A Secret Seduction (The Mayfair Literary League #8)

3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“ I -I don’t know what you mean,” Millie said, continuing into the shop with the hope Tibby would be distracted by the beautiful fabrics and gowns on display and forget her question.

Millie hated to think her regard for Winston was obvious. Heaven forbid, as that would mean Winston had noticed it as well. Perhaps Eliza, too.

Either would be mortifying, and both...

She nearly shuddered, finding it too terrible to contemplate.

“I think you do,” Tibby whispered as she tugged on her arm, turning Millie to face her. “Tell me everything.” The avid interest in her brown eyes made breathing difficult as panic took hold.

Millie suspected Phoebe and Tibby might have noticed her interest in Winston last summer, but neither had mentioned him by name. Surely that meant she could continue to pretend she wasn’t infatuated with him.

“There is nothing to tell.” Millie shifted her attention to a swath of fabric draped over a nearby wickerwork mannequin. “Oh, isn’t this pretty?” She reached out a gloved hand to touch it only to have Tibby grab her wrist, demanding her attention.

“Don’t evade the subject.” Tibby tightened her grip, her excitement palpable. “I ask again, what is going on between the two of you?”

“Nothing.” At her friend’s skeptical look, Millie shook her head. “Truly.”

Tibby’s eyes narrowed in disbelief as she studied her. “Hmm. You seem rather familiar with one another.”

“It was that ridiculous wallflower wager last summer.” She pulled her hand free to reach for the silk, feigning nonchalance as best she could. “You remember. A group of rogues, including Linford, made a wager to see who could be the first to dance with twelve wallflowers at twelve different balls. We had several conversations during that whole affair.”

“I thought you put an end to the wager.”

“Not precisely. Viscount Winstead won, but only because the wallflowers all agreed to support him when they realized he and my cousin, Prudence, were truly in love. It was a sweet ending to the whole affair.”

Millie moved farther into the shop, more than ready to change the subject before she confessed everything. She paused before a striped muslin in shades of blue. “Isn’t this nice? Blue becomes you.”

“Why do I feel as if you’re not telling me the whole of the story?” Tibby asked as she joined her, ignoring the bolt of fabric Millie studied.

The temptation to spill the truth washed through her. No one other than Prue knew how she felt. But what purpose would telling Tibby serve?

There had been two or three occasions last summer when she thought Winston might return her regard—before she knew of the wager and realized that was the only reason he had paid her any attention. She had merely been an easy target since he was already acquainted with her. No formal introduction was required to dance with her, and she was most definitely considered a wallflower.

Now she knew better. She was only a friend of his sister’s just like the rest of the league members. Of course he was friendly towards her, just as he was with Tibby. There had been no difference in the way he’d treated her. Nothing special, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

“Linford is pleasant to everyone.” There. Hopefully that satisfied Tibby.

“Yes, he is.”

Disappointment washed through her at Tibby’s easy agreement, making her realize how much she hoped her friend had seen something more in the way Winston looked at her. How silly.

“However,” Tibby began, sending Millie’s heart thundering, “his expression when he looked at you...” Tibby’s words drifted away as she stared across the shop.

What ? Millie wanted to demand. What had she seen?

“It spoke of more,” Tibby finished softly as she looked at Millie once again.

“M-more?” Millie cleared her throat, hoping the squeak in her voice didn’t reveal anything.

“Absolutely. You see, I have witnessed many of our league members fall in love and have become quite adept at recognizing the signs.”

Millie scoffed, hope dashed. Nothing her friend could say would convince her that Winston was in love with her. She might as well tell her the sun rose at night.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” a shop assistant greeted them. “How may we be of assistance?”

Millie breathed a sigh of relief that the subject of Winston was over. Though tempted to confess her feelings, she also knew Tibby would encourage her, and Millie wasn’t prepared to act, nor did she think she ever would be, when it was pointless.

Tibby explained what she needed, and after narrowing down the styles and fabric with Millie’s assistance, she made her selections. The dressmaker had Tibby’s measurements on file, although the waist would be left loose to allow room for the baby, so their mission was soon complete.

Millie held the door for her friend, and they stepped into the afternoon sunlight. “I think you chose wisely,” Millie told her. “Those colors look wonderful on you.”

“Thank you.” Tibby grinned. “I do appreciate your help.” She looped her arm through Millie’s as they walked. “However, I would like to finish our earlier conversation.”

