15. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
“ D arling, look at this!”
Millie glanced up from reading a book in the drawing room to see her mother leading the way for the butler who carried a large bouquet of flowers.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” Her mother’s excitement over the flowers had Millie staring in surprise. “How wonderful.”
Millie’s heart tripped as she admired the beautiful blooms in a variety of colors. “Lovely. They’re for me?” she asked when the butler continued toward her.
Surely they weren’t from Winston. But oh, how she wished they were.
“Yes,” her mother advised as Millie gestured for the butler to place them on the nearby table. “Here’s the card that accompanied them.”
She reluctantly took the envelope her mother handed her and opened it, bracing for disappointment. Sadly, she was correct.
Her mother, who peered over her shoulder to read the message, clapped her hands. “Viscount Dunthorpe. How wonderful.” She squeezed Millie’s shoulder. “I am so happy for you, dear.”
“Th-thank you.” Millie couldn’t say the same. She didn’t care for the viscount, nor did she think they had much in common. She couldn’t imagine spending more time with him, let alone the rest of their lives. What would they speak about across the dinner table? And the idea of performing wifely duties in the bedroom with him was enough to make her shudder. She had no desire to kiss him or be intimate in any fashion.
The knot of dread in her stomach was enough to make her ill. How had her sisters managed to accept such a fate? Had they never had feelings for another, making it bearable?
Though tempted to ask, what difference would it make? She felt as if she were on a train bound for a destination she didn’t want to venture to, and there were no stops to allow her to disembark.
She couldn’t deny Winston had thoroughly caught her affection. She need only think of how excited she would be if he were the one calling and sending flowers. Her feelings when he was near, both physical and emotional, were in stark contrast to how she felt with Dunthorpe.
“Wait until I tell your father. He will be so pleased.”
“Mother, could we slow down...plans with the viscount?” Millie asked. “I am in no rush to marry.” Not him, anyway.
“Momentum is on our side, and we must take full advantage of it.” Her mother shook her head. “There are many young ladies out there in need of husbands, and here you are, lucky enough to have caught a gentleman’s interest at your age.”
Millie frowned. Though she knew Society agreed, she would’ve thought her own mother would consider the man the lucky one. Nor did she appreciate the suggestion that her age was advanced, even if her sisters all had been married when they were younger.
“I realize you have danced with the Marquess of Linford once or twice, but don’t allow that to give you false hope. Everyone knows he doesn’t intend to marry.”
Before she could find a way to further protest, her mother continued, “Marriage is something you have looked forward to your whole life. I know it’s concerning when presented with a new experience with which you are unfamiliar, but you will soon become accustomed to it. Give yourself time.”
Millie stared, wondering if her mother knew her at all. As a girl, she had never mentioned a longing to marry because she had never felt one, especially after watching her sisters’ less-than-ideal matches.
She hadn’t longed for marriage until her attention had been caught by Winston.
Before he entered her life, she had been resigned to enduring the same fate as her sisters or perhaps settling for spinsterhood, but she hadn’t truly contemplated what those options might mean until now.
As if realizing Millie remained unconvinced, her mother sank into the chair beside her. “Once you and Dunthorpe spend more time together, you will see. It helps if you look for traits to admire in him.”
“So I’m to convince myself that I’m attracted to him?”
Her mother’s expression gentled. “Sometimes that’s necessary. And it certainly makes duties in the bedroom easier.” She looked away, seeming suddenly interested in the flowers.
Millie’s breath caught, seeing her mother in a new light. Was that what she’d had to do when she and Father had married? The question had her reviewing her parents’ relationship with fresh eyes.
Perhaps Millie was na?ve to hope she might escape an arranged marriage if not only her sisters but also her mother, had endured one.
“I don’t think we would be having this conversation if not for those friends of yours in the literary league,” her mother continued. “They have given you ridiculous ideas.”
Millie stiffened, unwilling to allow any derogatory comments about her friends. “That’s not true. They have given me hope for a happier future because they have all found love. Why wouldn’t I want that for myself as well?”
“Love is not practical.” Her mother’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Not for us. Your cousin Prudence is a good example. She and Viscount Winstead might think they’ve found love, but they would be better off if they’d been practical and chosen partners with wealth. They have a long road ahead if they’re forced to scrape by.”
Millie could hardly believe her ears. “The viscount has already received investment offers for his windmill design. They have every reason to expect a bright future. All the more so because they have one another and the love they share.”
Color was high in her mother’s cheeks as she stood. “We shall see. But I want more for you than trying to make ends meet. An arranged marriage was good enough for your sisters and it will be good enough for you.”
“Mother, I only wish to—”
“The time for wishes has passed, Millie. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but we must be practical and think of the future. You’re not getting any younger. Your father and I expect you to be betrothed by June, preferably sooner.”
