A Secret Seduction (The Mayfair Literary League #8)

19. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

“ I am pleased to see you are acting more yourself,” Millie’s mother said after they’d exited the carriage before Lord and Lady Barclay’s residence to attend yet another ball. “You must’ve had some sort of illness.”

Millie smiled. “I feel much better now.”

“Good.” Her mother nodded. “Dunthorpe will more than likely attend, so be sure to encourage him. And you need all your wits about you to watch over your cousin. Your aunt is beside herself about Catherine’s behavior of late.” She shuddered. “The girl will find herself ruined if she’s not careful.”

Millie thought again about the moment at the Radcliff ball when she chose to deny indulging in another clandestine meeting with Winston. She had no regrets about that choice as risking ruin was nothing to take lightly.

Yes, she still yearned for a life with him but realized now that she deserved to be loved and chosen for who she was rather than what she did. But as she followed her mother into the grand house, she had to admit that although she felt different, little in her world had changed.

A glance around the ballroom didn’t immediately reveal any of her friends, or Winston, but the hour was still early. She had yet to determine what she would say to Winston if given the chance to speak with him.

They joined her aunt and Catherine.

“You look lovely,” Catherine said as she studied Millie’s gown.

“Thank you.” Millie smoothed a gloved hand along her side. She’d purposefully worn one of her favorites, a pale green silk with brown, braided trim and seed pearls embellishing the bodice, to bolster her confidence. “You look pretty as well.”

“Mother insisted I have a new gown since I’ve worn the others at least once already.” Catherine glanced down at the white silk with lace edging that must’ve cost a pretty penny. “I do hope it helps me catch a gentleman’s eye.”

“There’s no rush,” Millie advised her. “You should enjoy the Season before worrying about such things.”

Catherine frowned. “Please know I don’t mean any disrespect, but I do not care to be left sitting on the shelf like you.” She shuddered. “You are very courageous to put on such a brave front, despite still remaining unmarried.”

Millie clenched her hand into a fist in the folds of her skirts, refusing to show how hurtful the words were but wouldn’t remain silent. “We all have our own path. I, for one, am pleased I wasn’t forced to marry my first Season.” She placed emphasis on the word to bring home her point. “I’m sure you don’t want that either.”

Catherine shook her head, a condescending smile on her face. “As I said, you are so brave.”

Millie bit back a retort, knowing it would serve no purpose. Her cousin needed to learn her own lessons.

Brave . She nodded at the word as it described her the last few weeks. Even if nothing came of her efforts to flirt with Winston, she was pleased to have taken advantage of the opportunities presented. She was a better person for the experience and would always treasure the special moments they had shared.

Millie turned her attention from her cousin to peruse the quickly filling ballroom. A heaven-themed mural was painted on the tall ceiling with robe-clad angels, exotic flowers, and golden gates. White fluted columns ran along the center, separating the dance floor from the rest of the room. Massive crystal chandeliers lit the area and touches of silver were everywhere, from trays on tables to vases that held white lilies to pots of tall ferns.

The grandness of it was almost overdone in Millie’s eyes. She much preferred the garden theme from the Quincy ball. The first dance was about to begin, and couples took their places on the parquet floor.

Winifred waved from across the room, and it bolstered Millie’s confidence to know a friend was nearby. She would visit with her when one of her relatives was available to watch over Catherine.

She settled for speaking with her aunt and another cousin in addition to Catherine. She couldn’t help but keep an eye on the doorway for Winston, though she remained doubtful he would attend.

Unfortunately, Viscount Dunthorpe walked in, and she quickly turned away, preferring to wait as long as possible before greeting him. She supposed he would ask her to dance. Dread filled her at the idea. She had yet to warm to the thought of marrying him and doubted her feelings would change. Perhaps a heartfelt conversation with her father would sway him from the match. Remaining unwed seemed preferable to marrying a man she didn’t even like.

