A Secret Seduction (The Mayfair Literary League #8)

8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

W inston shrugged away a twinge of guilt as he entered the Stannus ballroom through a patio door, avoiding the queue of guests waiting to greet the hosts. He hoped Lord Stannus wouldn’t mind that he’d eschewed the tedious formality.

He drummed his fingers against his trouser leg as he surveyed the ballroom, impatient to find Millicent. Two days had passed since their passionate encounter. Unfortunately, the kiss only made him long for more. Disappointing when he had hoped it would end his interest. Not even her reminder that she wanted marriage had removed it.

Why hadn’t he realized how desirable she was until these last few months? It was as if she had bloomed before his eyes, or perhaps she’d always been this desirable, and it had taken him this long to notice.

He’d thought her interesting last summer, the warmth and intelligence in her eyes catching his notice. And the more he came to know her, the more he realized how intriguing and appealing she was beyond her quiet beauty.

But now...

Well, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since that heated kiss. She’d followed him into his dreams, disturbing his sleep as erotic images of her joining him in bed filled his thoughts.

Whatever this was between them wasn’t finished as far as he was concerned. He hoped she agreed, despite the differences in their plans for the immediate future.

Of course, he had known she wanted marriage. That came as no surprise. Yet he couldn’t deny disappointment at her confirmation of her intent and continued to hold hope she might consider a little...dalliance before she took a husband.

As he’d determined before, they would have to be careful. Very careful. He had no intention of ruining her. But the interlude at the garden party had proved that passion burned between them. He wasn’t above trying to lure her into another taste or two. More if she was agreeable. Never mind that his thoughts proved he didn’t deserve her.

Surely another kiss would ease his desire and allow him to step away when his interest faded, and she chose someone to marry. He only hoped it wouldn’t be Dunthorpe. The viscount didn’t deserve her when he clearly couldn’t see the prize before him.

The ballroom teemed with ladies in elegant gowns and men in formal evening attire, making it a challenge to find her. The high-ceilinged room boasted marble columns, touches of black and gold, and a compass pattern chalked on the dance floor, visible only because dancing had yet to begin.

He moved through the throng, nodding at a few acquaintances, pleased when he came upon Silas Hayward, Viscount Winstead.

“When did you arrive?” his friend asked as he glanced toward the ballroom door. “I didn’t see you enter.”

Winston had known him for years, and they’d spent too many late nights gambling and drinking together than he cared to admit.

“I came in through the patio door. Much easier than dealing with the reception line.” Especially since he was only there to see Millicent.

“I see.” The viscount continued to watch the door, stirring Winston’s curiosity.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked.

“Prue. I thought she would be here by now.”

“Of course.” Lady Prudence Davies, his betrothed, happened to be Millicent’s cousin, another lady involved in the wallflower wager. “Are you eager to tie the knot?” The thought of doing so was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.

“Very much. The day can’t come soon enough.” The besotted expression on his friend’s face had Winson shaking his head.

“Sure. Sure.” What was becoming of the men of Mayfair? First Trentworth and now Winstead. Neither had seemed any more anxious to marry than Winston was, yet now they were both thoroughly smitten.

“I have to say I am surprised to see you here this evening, Linford. I know you’re not fond of balls.” The viscount studied him more closely. “There’s not a new wager, is there?”

“No.” Winston gave a mock shudder. “I do not intend to participate in another of those.”

“Pleased to hear it.” The viscount shook his head, a lock of dark hair falling on his forehead before he impatiently pushed it back. “I am still amazed that Prue forgave me for the whole affair.”

“It wasn’t our best moment,” Winston agreed, then sent him a pointed look. “Some of us came out better than others.”

His friend grinned. “Indeed. I’m proud to say it was me.” Before Winston could say anything more, the viscount tipped his head toward the door. “There she is.”

Without a backward glance, he was gone.

Winston followed his path toward the door where the viscount’s betrothed, a quietly attractive lady with pale hair and poise, stood looking around the ballroom. To his delight, Millicent accompanied her. Perfect.

Unfortunately, he feared he might have to ask for a dance in order to speak with her. Whether she would agree remained to be seen after his bluntness the other day. She might not want anything to do with him.

He slowly eased closer, biding his time by speaking to other acquaintances. How amusing to note so many newly married gentlemen in attendance. He couldn’t imagine doing so once he was wed.

Or could he?

Why not attend a ball where one had not only a partner with whom to dance but friends to speak with? That wouldn’t be so terrible. All the pressure and expectations of the debutantes and their matchmaking mamas would be gone.

A ballroom wasn’t so different than his club, he realized. Many of his friends were there. Drinks were available, though only champagne. A card game was possible if he wanted one. The pang of longing that tightened his chest caught him by surprise.

Parts of married life sounded appealing. There would be fewer lonely nights in search of amusement. Yet the moment the idea entered his thoughts, echoes of his parents’ arguments rang through his mind and were enough to have him shaking his head. Their heated disagreements had ranged from who had been seen speaking with whom to outlandish purchases to differences of opinions on holiday plans. They had fought far more often than they’d agreed.

