4. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
M illie’s hand trembled as she knocked on Eliza’s door, and then waited for it to be answered. She had considered not attending the dinner party since there was a chance Winston would be there, yet here she was.
While she welcomed the opportunity to spend more time with him, she feared that doing so in the presence of not only the members of the league, but especially Eliza, would allow more than Tibby to guess at her feelings. It was concerning enough that Tibby knew.
Her friend’s suggestion of making a bold move or two or even three had kept her awake the last few nights, but it just wasn’t logical. She wasn’t the type of lady who caused men, especially marquesses or rogues, to fall in love.
After being in Society for nearly seven years without such an occurrence, she knew better. In addition, Winston already knew her and had for well over a year. His only interest in her was because of her friendship with his sister and the wager.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have come. It was unlikely she’d be able to hide her feelings and would only embarrass herself. She turned to go as panic took hold. A message explaining her absence would have to suffice. She would explain that a sudden illness claimed her.
She had one foot on the front step, prepared to bolt, when movement from the corner of her eye gave her pause.
“Miss Davies, just the person I hoped to see.”
Winston’s tall form strolled toward her along the pavement. It never failed to fascinate her that he rarely seemed to be in a hurry yet managed to move faster than most.
“Lord Linford.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door, which was now being held open by the butler, and felt well and truly trapped.
Winston frowned, looking between her and down the street where her carriage was moving out of sight. “I’m afraid your carriage has departed. Did you forget something?”
“Oh. No.” Millie forced a smile and waved a hand. “It is of no consequence. I hope the evening finds you well?”
Only then did his earlier words sink in—that he hoped to see her.
Be still her heart.
“It does. And you?” He reached the step she was on and offered his arm, which she took gingerly, still wishing she could flee. The evening threatened to be a disaster.
“Well, thank you.”
He watched her, then leaned close, the scent of bergamot sweeping her senses in an instant. Why did he have to wear her favorite cologne? “I won’t bite, you know.” The tickle of his breath on the nape of her neck sent shivers along her skin.
She met his gaze, taken aback to see how close he was. Confusion took hold until she realized how cautiously she’d taken his arm. “I beg to differ, my lord. I have heard stories of your exploits.”
Her breath caught at her own boldness, and she jerked her attention from Winston’s to see the butler still holding the door, waiting patiently with amusement glittering in his eyes.
Winston laughed as he guided her inside. “You mustn’t believe everything you hear. Isn’t that right, Ridley?” he asked the butler as he handed him his hat and gloves, and then turned to assist Millie with her cloak.
“Indeed, my lord.” Ridley must be accustomed to Winston’s humor as he didn’t bat an eye at the question.
“Cheeky man,” Winston teased, a grin on his face. “Is everyone in the drawing room?”
At the butler’s nod, Winston placed a hand on the low of Millie’s back and guided her toward the stairs. “We will see ourselves up.”
“As you wish, my lord.” The butler disappeared down the corridor.
Tingles ran along Millie’s skin at the warmth of Winston’s touch as they started up the stairs, the sound of voices and laughter drifting down to them.
“I truly am pleased to see you.” The seriousness in Winston’s tone had her studying him, hoping her expression appeared composed, though she was feeling anything but.
“Oh? Why might that be?” she managed, holding her skirts to climb the stairs and hoping she didn’t trip considering how unsettled she felt.
His hand pressed more firmly against her waist as if he wanted her to stop, and she halted in response. “I wanted to thank you for assisting me with the gift for my aunt. She was delighted by it.”
“I am happy to hear that.” Pleasure washed through her.
He leaned close again and his tantalizing scent threatened to buckle her knees. “I must confess that I took full credit for it.”
“As you should.” She clenched her fists in the folds of her gown, reminding herself to keep her wits about her.
“You are too kind, but I truly appreciate it. As I mentioned before, I am in your debt.”
She lifted a brow. “I believe your exact words were that you were forever in my debt.” She didn’t know where the sudden ability to flirt had come from, but she reveled in it.
Surprise brightened Winston’s green eyes. “I do believe you are right. I look forward to learning how I might repay the favor.” His gaze dropped to her lips.
A bubbling sensation erupted in her middle as if she’d sipped champagne. Was he suggesting a kiss? No, that couldn’t be.
Yet, what if...
This could be her chance. She would know one way or the other if there was any point trying future bold moves if she took this one leap. She could go forward with the other option for her future and put this—whatever it was—to rest. If her friends noticed her interest in Winston, she could state that she’d tried a bold move without success.
