A Secret Seduction (The Mayfair Literary League #8)

14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

M illie tapped her toe in time to the music at the Quincy ball, appreciating the greenery used to make the space look more like a garden than a ballroom. Ivy was wrapped around columns and draped over windows. Potted plants, including trees, dotted the room. The scent of flowers coming from a multitude of vases had her drawing a deep breath, and the terrace doors stood wide open to bring in the cool evening air.

“You are in fine spirits this evening.” Prue smiled, looking especially lovely in a pale yellow silk gown. Or perhaps it was the happiness radiating from her face that made her so.

“It is a nice evening, don’t you think?” Millie asked, trying to keep a tight rein on the tremulous joy that had simmered within her since meeting Winston at the lending library. “I think the décor is quite clever, as if we’re having the ball in a garden.”

“I agree. The greenery provides a much warmer and welcoming atmosphere than the usual gilt and mirrors so often used.”

“I’m happy you are here for the Season, Prue. Events are much more entertaining with you in attendance.”

“It makes sense for Mother and me to remain in London since we need to make preparations for the wedding.” A hint of color filled her cheeks. “A June wedding.” She shook her head, a look of disbelief on her face. “I never would’ve believed it possible a year ago.”

Millie smiled. “You didn’t even venture to London until the summer, and then we were faced with the ridiculous wallflower wager.”

“I was certain I was destined for spinsterhood.” She flashed Millie a sympathetic look. “Not that there is anything wrong with that.”

“No.” Unless one’s heart was lost to another. The worry of whether she should be guarding against such an outcome concerned her. But how could she continue to entice Winston to want to be with her and still protect her heart? It was impossible.

“Do you think the Marquess of Linford will attend this evening?” Prue asked, well aware of the identity of Millie’s secret tendre .

“I am hopeful.” Though her cousin knew of her regard for him, Millie hadn’t shared their recent encounters. Prue would undoubtedly support her, but Millie didn’t want her own hopes lifted more than they already were.

“Good evening, ladies.” Viscount Winstead, Prue’s fiancé, joined them. “May I say you both look lovely this evening?”

Millie smiled as Prue’s expression brightened. “You are sweet,” Prue said with a smile. “And you look handsome as well, Silas.”

He did indeed, even more so because he only had eyes for Prue. The pair made the perfect match in Millie’s opinion, and she was truly happy for them, though their presence made her feel lonelier than ever. She pushed aside the feeling, refusing to allow it to show.

A shiver ran along her skin, and she turned to search for the reason only to see Winston approach. She seemed to be aware of him on a fundamental level. The realization was alarming, suggesting more than just her emotions were involved—a mind, body, and spirit connection.

“Good evening.” He dipped his head in greeting.

“Linford, what a surprise,” the viscount said. “I thought you intended to avoid balls for the foreseeable future.”

“I can’t allow you to have all the fun, now can I?” Winston asked with a lift of his brow. “You seem to have cornered the beauties this evening.” His pointed look at both her and Prue had Millie’s cheeks heating.

If he weren’t careful, he’d set tongues wagging by saying such things.

“Aren’t you being charming?” Prue grinned. “How interesting that Millie is in such good spirits this evening, too.”

Millie’s heart lurched, not appreciating her cousin’s admission even as her attention returned to Winston, wondering what he thought.

“Oh?” His warm gaze held on her. “Is that right?” The amusement in his expression, as if they shared a private jest, had her relaxing.

“I am happy.” She perused the ballroom to suggest the event was the reason for her fine mood. “It’s a lovely ball, and some of my favorite people are here.” She patted Prue’s arm, but her gaze returned to Winston and held there.

His eyes widened in response, the delight in them warming her further. Oh, how she loved to surprise him.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Prue leaned close to press her arm against Millie’s, seemingly oblivious to the silent communication between Winston and Millie.

“Good evening, everyone.”

Millie’s breath caught as Eliza and Trentworth joined them. She dropped into a curtsy as did Prue while the gentlemen bowed.

“Hope you are all well,” Trentworth said as he dipped his head, looking at each of them in turn.

“Indeed.” Winston nodded. “We were just commenting on the ball.” He studied Eliza, who watched her husband, leaving Millie to wonder what Winston was thinking. Did he worry about what his sister thought upon seeing them together again?

Millie certainly did. Even now, she focused on Eliza rather than Winston, concerned what Eliza’s reaction might be if she discovered their attraction to one another.