Winston sighed, wishing he was different than his father. Wishing that the future as a married man—because he would be one eventually—looked bright. But he knew better. Sooner or later, he would irritate his wife to the point where she wouldn’t want anything to do with him and would be eager to make that clear.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw as a chill swept over him. Arguments, especially public ones like his parents had engaged in, were enough to halt any misplaced wish. He couldn’t allow his temporary attraction to Millicent blind him to the reality he faced, nor did he wish to bring her down with him.

His gaze sought her of its own accord...and he sighed with longing. She looked especially lovely this evening in a lilac silk gown that was simple yet elegant on her slender frame. With a small bustle and ecru trim around the neckline, she looked beautiful. Her hair was swept up into a loose pile on her head with a few tendrils left to frame her face. How surprising that a queue of gentlemen wanting to dance with her hadn’t already formed.

Why was it that so few saw what he did? How poised and refined she was. That her reserve wasn’t necessarily shyness, but rather a watchful intelligence that intrigued him. She wasn’t vivacious or overeager to insert herself into conversations but tended to observe. He wasn’t so different and admired that trait in her as well.

In fact, there wasn’t much he didn’t like about her. The spark between them was an unexpected benefit. That was, it would be if they explored it a little further. But he knew from experience that sparks were quick to fade. They flashed hot and fizzled out soon after. Better that they enjoyed the mutual interest while they could before they both moved on.

He slowly eased toward her, not wanting to wait too long or someone might ask her to dance. Then he’d be left waiting for her return, which might draw notice. He was determined to do everything in his power to protect her reputation.

Well...almost. Avoiding her wasn’t possible at the moment.

To his delight, Viscount Winstead and Lady Prudence made their way to the dance floor, leaving Millicent standing more-or-less alone, though her mother was a short distance away. This was his chance.

He sped his pace and started to walk past her, only to halt as if he’d just caught sight of her—as if he hadn’t been waiting and watching her. Hopefully, his efforts wouldn’t rouse her mother’s suspicions. “Oh.” He looked at Millicent as if surprised to see her. “How nice to see you this evening, Miss Davies.”

Based on her creased brow and puzzled look, his act didn’t fool her. Damn if he didn’t like that. “Good evening, my lord.” She curtsied. “I hope it finds you well.”

He drew closer to bow. “It does now,” he whispered so only she could hear.

A blush rose in her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze, looking to first one side and then the other as if to make certain no one else heard. “I thought our...acquaintance was at an impasse.”

“Not as far as I am concerned. What of you?” He held his breath, hoping she agreed.

She stilled. “I suppose it depends on what you have in mind.” The wary look in her eyes tugged at him, tightening his chest.

He turned aside, drawing a deep breath to clear the uncomfortable feeling, and watched the couples spinning on the dance floor. “Another kiss to begin with...”

“Oh?” Was she as breathless as she sounded?

“Who knows where that might lead?” he added, risking another glance at her, allowing a hint of his desire to show.

“Millie?” The feminine tone had him turning to see a younger lady approach. “Can we get a glass of lemonade?”

Winston frowned at the interruption. How could the lady not see they were conversing?

“I-I suppose.” Millicent blinked as if to clear her mind. He would’ve rather she didn’t have time to consider his remark, fearing she’d decide against continuing their liaison. “I am chaperoning my cousin, Miss Catherine Harris, this evening,” she explained before formally introducing them.

Chaperoning? He glared at the young lady as she curtsied. Did Millicent’s family think her a spinster? That rather than enjoy herself at a ball, she should make certain her younger relatives behaved?

Preposterous . With effort, he held back his opinion.

He studied Miss Harris more closely. She was pretty enough with blonde hair and blue eyes. However, those eyes shined with a defiance that suggested she would push the bounds of good behavior whenever possible. If he were to guess, Millicent had her work cut out for her.

“I see. Well then, may I have the honor of a dance?” he asked Millicent. That seemed to be the only way they could continue their conversation.

A flash of disappointment tightened her lips. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t leave Catherine alone.”

Winston turned to where Millicent’s mother visited with friends a few feet away. Why couldn’t Mrs. Davies watch over the girl? He looked back only to catch sight of Dunthorpe approaching and nearly smothered a groan. The situation was growing more complicated by the minute.

But perhaps there was a way to use the man’s arrival to his advantage.

“Dunthorpe,” Winston greeted him before he could utter a word. “You’re just in time. Have you met Miss Catherine Harris?”

The viscount’s eyes went wide with surprise as he glanced between the three of them before holding on Miss Harris. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

Winston waited while a reluctant Millicent completed the introductions. The moment she’d finished, Winston clapped a hand on the viscount’s shoulder. “Care to dance with Miss Harris?”

Though he knew such things were simply not done, he didn’t care.

A ruddiness filled Dunthorpe’s cheeks that suggested embarrassment, but Winston didn’t care about that either. “I-I would be pleased to if the lady is agreeable.”

Millicent stared at Winston with dismay, making it clear he’d made a terrible faux pau .

He smiled in response, happy to have found a way to have a few minutes with Millicent.

“How kind.” Miss Harris’s bright smile as she took Dunthorpe’s offered arm had Winston nodding.