And she wouldn’t have to live with regret.
“Hmm.” She tilted her head to the side as if giving the matter her full consideration. “There might be...something I would like.” Nerves caused her heart to race as she mimicked him and looked at his mouth, trying to imagine the feel of it pressed against hers.
Longing, sharp and bright, speared through her, and it was all she could do to keep her balance on the stairs.
“Oh?” His voice was little more than a whisper and caused her to shiver. “What might that be?” His eyes darkened as his gaze raked over her face.
She licked her lips, uncertain if she could bring herself to say it. When his brow lifted at the movement, a burst of courage took hold.
“A kiss.” Dear heavens. Had he even heard her? She should’ve said it louder, but she wasn’t that brave.
When he showed no reaction, her heart sank. Clearly her attempt had failed. Either he hadn’t heard her or wasn’t interested. What had she been thinking to attempt a seduction of sorts? She had misread him, seeing interest only because that was her deepest desire.
Heat stung her cheeks, and she tore her gaze away to gather the shreds of her dignity. How on earth was she going to make it through dinner after this?
She glanced at the top of the stairs, which appeared a great distance away based on her trembling legs. “W-we should—”
“When?” He interrupted before she could finish the thought.
“There you are.” Eliza smiled at them from the landing. “I was wondering what was keeping you both, and here you are.”
Fearing Eliza guessed the situation, Millie ignored him and hurried up the stairs to greet her friend. “Yes, here we are. I hope we’re not late.”
“Not at all.” Eliza hugged her, her welcoming smile suggesting she didn’t see anything amiss. “I’m so pleased you could come.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Winston took the stairs two at a time to join them.
Millie kept her focus on Eliza, certain that if she looked at him, her embarrassment would only increase. “What a lovely gown.”
Eliza glanced down to smooth the green silk embroidered with tiny white flowers. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Yes, lovely,” Winston agreed.
Millie risked a glance at him to see him staring at her.
As if he referred to her rather than his sister’s gown.
What was wrong with her this evening? She was imagining things that were impossible. Bookish Millie was not capable of seducing rogues.
“Come and greet everyone.” Eliza led the way into the drawing room where a dozen others conversed in small groups.
Millie hadn’t taken more than a few steps when she felt the brief warmth of a hand along her back before it was gone. Then Winston walked by her as he exchanged a greeting with his brother-in-law and longtime friend, the Duke of Trentworth.
“Millie, so good to see you,” Harriet said as she offered a welcoming smile.
Millie attempted to gather her thoughts and emotions and find some semblance of control. A glass of sherry was pressed into her hand as she greeted friends, and she gratefully took a sip.
Only then did Winston’s reply sink in... when .
She touched a finger to her pounding heart as her gaze sought him across the room to find him watching her.
Then he sent her a questioning look as if to repeat the one he’d asked that she had yet to answer. ‘When’ shifted to ‘how soon.’
It took effort for Winston to keep his focus on the conversation going on around him rather than the lady across the room.
The moment of seduction on the stairs with Millicent couldn’t have gone any better. Well, that was unless he could’ve already sampled those lush lips.
He tamped down the urge to stride toward her and guide her to a secluded corner of the house to answer the question of how she’d taste. Perhaps then he could think. Another sip of his drink helped, the whiskey burning a path to his stomach. Yet a moment later, he found himself watching Millicent again.
Her smile as she spoke with the other guests caused an odd sensation in his chest. Her crimson-colored gown brought out the chestnut highlights in her hair. It was swept up in a loose swirl with a single strand left to frame one cheek. She gestured with her free hand, those long fingers fluttering through the air, making him wonder how they’d feel along his skin. He blinked at the thought, shrugging his shoulders to dismiss the tension suddenly gripping him.
With a scowl, he turned his back to Millicent, reminding himself to take care. He couldn’t show too much interest, or she might think he had more than a kiss in mind. That would never do. He didn’t want to hurt her.
In fact, he would make it clear he had no desire to marry her or anyone for at least the next five or ten years, and he would do so before they shared a kiss. That way, there would be no misunderstanding later. He could easily imagine his sister’s wrath, not to mention Trentworth’s, if he were to hurt Millicent.
He gave a single nod at the wisdom of his plan. He would advise her of the parameters of the kiss at the first opportunity. Then she could decide if she wanted to proceed.
Or not. That possibility had him scowling again.