“The décor is unusual,” Eliza said, turning to examine the room. “I like it. Quite refreshing.”

“Lady Quincy will be the talk of the town after this,” Millie managed, making sure her gaze didn’t return to Winston.

“True,” Eliza agreed. “Everyone else will be trying to outdo this.”

“If you all will excuse us, I would like to dance with my fiancée. If you’re agreeable?” Viscount Winstead asked Prue.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Prue took his offered arm. “We shall return.”

Uncertainty and nerves kept Millie frozen in place. Surely Winston wouldn’t ask her to dance in front of Eliza. He wouldn’t want his sister to guess at what simmered between them.

“My duchess, would you care to dance, as well?” Trentworth asked Eliza, who smiled in return.

“Indeed, I would.” She turned to Millie and Winston. “If you’ll excuse us.”

“Of course,” Millie said, relieved until she saw Winston’s hand extended toward her even though Eliza had only started to turn away.

“Millicent, may I have the honor of this dance?”

Millie stilled at his use of her given name, hoping Eliza hadn’t heard him. “How kind of you.”

But she had.

Eliza turned back to glance between them, brows lifted with curiosity. “Millicent? Are the two of you on such familiar terms?”

Winston didn’t bat an eye. “I feel as if all the ladies in your literary league are friends of mine.”

Trentworth narrowed his eyes, suggesting Winston hadn’t fooled him, but much to Millie’s relief, he didn’t say anything.

“I am happy to hear that.” Yet her expression suggested otherwise as she glanced between Winston and Millie. Then she and her husband departed for the dance floor.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to dance, I suppose,” Winston muttered. “I fear it only further stirred her concern about us.”

Millie’s heart dipped and remained there. Why, she didn’t know, when she didn’t want Eliza to know about them either. Except that Winston hiding it from his sister confirmed their dalliance was only temporary.

Dalliance was an apt term—a lighthearted frivolity that would soon end.

Her heart ached at the thought. Suddenly it felt impossible to enjoy their time together when she already knew how she’d feel when it ended—devastated.

She forced a smile, unwilling to allow Winston to see her upset. “More than likely.” She searched for her mother and found her a fair distance away. “Perhaps it would be best if we forego the dance. I should return to my mother. She’ll be wondering what’s become of me.” After all, she couldn’t remain speaking with Winston by herself without drawing notice. Moving away would protect them both from wagging tongues.

“Don’t you want to dance?” he asked with a frown.

Before she could respond, Viscount Dunthorpe joined them. “Good evening.”

Millie managed a polite smile as she returned the viscount’s greeting, though he was the last person she wanted to see. Oddly enough, Winston scowled at him, though Dunthorpe appeared oblivious to Winston’s displeasure.

“Seems as if it would’ve been easier to simply hold the ball out of doors, don’t you think?” Dunthorpe asked as he glanced around the ballroom with a frown. “Why bring inside what’s supposed to be out?”

“I like it,” Winston countered. “Something different.”

Dunthorpe looked at her. “There aren’t any hedges.”

Millie held back a smile at the incredulous look Winston gave him.

“Why would there be?” Winston asked.

“Never mind.” Dunthorpe shook his head as a ruddiness coated his cheeks.

A dance had already begun, so she and Winston would have to wait for the next one. Unfortunately, Millie’s mother signaled for her to join her.

“If you will excuse me.” Millie sent Winston an apologetic look, fearing he wouldn’t remain at the ball long enough for them to dance together.

“Of course.” He dipped his head. “Will you please save me the next dance?”

Her heart lightened with his request. “I will.”

“May I have the one after that?” Dunthorpe asked.

Millie stilled, though she shouldn’t be surprised. “Of course. Thank you.”

With that, she returned to her mother, waiting impatiently for the next dance to begin. The evening was going better than she could’ve hoped, despite Dunthorpe’s appearance. That Winston had followed through with his invitation to dance, something he’d mentioned at the lending library, surely showed he cared for her. How much remained to be seen.

A concerted search of the club late the following afternoon at last revealed Winston’s quarry in one of the card rooms.

“I need a word, Dunthorpe.” Winston didn’t care that he was interrupting a game.

The viscount frowned, eyes narrowing at Winston’s less-than-friendly tone. “Regarding what?”

Aware of the interested gazes of the other men at the table, all of whom he knew, he modified his tone. “A private matter.”

“You will have to wait until we finish the hand, Linford,” one of the other men insisted with a glare.

