The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

Heaving and pushing through the throng, she became aware of a hand on her back forcing her to the row of doors on her left.

Dizzy from a lack of air, she tried to focus on the figure whose bony fingers settled around her wrist.

“Come with me, my dear,” the gentleman said, his voice vaguely familiar. “My box is this way.”

Chapter Fourteen

Ice-cold fingers burned into Nicole’s skin. Any hope that the hand belonged to Oliver vanished. The earl’s warm hands caused ripples of pleasure to travel through her body, not stomach-churning disgust.

It took a moment for her vision to clear as the gentleman pulled her into the nearest box.

“Oliver,” she cried out over the thunderous rumble of conversation. There was little point calling ‘my lord’ in a building full of peers. “Oliver!”

The gentleman firmed his grip on her arm and kicked the door shut.

“It is you! My dear, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again.” Lord Mosgrove’s foul breath assaulted her nostrils. “Your brother feared you were dead, drowned. A stowaway on a ship bound for the Americas. Kidnapped by a band of brigands.”

Paralysed with fear, Nicole stared at his skeletal features. This man’s flowery protestations masked a lecherous oaf with a warped view of love and intimate relations.

He captured her hands between his sweaty palms. “I thought I had lost my innocent little dove.”

She was not so innocent anymore. She was one step away from giving her virtue to an earl she’d met but a few days ago.

“My little bird had flown away,” Lord Mosgrove continued. “And now she has come back to me. Wait until your brother hears the news. He’s been beside himself with worry.”

Nicole choked back a cry. Her heart pounded in her throat. She could barely breathe let alone speak. “Is … is my brother here this evening?”

Please, Lord, no!

“Not tonight.”

The sudden rush of relief was almost as debilitating.

“Your sister has a migraine,” Mosgrove continued. “I fear she has been ill for months. Not surprising really when one considers how long you’ve been gone. Oh, they’ve scoured the streets day and night. Even searched the Servants’ Registry Office of all places.”

How fortunate that the Earl of Stanton had posted his advertisement in the Times.

“But we will go to your brother this evening.” Lord Mosgrove brought her hands to his lips and brushed a slimy kiss on top. “We will tell him our good news.”

Lord Mosgrove was perhaps the most deluded man she’d ever had the bad fortune to meet.

“Our good news?”

“Indeed. You have found your way home, and now we can wed.” As though only seeing her for the first time, he cast a critical eye over the low neckline of her gown. “Where on earth did you find such a monstrosity?” He released her hands and tugged the ends of her silk wrap across her chest. “While I admire your effort to impress me, my dear. Such treasures are for one’s husband’s eyes only.”

Now her hands were free from his grasp, she stepped back. “But you are mistaken in your assumptions, my lord.” A little courage was all she needed. “I have not come home. Indeed, I have a home of my own.” Sometimes lies were necessary. “And I am betrothed to the Earl of Stanton.”

Oliver had openly declared it so. If he knew the truth about her brother and Lord Mosgrove, he would not object to her telling the tale.

Lord Mosgrove’s pale cheeks flamed red. “My dear, that is not possible. Not when you are betrothed to me. No. The excitement upon being reunited has left your mind muddled. But we’ll soon have you set to rights.”

Nicole straightened. “I am to marry Oliver Darby.”

“Like hell you are.” His benevolent mask fell away to reveal the controlling monster beneath. “You’re marrying me, and I’ll not hear another damn word about it. Now come here where I can keep an eye on you.”

Lord Mosgrove lunged forward.

Nicole darted out of the way, but he chased her around the small compartment. The lord grabbed her dress and yanked her back, tearing the material.