Mr Wild had the decency to hang his head. “It … it is, my lord. Miss Flint was never the heir to Morton Manor. The house is yours by rights as per your father’s instructions. I switched the documents before Mr Jameson returned from his visit to Lord Trench.” Wild cleared his throat. “The … the only stipulation made by your father was that you were not to be told of the manor until two months after his death.”
Oliver blinked away his surprise.
So the bastard had hidden Rose away in a property Oliver might never have found had it not been for Mr Andrews’ foresight. She would have been discovered eventually, locked in an old asylum owned by her brother.
And therein lay the cruellest trick of all.
A revenge carefully plotted and planned.
Guilt wrapped its thorny vines around his heart. It was not enough that he’d failed Rose. Now, Nicole’s dreams were in tatters, too.
“I’m sorry.” The whispered words fell from his lips as their eyes met. “It was wrong of me to give you false hope. Wrong of me to force you back to Town on an empty promi
se.”
Nicole smiled, albeit weakly. “You were not to know. Pay it no mind. I had nothing when I entered the manor.”
Oh, his father’s withered soul would be feeding, gorging on his son’s disappointment.
“God damn you, Wild. I’ll not forgive you for this.” Oliver’s hands throbbed. He wanted to punch the man until he begged for mercy, wanted to tear the office apart until left with a pile of rubble. He thrust the document at Mr Jameson. “You will act as my solicitor hence forth, though I’ll not deal with you if Mr Wild remains here.”
“I cannot work with a man guilty of such duplicity,” Jameson replied.
Relief flashed in Wild’s face. “You mean you’ll not call the constable?”
Oliver wanted to see the man in chains. Thirty years transportation. He wanted to don a black cap and bring down the hammer.
But what good would it do?
The case would become public knowledge. Everyone would come to know that the Earl of Stanton had locked his daughter away in an asylum. No one would look at Rose in the same way again. The rumours would crush her. Ruin every hope she had of salvaging something of her reputation.
If they ever found her.
“Should I lay eyes on you again, Wild, you will feel the full force of my wrath.” Oliver stared down his nose at the ghost-like figure. Had the crooks achieved their goal, Oliver might never have known about the manor, might never have met Nicole. The thought caused a deep ache in his chest. “I suggest you speak to Mr Burrows and Miss Murray. Should I find either of them in Town come dawn on Monday, I will not be held responsible for my actions. Now get the hell out!”
Shoulder’s hunched, Mr Wild scuttled from the room. They stood in silence until the bell jingled and the wooden door scraped the floor.
Oliver dragged his hand down his face. He’d left London to escape his father’s meddling. The old man might as well be breathing for he could still wreak havoc from beyond the grave.
“Do not torture yourself,” Nicole said. As always, she was able to read his thoughts. “There is nothing to be done. If you don’t mind, I would like to go home.” A faint groan left her lips, and she clutched her stomach. “Home,” she whispered almost to herself. “I meant I should like to return to Stanton House.”
The truth was, she had no home.
But what was he thinking? What use did he have for the manor? He was the blasted Earl of Stanton, not the runaway son.
With renewed optimism, Oliver straightened. “Jameson, I want you to do something for me.”
Mr Jameson inclined his head.
“I want to sell Morton Manor.” He turned and stared into Nicole’s dazzling green eyes. “I want to sell the house to Miss Flint for …” It would need to be a paltry sum.
“My lord,” she gasped. “As you know, I do not have the funds to make the purchase.”
If she were not so independent minded, he would gift her the property. But the last thing he wanted was her to feel beholden to him.
But what could she give him in exchange?
A rogue would ask for her virtue. One night with Nicole was a treasure worth more than a king’s ransom. Tempting as the thought was, she was a woman who deserved respect not to be treated like a common harlot.