Soon Catherine was asked to dance. Millie watched the pair to ensure nothing untoward occurred and was relieved when her younger cousin returned at the end of the dance without any mishap.

It didn’t take long before Catherine was asked again, a testament to how popular she already was. Millie frowned when the couple paused to visit after the dance ended. Catherine continually touched the gentleman’s arm, a habit she had with most everyone. But it wasn’t appropriate with someone outside the family. Millie made a mental note to mention it to her, only to feel old at the thought.

Would this be her future? Acting the part of a spinster aunt who fussed over the slightest misstep, certain it would bring ruin?

She huffed out a breath, hoping that wouldn’t come to pass. She returned her attention to Catherine, only to realize she wasn’t where she’d been a moment ago. Unease crawled along Millie’s skin as she searched the crowd for her.

With a gasp, she caught sight of a lady in a white gown who looked like her cousin slipping out the patio door.

Good heavens! What was Catherine thinking?

Millie stole a glance at her aunt, Catherine’s mother, who had yet to notice.

“I’ll return directly,” Millie told her own mother and then made her way across the room, winding through guests who paid her little mind.

She could only hope no one had noticed Catherine’s departure. Millie reached the door and stepped onto the patio, the soft glow of a few lanterns barely penetrating the dark night as she closed the door behind her.

“Catherine? Catherine, where are you?” She blinked as her eyes adjusted, but the stone patio stood empty. A bench graced one end, but no one was in sight. Where could she be? “Catherine?”

The sound of the door opening tightened Millie’s stomach. She spun to face whoever had joined her, worried it would be her aunt or mother. She braced for a lecture for having allowed Catherine to escape her sight.

Dunthorpe closed the door behind him, a smile on his face. “Miss Davies. How f-fortuitous.”

“Pardon me?”

“F-fortuitousss,” he repeated, swaying slightly. “Being the bookish-sh sort, you ssurely know what it means.”

Millie studied the viscount. He seemed to be slurring his words. Had he been drinking? “Are you well, my lord?”

“Quite.” He gave a decisive nod then bobbed his head a few times, seemingly unable to halt the movement. “I ’ave come to the d-determination that we should kisssss.”

“What?” She glanced around at the empty patio, wishing Catherine would return. “I do not think that wise.”

“What better way to discover if we s-suit?” he asked.

“If we are seen alone together, it won’t matter whether we suit. We will be forced to marry.” She stepped around him to move toward the door. Searching for Catherine would have to wait until she found someone to aid her.

“N-nonsense.” Dunthorpe hiccupped. “One kiss will cause no harm.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “Jus one. Thas all I need.”

“Release me!” She didn’t want a kiss from him, nor did she want to be caught with the drunken viscount. It would surely result in a complete disaster.

“This is our ch-chance.” He tugged her even closer despite her attempt to free herself.

“No. Let go!” She jerked her arm as he leaned closer. The smell of spirits on his breath confirmed her suspicions and had her turning aside to avoid the kiss. “Dunthorpe, stop this! Release me at once.”

Panic skittered through her, causing her to struggle even harder to no avail. The man had an iron grip, squeezing her upper arms until she winced in pain.

“Hol s-still.” He leaned closer as her fear took a firmer grasp.

“I will never marry you,” she cried and stomped on his foot, to no effect.

He only tightened his grasp, leaving Millie to fear she wouldn’t escape the assault unscathed.

Winston arrived at the ball later than he’d planned but flooded with satisfaction. How had he never realized that decisions could be so invigorating?

He’d spent the afternoon interviewing stewards, having terminated Mr. Jenkins’ employment. Though Winston couldn’t completely shut out the voice of doubt at his actions, he was confident he’d done the right thing. He wanted to modernize the management of the holdings, and Jenkins didn’t.

That fundamental difference in their philosophy wasn’t something that could be overcome. The meeting with his friends had convinced him to trust himself and act.

