The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

“Indeed.”

Oliver was quickly losing patience. For some reason, he wanted to punch the arrogant man on his beak of a nose. “Is this a game, Asprey? Am I to stand here all day, guessing your motive?”

Asprey looked down his nose and snorted. “You know damn well why I’m here, Stanton. Any brother with an ounce of respect does not play games when it comes to safeguarding his sister’s reputation.”

So, this was about Rose.

Was Asprey here to bribe him? Did Rose have another beau willing to offer marriage for a price?

“If I find out you’ve hurt her,” Oliver jabbed his finger at the pompous oaf, “I swear I will not be responsible for my actions.”

“Is that what she told you?” The smirk on Asprey’s face was almost Oliver’s undoing. “I would have thought a man of your licentious habits would respect a man’s need to put a woman in her place.”

For the third time in as many days, Oliver resorted to violence and punched Mr Asprey on the chin. “How can you call yourself a man when your strength comes from terrifying women?” It was a tap really. The only way to calm his raging blood.

Asprey stumbled back and gripped the chair for support, though managed to keep hold of his damn gloves.

“After the disgraceful way you’ve treated my sister, you have some nerve punching me,” Asprey bellowed. He cupped his jaw and regained his balance. “Indeed, I shall call you out if you do not give me the satisfaction I seek.”

“Satisfaction for what?” Oliver threw his hands in the air, taking some pleasure when the foppish gentleman flinched.

“For my sister.”

“For your sister?”

Oliver’s mind whirled as he tried to follow the conversation. But then raised voices in the hall caught his attention.

“Please, miss,” Bradbury said. “You can’t go in there. His lordship has a visitor.”

The door flew open, and Nicole rushed into the room.

The pretentious prig grinned. “Ah, Nicole. I assumed it was you I saw peering out of the window. How good of you to join us.”

Her frantic eyes settled on Mr Asprey. “I’ll not go with you. No matter what you say. You’ll have to drag me away kicking and screaming.” She turned to Oliver. One look at her fearful eyes and his heart wrenched. “Don’t let him take me.”

Mr Asprey slapped his gloves into his hand, the sound like the crack of a whip. “As your guardian, I’ll do as I damn well please.”

Chapter Twenty

Every muscle in Nicole’s body shook. She wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor, cover her ears and pretend her worst nightmare wasn’t about to unfold. She prayed she’d wake up in a cold sweat to find Oliver’s warm arms holding her tightly, keeping her safe.

“I … I’m not coming with you, Jeremy.”

She didn’t dare look at Oliver again. While anger flashed in his eyes, she saw disappointment, too. The truth was out. She was not Miss Flint, but an imposter.

Trust is important to both of us.

An icy chill raced across her shoulders at the memory of his words. But it was Jeremy’s smug grin that froze the blood in her veins. She knew of the cruel monster hiding behind the false facade.

“You cannot stay here a moment longer.” Jeremy’s soulless eyes bored into her. “Good God, the whole world thinks you’re his mistress.” He glanced at Oliver. “Numerous people saw you together at the theatre last night. Have you no shame?”

Nicole gathered every ounce of courage she possessed. Whatever she had to say, she’d best do so now. Oliver would protect her if Jeremy took umbrage and lashed out.

“Oh, I feel shame. I’m ashamed to say I am related to you.” She squared her shoulders. “And yes, I am mistress to Lord Stanton. He has provided me with a house and all the comforts I need. Lord Mosgrove won’t want me now.”

“Mistress! My sister is no man’s mistress.” Jeremy’s face ballooned beetroot red. “What? Are you trying to provoke me? Is that it?” He gripped his beige gloves, as if holding the neck of a dead chicken, and shook them. “This is what she does, my lord, taunts me with her disobedience and disrespect.”

Oliver simply stared.