Millie’s stomach plummeted and her heart along with it. “That’s less than two months from now.”
“I am aware. And now you are as well.” Her mother lifted a brow. “The Radcliff ball is in two days’ time, and I expect that Dunthorpe will be in attendance. You will do your best to charm him and encourage his suit.”
Millie couldn’t bring herself to agree, not given the lump in her throat. But when her mother continued to stare, she reluctantly nodded, feeling much like a bird trapped in a cage with no hope of escape.
She wasn’t betrothed yet, she reminded herself. Perhaps another bold move was necessary to see how Winston might react. If she had to marry Viscount Dunthorpe, she would do so knowing she’d done everything she could to help Winston see her as a potential wife and partner.
Winston held his patience while he waited in the long reception queue to greet Lord and Lady Radcliff then, at last, entered the ballroom. He tried to act casually while he perused the room for Millicent, but he was anxious to see her and had high hopes she would be there.
Whether Dunthorpe would also attend remained to be seen. Winston doubted the viscount had heeded his advice about not sending Millicent flowers or chocolates. The man seemed determined to pursue her. The list of reasons Dunthorpe found her appealing had been achingly familiar, though he’d done a poor job of describing them.
The viscount didn’t value her highly enough. Winston shrugged away the whisper of guilt that reminded him he hadn’t proved his own regard for her either since he wasn’t willing to formally court her.
“There’s plenty of time,” he muttered to himself as he eased his way through the crowd. There was no reason for panic. At least, that was what he told himself despite the nervous energy that simmered within him.
“Plenty of time for what?” Viscount Garland asked.
Winston blinked, not having seen his friend even though he’d walked directly past him. “For the ball. Felt like I waited hours to greet the hosts.”
“Yes, quite the crush, isn’t it?” Garland glanced around. “Hard to find anyone with so many people in attendance.”
Winston looked at those nearby, hoping Millicent might be visiting with Garland’s wife but didn’t see them. “Is your wife here?”
“She is visiting with friends just over there.” The viscount tipped his head to a group of ladies a short distance away.
Winston’s heart leapt at the sight of Millicent among them.
“Is all well?” Garland asked, frowning at the hand Winston had unknowingly pressed to his heart.
“Oh.” Winston dropped his hand, embarrassed by the action. He didn’t know what was wrong with him of late. It wasn’t as if he were a lovesick lad. Surely a little more time with Millicent would be enough to shed his fixation.
In fact, if he were smart, he’d search for a more suitable lady this very evening. A widow, perhaps. Someone experienced, with no expectations of him or their relationship. Yet somehow the idea held no appeal.
Clearly the situation was causing him to lose his mind, he realized with a frustrated sigh.
His gaze returned to Millicent, admiring her as she spoke with the Marchioness of Montfort, along with Lady Garland and several others.
She looked radiant in a pink gown that brought to mind delicate rosebuds. Her animation and warm smile had him smiling in return.
Caleb Godwin, the Marquess of Montfort, joined them. “Good to see you, Linford.” He reached out to shake Winston’s hand.
“It’s been a while.” Winston had enjoyed the stories of his time in America when he’d last seen him at the club, but that had been months ago. Such was the life of a newly married man, he supposed. How shocking to realize Winston no longer thought less of him for preferring to spend time alone with his wife.
“Garland, don’t you think Linford has the look?” Montfort asked as he studied Winston.
“Yes, I do,” Garland agreed, his amusement obvious.
“What look?” Winston asked, frowning as he glanced between them.
“Besotted,” Montfort said with a grin. Then he leaned closer. “Take it from us—it’s far easier if you simply give in.”
“Excellent advice.” Garland nodded.
“I have no idea what the two of you are talking about,” Winston lied. Besotted ? The idea was preposterous.
Yes, he had a certain fascination with Millicent at the moment. But infatuations passed, and soon another would take its place. It was the way of things. How often had he witnessed his father do the same, despite being married?
He needed to remember that or risk hurting Millicent. Never mind that he’d considered courting her in the future. In order to do that, he would have to work harder to purge his father’s traits.
The two happily married men standing beside him didn’t know him. He wasn’t like them, no matter how much he wished he were.
But there was one thing he was very good at—pretending. Pretending that none of it mattered. That family and societal expectations didn’t concern him. That losing Millicent wouldn’t hurt. That he found it all amusing.
Winston forced a smile. “I believe you have me confused with someone else. Just because you’re both in love doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”
Yet his gaze slid to Millicent as if to confirm his lie.
Damn if Dunthorpe didn’t arrive just then, greeting Millicent with a smile followed by a polite nod at the others in the group.