Frustration simmering inside him, Winston reluctantly nodded and departed before he was tempted to grab Dunthorpe by the arm and haul him out. It wouldn’t do to show his upset.

The reason for his displeasure was nothing he cared to examine too closely. After all, he had enjoyed a dance with Millicent the previous evening. In fact, he’d enjoyed it very much. But he couldn’t deny the poor mood that had come over him the moment he’d watched Dunthorpe escort her away for his turn.

After a sleepless night, Winston determined he needed to clear the air with the viscount and make him aware that his pursuit of Millicent was unwise. There was no need for Winston to declare his own interest in her. He’d simply warn the man off and tell him he should look elsewhere for a bride.

He shifted his shoulders to ward off the guilt that settled over him at the thought of how selfish he was being. But he didn’t appreciate feeling pressed between two impossible choices. Much like he had done in the past, he refused to make a decision. Better that he simply waited to see what hand fate dealt. That way, he wouldn’t be to blame if the outcome didn’t go the way he hoped. Never mind his faulty logic.

First, he needed Dunthorpe out of the way.

After getting a drink, he settled in a corner table so their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. It wasn’t long before Dunthorpe sauntered out of the card room and, after a glance around the room, joined Winston.

“I do believe I have you to thank for my poor luck, Linford,” the viscount accused as he sank into a chair at the table.

“You shouldn’t wager what you’re unwilling to lose.” As if any man in the club hadn’t done just that at least once, including Winston.

“Humph.” Dunthorpe shook his head. “What is it you wanted to speak to me about?”

“I think it best that you pursue someone other than Miss Davies.” No need to beat about the bush when he could get straight to the point.

“Why is that?”

“I have come to know her better the last week or two, and I can say with certainty you wouldn’t suit.” There. That should solve the problem.

Dunthorpe stared at him with a perplexed look on his face. “I disagree.”

“How do you mean?” Winston was insulted. “You asked my opinion, and I’m giving it to you.”

“Yes, well, I called on her and had a nice conversation with her and her mother.”

“You called on her?” Winston was astounded. Panic rose, causing his breath to quicken. His palms grew damp, his mouth dry. “When?”

“Just the other day.” Dunthorpe looked pleased with himself. “And the dance last evening was nice as well.”

“Nice?” What was that supposed to mean?

“Yes. She is quite graceful.”

Millicent was much more than that. She followed his lead effortlessly and he liked the feeling of her in his arms.

“The more I think upon it, the more reasons I find to like her,” Dunthorpe continued.

“Such as?”

“She is kind, always polite.” He paused to think. “She is pretty. Or at least she has nice eyes. Brown, I think.”

Winston took a gulp of his drink to keep from grabbing the viscount by the throat. Her eyes weren’t “nice” or “brown.” They were cobalt blue and beautiful. She was beautiful.

“She seems to like to do more than shop, although her penchant for reading is concerning.” Dunthorpe leaned forward, elbows on the table as if speaking in confidence. “My father says that’s never good. They soon think they know more than you.”

Millicent knew more than either of them put together. Winston was sure of it. That was an excellent trait as far as he was concerned. Why wouldn’t he want a wife who challenged him and with whom he could share interesting conversations?

“I think she might make an excellent wife.” Dunthorpe leaned back in his chair. “I plan to send her flowers tomorrow. What kind do you think she prefers?”

“Flowers make her sneeze.” Winston did not want Dunthorpe to send Millicent flowers. He didn’t want him anywhere near her, especially when he clearly didn’t appreciate her finer qualities.

“Truly?” The viscount frowned. “She did mention she admired hedges. But she seemed to enjoy the flowers at the garden party earlier this afternoon.”

“That’s different.” The man’s words sank in. “Wait. You saw her today?”

“Yes. We met at the Thurston garden party and spent a pleasant hour together.” His lips twisted as if deep in thought, oblivious to Winston’s upset or his rising panic. “Perhaps I could send chocolates instead.”

Winston had heard enough. He tossed back the rest of his drink and stood. “Another terrible idea. You should think these things through before you act, Dunthorpe.”

“But I—”

“And next time, don’t ask my opinion if you’re not willing to listen.” With that, Winston took his leave, unable to believe how quickly the situation was spiraling out of control. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath at the idea of Millicent no longer being available to talk or flirt with. She couldn’t marry Dunthorpe, but he didn’t know how to stop it.