“Oh?” Millie hoped it wasn’t the one she thought it was.

“I do not mean to overstep the bounds of our friendship,” Tibby said as they weaved around other shoppers, “but I urge you to act.”

“I hardly think—” Millie began, nerves taking a firm hold when she realized what Tibby intended to say.

“Don’t think,” Tibby interrupted. “Act. A bold move with Linford is exactly what you need.”

“Tibby, I don’t know what you think you saw, but I know for certain that Winst—rather, Linford—doesn’t see me as anything more than a wallflower who happens to be friends with his sister.”

“Then we shall ask Eliza for advice.”

“No!” Millie drew to a halt, horrified by the idea.

Tibby smiled knowingly. “So you admit that you care for him.”

Frustrated by Tibby’s persistence, Millie could only groan. “I will admit that, yes. But I will not ask Eliza or even mention my unfortunate secret tendre for her brother. It’s an embarrassment that I hope will soon pass.”

Tibby murmured an apology to an older lady who frowned at the way they blocked the pavement. After the woman moved around them, Tibby took Millie’s elbow and started walking again.

“Millie, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I can easily see the two of you together. Your regard for him is sweet and something could come of it.”

Irritation at the situation bubbled forth. She simply had to make Tibby understand. “It could never be. We could never be. I am not...enough for the likes of a marquess, especially one like Linford.”

“How so?”

Exasperated by the conversation and her friend’s refusal to see the truth, Millie halted to gesture to herself from head to toe. “Nothing about me warrants a match with him. No title, a modest dowry, an ordinary appearance, and a dull personality.” She shook her head, the list disheartening no matter how many times she’d wished it otherwise. “Linford needs a wife who will capture his heart and his mind. One who will quiet his restlessness and be a partner in his life to help him see his worth. He has such potential if he would only believe in it.”

Tibby’s brown eyes widened, and her mouth gaped. “Millie. Don’t you see? That you recognize those qualities makes you perfect for him.”

“Hardly.” Millie shook her head to dismiss the thought as she continued forward, forcing Tibby to join her. “Any person with eyes in their head could see it.”

“No, they couldn’t.”

Millie frowned at her friend. “How have I never realized how stubborn you were before now?”

Tibby laughed. “Don’t mention that to Michael as he would be happy to tell you of my tendency toward it. However, I am only stubborn when it is important.”

“This is not that.” To Millie’s relief, they had nearly reached Tibby’s carriage.

“It is. We are speaking of your future, Millie. That is worth fighting for. What if he does find you appealing? What if that glint in his eyes is more than you think? Isn’t it worth exploring?”

Millie pressed her lips tight and shook her head. “No. I will only make a fool of myself and end up hurt.”

“Or...” Tibby lifted a brow as if expecting her to finish the thought.

“There is no ‘or’.”

“Now who is being stubborn?” Tibby huffed out a breath. “I am asking you to think about a bold move. Maybe more than one. Possibly three. Linford is a bit stubborn himself and might need to be hit over the head to see what’s standing before him.”

As if the idea of one bold move wasn’t bad enough, three sounded five times worse. Millie’s stomach hurt at the thought. Imagine how she might feel if she attempted to go through with even one.

“Regret is a lonely companion, Millie.” Tibby paused as the footman held the door for her. “Are you prepared to live with it?”

Tibby leaned close to press her cheek to Millie’s, her expression full of sympathy as she drew back. “Think on it.”

Millie remained standing on the pavement for a long moment before turning toward her own carriage where her maid waited, wondering what on earth she was going to do.

“Winston.” Aunt Frieda looked up from the pretty blue bonbon dish with fluted edges, eyes wide as she stared at him in disbelief.

His smile faltered, dismayed to think he’d failed yet again. Why was it that even when he actually tried, he couldn’t succeed with a small task like purchasing a proper gift?

His aunt picked up the glass bowl and held it in the sunlight streaming in through her drawing room window, turning it this way and that. “I adore it!”

“I’m sorry, I thought—” He broke off as he replayed what she’d just said. “Oh. Splendid.” Relief washed through him. “I thought you might.”

“And chocolates?” She smiled like a child on Christmas morning. “So thoughtful of you, dear.”

Dear ? Never had she used a term of endearment with him. He studied her to make sure this wasn’t some sort of jest. Her round face had a smile of all things, the curl of her lips so rare as to look odd.

“Perhaps you are not as much like your father as I thought,” Aunt Frieda murmured as she continued to admire the dish.

