The Mysterious Miss Flint (Lost Ladies of London 1)

Since leaving the manor, she’d hardly slept. It wasn’t long before her lids grew heavy and all thoughts turned to dreams of Oliver.

A loud bang woke her from her slumber. Nicole glanced at the candle. Judging by the length of the wax, she’d slept for thirty minutes, no more. Jackson must have finished in the stables.

She pulled the covers up to her shoulders, closed her eyes and turned to lie on her stomach. A board on the stairs creaked, as did one on the landing. Jackson was a strong, sturdy fellow with a heavy gait and would call out to warn her if he approached.

But then perhaps he didn’t want to wake her.

The hinge on the bedchamber door squeaked. Footsteps padded over to the bed. She could hear heavy breathing and found the courage to open her eyes and look.

Every drop of blood drained from her body and pooled in her legs.

“Good Lord. What … what are you doing here?” She couldn’t move. Struggled to speak.

“I am not a man who takes no for an answer.”

“Stay … stay away from me. Do you hear?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Only a single candle broke the darkness. It was enough to cast a sliver of doubt upon the credibility of the scene. Nicole prayed that her tired eyes were playing tricks, that the shadow of the man before her could not possibly be real.

“Fate has brought us together again, my dear.” Lord Mosgrove stepped closer to the bed. “How fortunate that Mrs Asprey suggested I watch Lord Stanton’s house. Else I might never have found you.”

Nicole shuffled around to face him. “You followed me to Morton Manor?” Upon noting Mosgrove’s lecherous gaze, she pulled the sheet up to her chin. Her hands were clammy, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

“How else were we to be together?” Mosgrove knelt down and captured her hand in his. “You’re so stubborn, my dear. And your ploy to make me jealous worked a treat.”

The man had lost his mind. If only the manor were still an asylum. The deranged lord would definitely be at home.

“Now, we must get this silliness over with and cement our alliance. Birds are kept in cages for a reason. And I cannot allow my little dove to fly off again.”

Fear had frozen all logical thought. But Jackson was somewhere on the premises. It was only a matter of time before he heard them and came running.

“But I should like to know how you plan to match Lord Stanton’s offer,” she said, desperate to keep him talking. “My brother is stubborn. Jeremy will hold out for the best price.”

Mosgrove snorted. “Stanton’s lost out this time. Just this afternoon, your brother accepted another ten thousand pounds to secure your hand.” His eyes widened. “I mean it is a little steep, a little more than I wanted to pay. But it’s worth it, just to know you’re safe and can finally feel settled.”

What the devil?

“How can you trust him? My brother has betrayed you once before.” Her gaze flicked to the bedchamber door but there was no sign of Oliver’s coachman.

After moistening his lips, the lord brought her hand to his mouth and slobbered all over her knuckles. Nicole’s stomach churned with disgust.

“But I am here, my dear. Your sister offered the perfect solution to the problem.”

“Rowena is not my sister.” She was a spoilt brat sent to make Nicole’s life a misery. “And I doubt if a woman of her mental capacity could unravel her own boot laces.”

Mosgrove chuckled. “Well, she has outdone herself this time. You see, once I break you in—”

“Break me in!” Nicole cried hoping to alert Jackson. “I’m not a wild horse in need of taming.”

“Of course not, my dear. Of course not. But the first time can be a tiresome experience.”

A rush of warmth thawed her frozen limbs at the memory of taking Oliver into her body. There’d been nothing tiresome about the act. But if Lord Mosgrove thought to lay a finger on her, she’d fight him with every breath.

Gathering her courage, she edged back the covers. “But it won’t be my first time,”

she said proudly. “I have already given that prize to Lord Stanton.”