“Linford, is the drink not to your liking?” Viscount Garland asked then held up his own. “I thought it a very good whiskey.”
“It is, indeed.” Winston forced a smile. “Thinking of something else.”
“I see. Such is the life of a bachelor, eh? One’s thoughts are often in a tangle.”
Winston frowned. “I don’t know that I would agree.” He would defend his single life to the end.
“Oh?” Garland looked surprised and doubtful but clinked his glass against Winston’s. “Good for you. I can’t say I miss those days.” His expression softened as his gaze sought his wife. “Marrying Harriet was the best thing I’ve ever done. It took some time to convince her, but I suppose I enjoyed that journey as well.”
Winston smothered a sigh. Far too many of his friends had married in the past year or two. He wished them happiness, but he missed seeing them at the club. Most of his acquaintances who remained unmarried consisted of jaded rogues who tended to drink, gamble, and chase light-skirts. An evening with them left him with little more than a headache and empty pockets, feeling disgusted with himself.
There were times he knew there had to be more to life than the way he currently spent his days. But he need only remember his parents’ many arguments to decide against making any changes until necessary. With luck, that would be years from now.
Of course, not all married couples disagreed about everything, and certainly not with the passion his parents had, but he knew his faults and expected the worst.
“Good to hear that married life agrees with you,” Winston said, taking another sip before he said something contrary.
“It does.” Garland leaned close. “Can’t wait to see the day when you fall under a lady’s spell, Linford. I will do my best to restrain from saying ‘I told you so.’” The viscount laughed at his own jest.
Winstead did not.
Oddly enough, an ache settled in his chest, though he couldn’t say why. It couldn’t be envy or longing. That was ridiculous even to think. There might be a few advantages for married men but for him, those did not outweigh the disadvantages.
He moved around the room to speak with the other guests, surprised when the ache didn’t go away. Millicent’s presence was impossible to ignore, but he was proud of himself for keeping his distance. The last thing he wanted was for his sister to see something brewing between him and Millicent.
Soon dinner was announced. To both his delight and dismay—though he would’ve insisted those were two very different feelings—he was partnered with Millicent.
He offered his arm to escort her into the dining room, doing his best to keep his usual friendly banter with both her and those near them.
Millicent watched him so closely that he wondered if he was trying too hard to act normal. It was just that her nearness set him off balance. Women rarely had that effect on him. Clearly he needed to get the kiss over and done so he could put these strange feelings aside.
After he explained the rules to her, he reminded himself.
“How delicious this is,” Millicent said after they’d all enjoyed the first few spoonfuls of the creamy asparagus soup.
Several of the other guests quickly agreed.
“A new recipe the cook suggested we should try,” Eliza advised.
Restlessness at the inane topic came over Winston and he shifted in his chair, only to realize doing so allowed him to press his leg against Millicent’s.
He kept the connection for a long moment then glanced over to see her staring at her soup, spoon frozen in mid-air, and a lovely blush rising in her cheeks. More than satisfaction filled him at the sight—desire heated him as well.
In truth, he was taken aback that such a small touch could stir him so. Perhaps it had been longer since he’d been with a woman than he realized.
It couldn’t have anything to do with the lady at his side. He stole another glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was pretty in a reserved manner, but he liked the way she looked, so fresh and natural. There were no artifices applied in an attempt to enhance her looks. Just her.
So what if she liked to read? In all honesty, he didn’t understand why that bothered some men. Why wouldn’t he prefer to converse with an intelligent lady with opinions of her own? His sister certainly had them, and he liked talking with her. There was nothing worse than speaking with a debutante only capable of saying what her mother had told her to say.
Millicent turned to speak with Lady Garland, another member of the literary league and one of his sister’s friends. That provided him the opportunity to admire the line of her neck, though dwelling on it overlong proved to be a mistake when he could only think of pressing kisses along the length of it.
He dragged his attention away, only to find it quickly returning to the alabaster skin of her cheek. From there, his focus shifted lower, to her modest decolletage that hinted at the swell of her breasts. Those might also be modest, but he wouldn’t complain. Not when the plumpness of them rose and fell with every breath she took.
How was a man supposed to think of anything when tempted by such an inviting sight?
Winston clenched his jaw, realizing his thoughts were getting away from him. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to think of what he was supposed to speak with her about.
Oh, yes. The parameters of the kiss.
Why was that important again? Damn. The evening was going to be a long one at this rate.