“It is lovely.” Eliza drew nearer for a better look, glancing at Winston with the same astonishment as Aunt Frieda. “Well done, Winston.”

“Thank you.” The swell of pride that rose within him was as unfamiliar as their approval. He shifted in his seat, uncertain what to think. “I’m pleased you like it.”

Millicent . She was the one he had to thank. The hum of anticipation at the thought of showing his appreciation had him narrowing his eyes. What was wrong with him of late? He couldn’t seem to stop thinking of her.

Several days had passed since the encounter with her and Lady Shaw on Regent Street, but he had yet to stop reliving those few minutes.

If he were honest, he had selected the bonbon dish because it matched the exact shade of Millicent’s eyes, a deep cobalt, both rich and elegant. Picking that particular dish seemed like the least he could do since she was the one who’d suggested the gift idea.

Millicent was pretty with dark hair that held chestnut tones only visible in the right light. Those eyes shone with intelligence but shuttered when shyness came over her. And he couldn’t resist saying something to bring a blush to her heart-shaped face with its alabaster skin. The more he looked at her, the more he found to admire.

The way she’d stood up for herself and her friends during the ridiculous wager with the wallflowers last summer had impressed him. Still, he hadn’t appreciated her refusal to dance with him at the end of it. He had truly wanted to, something that didn’t happen often. Perhaps now that memories of the wager had faded, he would try again.

Of course, she wasn’t the type for a casual dalliance. She had marriage written all over her. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little taste if she were so inclined. A kiss or two, nothing more. There had been several occasions when he’d seen a flicker of interest shining in her bright blue eyes.

He was confident enough in his own appeal to recognize the look. Whether she was willing to act on it remained to be seen. If the opportunity arose, he would suggest a kiss as payment for helping him and convince her it was her idea. That would surely make her more likely to agree.

The thought had him smiling.

“Winston?”

He looked up to see Eliza watching him with a puzzled expression. Clearly his thoughts had carried him away, and he’d lost track of the conversation. “Yes?”

“I asked what your plans were for the coming week,” his sister said.

“Oh. Well, I can’t say that I know as of yet. Why?”

“Philip and I are hosting a dinner party on Friday evening. Just a small gathering with friends. Would you be able to join us?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask who else would be in attendance, but all he really wanted to know was whether Millicent would be. He normally preferred to spend evenings at his club. There was always a card or dice game to amuse himself with or the companionship of friends. But now that Trentworth was married to his sister, the club held less appeal. He had other friends, of course, but it wasn’t the same.

Or perhaps he wasn’t the same.

He pushed aside the worrisome thought to study Eliza’s face. Her hopeful expression, rather than a polite one, suggested she truly wanted him to come. The notion warmed him.

Why had he thought her too much trouble in his younger days and sent her away? The last year or two since her return had been nice. Then again, they had both matured since the days after their parents had been killed over eight years ago.

“I suppose. I assume a refusal would make your numbers uneven.” He nearly grimaced as the ungrateful reply slipped out.

Eliza’s eyes flashed with a mix of hurt and irritation. He couldn’t blame her. Each time they seemed to grow a little closer, he felt compelled to push back.

Now wasn’t the time to analyze the reason for it. Perhaps he hadn’t changed as much as he thought.

He pushed to his feet, more than ready to take his leave before he said something else to hurt Eliza, or his aunt took issue with him.

“I must be going.” He patted his sister’s shoulder awkwardly, wishing he were a better brother. A better man.

But he wasn’t.

Nor was he a good nephew, despite currently being in his aunt’s good graces.

“Thank you again, Winston.” Aunt Frieda rose, a hint of a smile still on her face.

The answering warmth in his chest had him pressing a hand to the unfamiliar sensation.

“What is it?” Eliza asked with a concerned look.

That she not only noticed something was wrong but inquired, considering how displeased she was with him at the moment, only warmed him more.

He needed to leave. Quickly. Before he acted completely out of character and hugged them both.

“Nothing at all. Send me the details about dinner. I look forward to it.” He turned to his aunt and kissed her offered cheek. “The happiest of birthdays to you. I’m pleased you like the gift.”

“It’s delightful. Well done.”

As he walked out of his aunt’s townhouse, it occurred to him that his presence at his sister’s dinner party was probably required because Aunt Frieda was going and required a partner.

Blast it.

But there was a chance Millicent would be there, so he would go.