Winston intended the firing of his steward to be one of many steps to claim his future—a future of his choosing. Right or wrong, making decisions felt more empowering than waiting to see what turn the future might take.

After greeting the hosts, he entered the ballroom and immediately searched for Millicent. Though he’d hoped to call on her this afternoon, his meetings had lasted longer than he’d anticipated. He didn’t know if she would be in attendance, but he dearly hoped so. Urgency filled him. He couldn’t wait to tell her what was in his heart. Something told him there wasn’t a moment to lose, and he intended to heed it.

Eagerness poured through him when he caught sight of her mother. Surely Millicent was nearby.

Yet she wasn’t anywhere in sight. He shifted his focus to the dance floor, dreading the thought of her with Dunthorpe or any other man. He couldn’t bear it.

Unable to see with so many guests roaming about, he moved toward the dance floor, searching as he went. He would have to apologize for the way he’d left the musicale. He only hoped she would forgive him.

Even more, he hoped she was willing to consider his suit. He wanted to spend every possible moment with her and formally courting her would be the first step toward his goal of marrying her.

His stomach clenched with nerves, worried she might reject him. Had their time together and those earth-shattering kisses meant as much to her as they had to him?

His thoughts in turmoil, he nodded at a few acquaintances but didn’t stop to speak to anyone, too focused on finding Millicent. He made his way around the entire dance floor, studying the couples without success.

The feel of the cool evening breeze had him turning to see the patio door ajar and movement through the glass pane caught his attention.

A couple appeared to be in an intimate embrace, scandalous to witness at a ball. Yet a moment later, he realized the woman struggled against the man’s grasp.

Not just any woman. Millicent .

Rage bubbled up inside Winston as he flung open the door and hurried out. “Let her go.” He grabbed the man’s arm, turning him, even more enraged to realize the man’s identity. Dunthorpe.

“W-what are you ’bout?” The viscount glared as he tried to tug free of Winston’s grasp.

“Gentlemen do not accost ladies.”

“We’re practically be’rothed.”

Panic took hold. Was he too late? Had plans been made while he was sorting out his life? His focus shifted to Millicent, his heart in his throat.

“We are not,” she advised the viscount with a lift of her chin.

“I only wanted a kiss.” He nudged Winston with his elbow and leaned close as if to tell a confidence, reeking of alcohol. “Need to know if we’d s-suit, don’t I?”

Anger warred with disbelief at the man’s arrogance. Without a second thought, Winston drew back and punched him in the face, sending him reeling backward. “Next time, ask permission.”

“Damn, Linford.” Dunthorpe held his face as he caught his balance only to take another staggering step.

“Millicent, are you all right?” Winston looked her over from head to toe, relieved to see nothing out of place.

“I’m fine.” She rubbed her arm with one hand as she glared at Dunthorpe. “He wouldn’t listen.”

Winston wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms, but he hesitated, uncertain if his embrace would be anymore welcome than Dunthorpe’s had been. Whether it was possible that she could be his. He glanced at the viscount who moaned, still holding his jaw, before turning back to her. “Millicent, I—”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes widened as she stared over his shoulder through the ballroom window. “We’ve been seen. And Mother is coming this way.” The worry and panic on her face tugged at him, and he dearly wanted to soothe it. “You must go, Winston. Hurry.”

“What?”

“If you’re caught with me, you could be trapped.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you forced to...do anything you don’t want.”

Love swelled within him, tightening his chest. To think that she wanted to save him from having to offer for her touched him deeply and made him love her even more.

“Millicent.” He reached to take her hands gently in his, heart aching at the way they trembled. She was the finest, loveliest, most amazing person he knew. He didn’t deserve her, but he intended to spend every day doing his best to prove otherwise.

“Go, Winston,” she demanded, her gaze darting between him and the ballroom. She stole a glance over her shoulder at Dunthorpe, who was emptying the contents of his stomach in the bushes. “The viscount and I were more than likely going to marry anyway.”

