7. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
M illie took the message her maid handed her, Alice’s knowing smile raising her curiosity. She had spent the morning writing letters to her sisters in between wondering when she might see Winston again.
“A secret message for you, miss.” Alice lifted her brows up and down suggestively.
“Secret? From whom?” Millie stared at the slip of paper, puzzled by the maid’s words and demeanor.
“I couldn’t say, but it’s terribly exciting, don’t you think?” Alice’s brown eyes glittered with interest. “Perhaps it is from a secret admirer?”
Millie stilled, breath catching at the hope it could be from Winston. Surely not. “That seems doubtful.” A worrisome thought occurred. “Is my mother aware of it?”
“No.” Alice placed a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle. “It was handed to one of the footmen who was asked to get it to you but keep it secret.”
“Truly? How interesting.” Millie frowned as she fingered the paper, anticipation curling through her. Was that how these things were done?
The conversation she and Winston had at the ball the previous evening hadn’t been concluded as there had been one interruption after another. If he’d only asked her to dance, they could’ve spoken further. But he hadn’t, and she’d been left to think he wasn’t as interested in a kiss as she’d thought.
A request for a clandestine meeting had to be kept secret, she supposed, if that was truly the purpose of the message. Having never had such a meeting, she wasn’t quite sure.
She glanced at the maid, not wanting to be rude, but wishing she’d step away. As anxious as she was to read it, Millie preferred to do so in private.
Alice seemed to sense her silent request and turned away with a quiet sigh to put away some items in the wardrobe, though she frequently glanced in Millie’s direction.
Millie opened the message with trembling fingers to see a masculine scrawl that ended with a flourish of a W at the bottom.
Winston . It had to be.
With her face heating and pulse hammering, she hurriedly read it.
Dear Millicent,
Will you meet me at the Thompson garden party tomorrow afternoon?
W
Yes! She touched a hand to her heart, hoping to calm its rapid beat. This was all incredibly exciting but nerve-racking as well. How did she reply yet keep it secret?
“Alice?”
The maid rushed over as if anxious to be of assistance—or to hear some juicy gossip. “Yes, miss?”
“If I wanted to reply to this...secret message...” Millie began.
“Why, you could write a response on that one, seal it, and I would return it to the footman, who would return it to the one who delivered it.” She brushed her hands together as if dusting them off, suggesting the process was simple. “Nothing for anyone to find and no one the wiser.”
Millie paused a moment. “I would like to do that if you would be so kind as to aid me.”
“Of course, miss.”
“But you mustn’t share a word of this with anyone.” If her parents discovered this, she couldn’t imagine the consequences.
“No, miss.” The maid’s gaze dropped to the floor before meeting hers again, her earnest expression reassuring. “You must know after all these years that you can trust me.”
“I do. Thank you, Alice.” But how did she reply? She couldn’t think with the maid watching her so closely. “If you’d give me a moment.”
“Certainly. I will advise the footman we need his services and return directly.” With a bob of her head, she hurried out the door.
Alice’s departure didn’t settle Millie’s nerves in the least. Was she proceeding in the right manner to capture Winston’s interest? Was a kiss enough of a bold move to help him see her as a potential wife?
Or was she risking ruin for nothing?
She drew a deep breath and pressed a hand against her fluttering stomach. Moving forward with care would prevent any unfortunate mishaps. She nearly rolled her eyes at the mild word. Yet the alternative—considering marriage to Viscount Dunthorpe—was unacceptable. Not when she had a chance, however slim, with Winston.
Despite her spinning emotions, she knew what she wanted—a few minutes in his company. A garden party seemed like the perfect opportunity. Surely they could find a quiet corner in which to talk—or even better, kiss. That he’d suggested the idea was a good sign.
She smiled as she penned a reply, sealed it, and waited for Alice to return. Tomorrow afternoon couldn’t come quickly enough.
A steady drizzle significantly dampened Winston’s mood the following afternoon as he stepped out of his house and into the waiting carriage. It was hardly good weather for a garden party even if rain this time of year was expected.
In his mind, he’d imagined a sunny day and warm temperatures that would allow Millicent and him to wander along the garden paths until they found a secluded hedge to linger behind. Instead, he would be forced to carry an umbrella and hope their hosts had tents set up to allow them to escape the weather, which would be far from ideal.
Still, he refused to be deterred from his goal. Weather be damned. He only hoped Millicent felt the same as he would be disappointed if she chose to remain home.
The drive to Lord and Lady Thompson’s residence, also in Mayfair, didn’t take long. Winston couldn’t resist glaring at the sky through the carriage window several times with the hope of seeing a break in the clouds to no avail.
His scowl when he alighted had the footman stiffening in concern as the servant held the carriage door. “The weather is dismal, James.”
“Indeed, it is, my lord.” The servant sent him a sympathetic look as he held out an umbrella for Winston to take. “I shall remain hopeful that it soon improves.”
“As will I.” Winston nodded. “Thank you.” He was relieved not to be the only guest climbing the stairs to the large house reputed to have an impressive garden.