“Miss Davies already has a suitor,” Winston added. “There’s no need for me to become involved.” As if he wasn’t already neck deep.
Garland cleared his throat, catching Winston’s attention. “I don’t believe we mentioned which lady we suspected had caught your affection.”
Montfort squeezed Winston’s shoulder. “But thank you for confirming our suspicions.” He laughed as irritation stole through Winston. “Your secret is safe with us.”
Secret? Somehow he suspected it wouldn’t remain so for long. His friends would share the moment with their wives and soon the whole literary league would hear about it, including Millicent. That would be a mistake for them both.
He cleared his throat. “I would ask that you not mention anything to your lovely wives. As you might guess, matters are far from settled between us.” Especially since he had yet to decide if she was only an infatuation or something more.
“All is not smooth sailing?” Montfort asked with a lifted brow.
“Not precisely.” Winston had no idea how the situation might end at this point. “There are...difficulties.”
“Understandable.” Garland nodded. “The path to happiness is rarely easy.”
“But a challenging one makes you appreciate the result more.” Montfort rocked back on his heels as his gaze rested on his wife. “Some are more challenging than others.”
“You can’t be suggesting yours was more so than mine,” Garland said with an astounded look.
Winston heaved a sigh as the two men continued to argue as to who had it worse. Luckily, Dunthorpe departed, lifting a weight from his shoulders.
To his surprise, Millicent glanced at him as if sensing his regard. Her sweet smile as their eyes met caused his heart to somersault, a terribly uncomfortable feeling when it felt as if it might roll from his chest to land at her feet.
If he wasn’t careful, soon his heart might be hers. He shrugged away the worry, telling himself that couldn’t be further from the truth. Before he could convince himself, Millicent and Lady Montfort moved to join them.
“Good evening,” Lady Montfort said with a nod to the men as she took her husband’s offered arm.
Millicent nodded in greeting as well. “A lovely ball, isn’t it?”
“Sure.” Winston forced himself to look away before he took her by the hand to find a secluded corner. “Though it looks much like the last one.”
He knew he was being contrary and rude—like his father had often been, but he had to do something to release the tightness in his chest.
“Enjoyment is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose,” he continued, looking back toward the group in time to catch the questioning look Lady Montfort sent Millicent.
“I don’t know.” Millicent lifted a brow as she met his gaze. “Time with friends is always a pleasure as far as I am concerned.” She waited, as if daring him to disagree.
To his surprise, he found his unsettled mood calming, whether it was because of the way she challenged what he’d said or her presence, he didn’t know. For now, he allowed the feeling to wash over him and bring much-needed peace to blanket him. He remained silent as the conversation continued without him.
It didn’t take long to realize he simply had to dance with her even if it caused gossip, since he’d done so on other occasions as well.
“May I have the honor of a dance?” he asked quietly.
A smile lit her eyes before curling her lips. “I would like that.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” he said to the group and offered his arm which Millicent took, her touch soothing an ache deep inside him despite the layers of clothing that separated them.
She said nothing as they moved to the edge of the dance floor to wait for the music to end. It was almost as if she understood his thoughts were in turmoil and didn’t want to add to them.
“Has Dunthorpe declared himself?” he found himself asking.
“Not yet, although he sent flowers. My mother was beside herself with excitement.”
His heart sank at the news. The viscount was moving quickly and might make an offer soon. Winston couldn’t bear the thought of Millicent marrying him.
Or was it that he couldn’t bear her not being his?
The other couples cleared the floor, and Winston led her onto it. But the pleasure of dancing with her was dampened by the news of Dunthorpe’s actions. Had he already lost her to the viscount?
A kiss would surely distract his bothersome thoughts. He eased them in the direction of the open terrace door as the dance drew to a close then halted on the dance floor. “Shall we step out for a moment?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
Her gaze searched his face, and he suddenly had the impression he’d disappointed her. “I-I’m sorry but I don’t dare. I am to dance with Dunthorpe next.”
“I see.”
She dropped her gaze for a brief moment. “I wish—” She cut off the words and met his gaze again as she shook her head. “My mother says I shouldn’t bother with them.”
“With what?”
“Wishes.”
His heart pinched at that. Never mind that it almost sounded like something he would say. But he wanted Millicent’s wishes to come true. He wanted her to dream and reach for the stars. For her to find happiness.
Didn’t that mean she would be better off without him?
“I should return.” She glanced over her shoulder toward where her mother must be.
“Of course.” He offered his arm, her touch bittersweet. “I must be going anyway.” Yet the thought of leaving her to go to his club or his house filled only with servants left a sour taste in his mouth.
How had his attempt to secretly seduce this lovely lady come to the terrible ache he felt from head to toe?