The resigned tone bordered on despair and threatened to bring Winston to his knees. “Millicent, you must listen.”

Instead, she pulled her hands free. “Please go.”

“I can’t. I love you.” He didn’t like not holding her as he said the words, needing the anchor she provided. But he would do it a hundred times more if necessary to get her to listen.

Her mouth gaped, blue eyes going wide. “Winston.”

The door opened before he could say anything further.

“Millie?” Mrs. Davies looked between them, outrage etched on her face. “What is going on?”

Another woman accompanied her, a relative if Winston remembered correctly. Several other guests spilled onto the patio to see what the ruckus was about.

“Mother, I can explain,” Millicent began.

“Yes, we can,” Winston added as Dunthorpe moved toward them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Look ’ere,” Dunthorpe began. “If I’m to marry her...” He gestured toward Millicent only to stagger, making it look as though he pointed to Mrs. Davies, who stiffened in offense.

“Ignore him.” Winston was tempted to shove the other man into the hedge before he ruined everything. Instead, he took Millicent’s hand and dropped to one knee, anxious to get the words out before he lost the chance. “Millicent, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A shocked silence descended as even more guests stepped out to see what was happening.

“Winston.” Millicent blinked, her fingers tightening on his. “Are you sure?”

“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” He swallowed hard, ignoring the audience. He had intended to ask permission to court her rather than propose, but given the situation, he was eager to move forward and hoped she agreed. The sooner she was his, the happier he would be.

While he would’ve preferred to have the conversation in private, this would have to do, regardless of who listened.

“I love you, Millicent, with all that I am, and all that I hope to be. You have changed my life for the better, and I promise to spend the rest of my days making you happy. I will do my best to be the man you think I am.”

Those who watched gasped in unison. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs. Davies press a hand over her mouth as if both shocked and touched by his speech. He couldn’t blame her as he was a bit shocked as well.

“Winston, I love you, too. So much.” The tremble in Millicent’s voice echoed in his heart. “You are everything I ever hoped for. I would be honored to have you as my husband.”

The guests applauded in response.

Relief made his knees weak, but he managed to stand and lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss there, sealing his promise. “You’ve made me so happy.”

“Hey, now.” Dunthorpe’s angry tone had them turning to look at him. “What’s all tis about? I’m the one who intends to court her.”

“You’re too late,” Winston advised him, not bothering to hide his smug tone. “You should’ve decided whether you liked her sooner. She’s mine now. Forever and always.”

Dunthorpe muttered something unintelligible, turned on his heel, and staggered into the dark garden.

“This is all quite unexpected,” Mrs. Davies began as she looked at her daughter, whose beaming smile was impossible to ignore. “But delightful.” She turned to Winston. “Welcome to the family, my lord. I’m certain my husband will also be delighted by the news.”

“I will call on him tomorrow morning if that is agreeable.”

“That will be fine.” She reached to embrace Millicent. “Congratulations, dear. I don’t have to ask if you’re happy, for I can see that you are.”

“I am.” Millicent hugged her for a long moment. “Absolutely thrilled.”

Winston took Millicent’s hand and tucked it under his arm. “Shall we return inside? I would like nothing more than to dance with you.” Actually, he would prefer to kiss her, but a dance would have to do until they had a moment alone. It might be selfish of him, but he hoped one would come soon.

They held back as the guests returned inside, led by Mrs. Davies and Millicent’s younger cousin, though he didn’t recall seeing her earlier.

He drew a deep breath, appreciating the absolute joy that filled him as he shared a tender look with Millicent. She’d helped him discover a part of himself that had been buried for too long. He liked to think his mother and father would be proud of him for finding the joy that had eluded both of them.

More importantly, he was at peace with himself, knowing that with Millicent at his side, he would have a life he’d never dared to dream for himself.

“I believe this is our waltz,” he murmured, then led her to the dance floor and gathered her into his arms, vowing never to let her go.