The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

Was that love?

He was damn sure it was.

The sound of a horse’s hooves pounding the drive caught Oliver’s attention. A gentleman appeared at the entrance to the courtyard. His horse stopped and pawed the ground at the sight of the roaring flames.

The gentleman settled the horse, dismounted and rushed towards them. “I saw the flames and came immediately.” A weary sigh left his lips as he noted the extent of the devastation. “But I can see I’m too late.” He bent down at their side. “She’s alive I take it?”

Oliver nodded. “Yes, but she’s inhaled smoke, fallen somehow and hurt her head.”

“May I?” The gentleman captured Nicole’s hand and checked her pulse. “There’s a doctor in Abberton a few miles up the road. I’ll ride there at once.”

Another wave of relief rippled through him. “We’ll wait at The Talbot Inn. I don’t care what it takes, have him come at once.”

“Will you be all right at the Talbot? I have a large house and would offer you a place to stay. But I have young children who would be … be easily distressed at the sight of …” He struggled to finish the sentence.

“Thank you for the thought,” Oliver said, but he wanted to remain at Nicole’s side until she was fit and well again. A gentleman of such good breeding would not allow him to share a room with an unmarried woman. “The inn is clean and comfortable, and Mrs Parsons is a capable woman who’ll know what to do.”

The gentleman nodded. “Then I shall return with the doctor and meet you there.” He ran to his horse, mounted the beast with ease and galloped away down the drive.

Jackson appeared with the carriage. “I’ll climb down and help you lift Miss Asprey inside.”

“It’s fine, Jackson. I can manage.” Oliver lifted Nicole into his arms. Jackson jumped down anyway and opened the door. “Life is a fragile thing, is it not?” Oliver whispered almost to himself as he stared at the dirty smudges covering Nicole’s porcelain skin.

Good God, he couldn’t lose her. Not now.

“She’ll be right as rain in no time, my lord,” Jackson replied. “Mark my words. Miss Asprey is stronger than most.”

“That she is, Jackson.” Oliver sat on the floor between the seats and stared at Nicole lying stretched out at his side. “She’s a true original, that’s for sure.”

Jackson shut the door.

“Stay with me,” Oliver whispered as he stroked Nicole’s forehead.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she lifted a limp hand to his cheek. “Oliver.”

“Yes, my love.” Hope sprung to life in his chest.

“Th-thank you.” She closed her eyes. “You … you saved me.”

A hard lump formed in his throat and he captured her hand and kissed her palm. “No, my love. It is you who have saved me.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

They’d spent three days at The Talbot Inn. Nicole kept to her bed while Oliver sat on a chair by her side, clutching her hand, willing her to live. With each passing day she seemed more alert, spent less time sleeping. Though the whites of her eyes were no longer red, her voice was hoarse, and the persistent cough would take a week or more to clear.

Dr Taylor explained that the tiredness and confusion stemmed from inhaling smoke rather than from the bump on the head. Consequently, all the windows in the bedchamber were open. The more air circulating the room, the better.

Oliver had no idea what had happened to Lord Mosgrove. Both Jackson and Peters scoured the area, but there was no sign of the lord’s coachman or his carriage.

“If you feel well enough, perhaps we could venture downstairs,” Oliver said. Relief flooded his chest whenever she opened her eyes and smiled. “Mr Parsons has kept a private room free should you have the strength to move.”

Nicole touched his hand. “I would like that. You … you know how I hate being cooped up indoors.”

He offered a coy grin. “Though you did not object to being cooped up in a carriage.”

“That all depends on who I’m with.” She removed her hand and covered her mouth to cough. “And what we’re doing.”

Oliver stood, bent down and kissed her once on the mouth. “I’ll tell Parsons to get the room ready for dinner.”