The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

“Veal, then.” The servants would eat anything that couldn’t be saved.

Bradbury nodded but did not look appeased. He hovered at the door.

“What is it, Bradbury?”

“If you don’t mind me saying, my lord, you look tired. Shall I have the fire lit in your chamber?”

The man did fuss. But after years of being ruled with an iron hand, the servants were grateful to have a new master. Consequently, they went to no end of trouble to make sure Oliver had all the necessary comforts.

“It has been a busy few days,” Oliver replied.

Hectic, was a better word. And he was tired of thinking, tired of worrying. Once Miss Flint was safely back at Stanton House, where she belonged, he would rest easier in his bed.

But Nicole did not belong at Stanton House he reminded himself. Morton Manor was her home now. Yet the thought of her living anywhere else other than with him made him nauseous. The thought of her living in the draughty old house chilled him to the bones.

Oliver glanced up to find Bradbury rooted to the spot. It appeared his butler had no intention of leaving just yet.

“It might be nothing, my lord, but there was a carriage parked in the square this afternoon.” Bradbury looked at him apologetically. “I would not have mentioned it, but Thompson, the butler next door, seems to think the occupant was watching his master’s house.”

“And yet you think they might have been watching mine.” Oliver straightened. After all that had occurred, Bradbury was right to be suspicious. “Was it Asprey?” It stood to reason that Jeremy would continue to harass Nicole. But to return so soon spoke of desperation.

“Without a description of the vehicle, I cannot be certain. Thompson is somewhat of an unreliable witness.”

There’d been no one on the street when Oliver stood at the window and watched his carriage rumble out of the square. Indeed, he had stayed there transfixed for ten minutes or more.

Still, the sense that something was wrong pecked away like a crow on a carcass. From the moment Nicole had said goodbye at the door, he’d felt oddly unbalanced.

What if Asprey was waiting for an opportunity to abduct Nicole? What if Asprey had followed the carriage out to the manor?

Oliver jumped from the chair. It was best to be cautious. “Tell Owen to saddle my horse. I’m leaving for Morton Manor.”

Morton Manor was as dismal as Nicole remembered. The damp stone walls looked shiny in the moonlight, wet with the tears of all those who’d suffered within its confines. The landscape was just as bleak with ugly clumps of grass and prickly brambles spoiling the vista. Tree saplings sprouted but never grew more than an inch or two. Small inky pools of water sat stagnant on top of the sodden clay soil.

The place was as grim and gloomy as her heart.

Hours had passed since she’d left Stanton House. Oliver had taken her in his arms, refused to let her go.

“You can stay a little longer,” he’d said when she tried to leave. “It will be too late to begin your search tonight. Why not wait and leave in the morning?”

But what was the point of delaying the inevitable?

She’d cried all the way to The Talbot Inn. They were tears of sadness: for Rose, for the realisation that Jeremy despised her, that she had no family she could trust. There were tears of happiness, too. Some people spend a lifetime without experiencing true love, and she had been lucky enough to find it.

“I’ll take the horses around to the stables, Miss Asprey.” Jackson’s gruff voice broke her reverie. “And settle them in for the night.”

It was strange hearing her real name spoken aloud. For months, she’d been Miss Flint. Miss Asprey was a girl, frightened and alone, desperate to flee years of patriarchal dominance. Miss Flint was a woman who defied society’s rigid rules — a woman strong enough to take what she wanted and to hell with the consequences.

“Are you all right, Miss Asprey?” Jackson’s narrow gaze scanned her face. “If you’d rather spend the night at the Talbot—”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, Jackson. Take the horses to the stables. There’s a trough and a water pump. And you’ll find fresh hay bales in the barn. The lantern hangs on a hook near the stable doors.”

With the carriage lamps lit, Jackson would have no problem navigating the small space in the dark.

“His lordship said I’m to check the house before you enter. In case that rabble we threw out have found their way back here.”

Nicole straightened. So much had happened in the last few days, she’d forgotten all about Stokes and Mrs Gripes. “It hadn’t occurred to me that one of them might be hiding somewhere in the shadows.” Stokes had a vicious streak, though his need to seek employment would give him cause not to linger. “But see for yourself.” She gestured to the facade. “There’s not a light in any window. One would need a strong constitution to sit alone in that house come nightfall.”

“Are you sure, miss? It will take me but a few min