“Shall we?” Winston asked Millicent, tucking her hand beneath his elbow.

“That was rather high-handed of you,” she murmured as they followed the other couple to the dance floor.

“I thought it clever to solve the problem that kept us from dancing.”

Millicent glanced around the ballroom before looking back at him, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “There isn’t another wager, is there?”

“No. Definitely not. Why would you ask?”

“Your behavior is concerning.”

“Because I want to dance with you?”

“Yes, among other things. We’ve even drawn your sister’s attention.”

Winston followed her gaze to see Eliza across the room, head tilted to the side while she watched them as if perplexed. He sighed, her curious expression dampening his mood. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression.

“No need to worry,” Winston said, wondering if he was trying to reassure Millicent or himself.

Millie didn’t know what to make of Winston or his actions. He had made his intentions clear at the garden party but so had she. That he hadn’t chosen to avoid her was surprising. That he wanted another kiss even more so.

Could he have enjoyed the moment as much as she had? At the very least, he’d proven that his words to Dunthorpe at the garden party were lies. Winston seemed to find her appealing given that he’d gone to this much trouble just to speak with her.

But what did she want?

Millie glanced at Catherine who flirted with Viscount Dunthorpe a short distance away. The girl’s boldness amazed her. Millie had never been so confident and tended to remain in the background. No wonder she was thought of as a wallflower.

Yet that tendency hadn’t got her anywhere. Now she was relegated to chaperoning relatives rather than enjoying the ball herself. In truth, she wouldn’t have minded watching over Catherine if Winston hadn’t been in attendance. His presence changed everything.

She needed to take care though and remember what he’d said—he didn’t intend to marry for several years. By then, it would be too late.

Was there a chance she could change his mind? She glanced at him from beneath her lashes as they waited on the edge of the dance floor for the other couples to clear it, heart lurching at the thought. Dare she try? Perhaps she should take some lessons from Catherine and see what happened. Even Tibby had suggested it would take several bold moves to sway Winston.

The challenge would be to make sure not to lose her heart in the process in the event she failed. She couldn’t forget how unlikely it was that she might make a love match when no one else in her family had.

“Shall we?” he asked as the other couples waiting started to move onto the dance floor.

“Yes.” Yes , she repeated silently in answer to her own question as they took their places. She should try. Surely she could manage another kiss or two without falling hopelessly in love with Winston.

And maybe...just maybe...those would entice him into rethinking his opinion of marriage.

She knew they would suit one another perfectly. It wasn’t as if she were blind to his faults, and he had several. But so did she. She liked the idea of trying to become a better person with him at her side. Might he be convinced to feel the same?

He was capable of more than he realized. His tendency to back away when difficulty arose puzzled her. Had there been an incident in his past that convinced him that he wasn’t capable of solving such problems? Yet he had effortlessly found a way to dance with her by arranging for Dunthorpe to dance with Catherine.

His gaze held on her as they waited for the music to begin, one hand on her waist while he held her other hand, his thumb briefly rubbing against her gloved palm. “It has been some time since our last dance.”

She’d been so thrilled when he’d asked her last summer, quickly followed by disappointment when she’d realized he’d only done so because of the wager. “I hardly think that one counted.”

“I asked you a second time, which you refused.”

She nodded, remembering how hard that had been.

“Do you remember what I told you?” he whispered as they started to waltz. “That I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t truly want to dance with you?”

Of course, she did. His words had been burned in her mind since then and given her hope. They were part of the reason she’d acted on her secret tendre .

“I have been longing for another dance with you.”

Her breath caught and it had nothing to do with the swell of the music as they turned. Instead, it had everything to do with the way he looked into her eyes as if he meant every word.

“We do dance quite well together.” Her stomach fluttered as she waited to see if he would agree.

“True.” The small smile on his face was genuine and caused her heart to skip a beat. “We do. That makes me wonder what else we would do well together.”

She hesitated, unaccustomed to flirting in this manner. After a moment of consideration, she lifted her chin and added, “Our kiss was rather spectacular.”

His nostrils flared, eyes darkening at her words. “It was. Most definitely.”

He spun her, and she allowed herself a triumphant smile before facing him once more. “I wouldn’t be opposed to repeating the experience.”

“So you believe me now? That I find you very appealing?”

She frowned, beginning to enjoy the conversation. “Appealing sounds more like how you would describe a delicious leg of lamb.”

Amusement had his eyes sparkling as he slowly nodded. “Understandable. What might be a better word?”

She lifted a brow as they moved in time to the music. “That is for you to say.”

“Lovely, for one.” The deep timbre of his voice caused shivers along his skin. “Desirable, another.”

This time, she was the one who nodded despite the flutters in her stomach. She forced herself to look Winston in the eye and hoped her emotions would show. “I find you desirable as well.”

Surely that elevated her flirting despite his roguish experience.

The surprise in his expression was her reward. Then his gaze dropped to her lips. “Be still my heart. I do hope we can soon share another kiss.”

Millie tried not to read too much into his mention of his heart. That didn’t mean anything to a man like him. But it was a start.

Hope was a persistent, growing bubble inside her, buoying her. She would worry about falling later.