Garden parties weren’t Winston’s normal choice of entertainment, but he hadn’t been able to think of a better place to meet Millicent. Riding in Hyde Park meant having groomsmen trailing behind. Meeting on Regent Street meant a maid would accompany her at the very least. Attending another ball was problematic as it would likely be a repeat of the previous one where they’d been together but not alone, with too many eyes upon them.
That would never do.
He’d been tempted to suggest they meet at Eliza’s home, but he didn’t want to involve his sister when she’d do everything possible to push them together. Pushing wasn’t part of his plan. Tempting, yes, in that he hoped to tempt Millicent into being alone with him long enough for a kiss. He still felt certain a kiss or two would allow her to fade from his thoughts.
He followed other guests through the house and out onto the two-leveled terrace on the side of the house which led to the garden where he greeted the hosts.
Winston couldn’t help but pause in appreciation at the sight of the lush greenery spread out before him, dotted with bright spring flowers, divided by hedges as well as narrow paths that enticed one to explore. Somehow, the flowers looked even more vivid in the light drizzle.
As he glanced about in admiration, he decided he should attend garden parties more often. Much more pleasurable than going to a ball. Less crowded, and no expectation to dance. Doing so caused complications as far as he was concerned. He found it easier not to dance with anyone rather than show favor to one or two ladies, which only set tongues wagging.
As expected, numerous tents had been erected for guests to linger under, the sides rolled up to allow people to view the gardens yet remain dry.
“At least it isn’t a downpour.”
Winston turned at the familiar voice to see the last person he wanted to, Viscount Dunthorpe, at his side. He frowned at the man. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Nor did I.” The viscount heaved a sigh. “My mother insisted. She says we must continue our investigation.”
“Investigation?”
“To determine who I should wed.”
“Ah, yes. I nearly forgot.” Not that Winston had, when he’d been so irritated by the man at the Hayward ball the other evening. “Who’s winning thus far?”
Dunthorpe heaved another sigh. “Impossible to say.” He met Winston’s gaze with a hopeful expression. “You spoke with Miss Davies the other night. What do you think of her?”
That you should keep your distance . He pressed his lips tight to keep the words from escaping. “I suppose she is nice enough.”
“Hmm. I don’t know whether that is an important quality.”
Winston took care to mask his disapproval. Kindness was underrated, something he’d only realized in the last year or two, but he didn’t bother to disagree. Better that Dunthorpe talk himself out of considering Millicent as a potential wife.
“She’s pleasant enough to look at, I suppose.” The words nearly stuck in Winston’s throat, as if his body protested the lie since he’d already admitted how lovely she was with those beautiful cobalt eyes he could drown in.
“Pleasant, eh?” Dunthorpe’s lips twisted. “I would prefer someone prettier.”
Winston’s hand clenched around the handle of his umbrella as the urge to punch the man took hold. If the viscount took a closer look to truly see her, he would know she was beautiful, from the inside out. That type of beauty was the kind that didn’t fade with time. But Winston wasn’t about to tell him so.
“She’s not as...curvy as I prefer, if you know what I mean,” Dunthorpe added, elbowing him as he spoke.
Winston couldn’t help but glare in return. He knew beyond a doubt that her breasts would fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, and that her slender waist and the flare of her hips were everything a man could want. Dunthorpe was obviously blind.
But this was his chance to turn the viscount away from her, at least until Winston had quenched the need to sample her charms himself. In all honesty, discouraging Dunthorpe seemed like the right thing to do for Millicent’s sake as well. She deserved a man who appreciated her attributes.
“No. Not curvy at all,” Winston agreed. There. Was that enough to have him cast his sights elsewhere? “In fact, I can think of other ladies much more attractive,” he added for good measure.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and the threat of a shiver ran along his spine. He turned to see Millicent standing behind them, a stricken look upon her face as she stared at him.
Then she turned and hurried back inside.
Millie had never wanted to escape as badly as she did at that moment. Her cheeks stung with embarrassment and tears threatened. How could she have been such a fool as to believe Winston found her attractive? Clearly this was some ill-conceived game he was playing, a continuation of the horrible wallflower wager perhaps.
Whatever it was, she wanted nothing to do with it. But as she rushed back inside the house, she realized her mother wasn’t to be seen among the nearby guests. She looked out the window to search, spotting her already under one of the tents, visiting with friends. Millie couldn’t catch her notice without walking past Winston and Viscount Dunthorpe, something she refused to do.
What a disaster!
She needed a moment to compose herself and determine what to do. She rounded a corner of the hallway with the hope of finding some privacy and pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, swallowing against the lump lodged in her throat. Should she have a message delivered to her mother, saying she’d suddenly taken ill? That was all she could think to do. And in all honesty, it wasn’t far from the truth. She felt terrible. Her stomach hurt, her heart ached, and she wanted to cry.
“Millicent?”
Winston? Oh, no. She couldn’t see him. Not now, when she was so hurt and embarrassed. Of course he didn’t find her attractive. What had she been thinking to flirt with him? To think he’d respond to her sad attempt to make a bold move? Her cheeks stung at the thought. She couldn’t let him find her.
The corridor was dark, and she eased farther into the shadows. It wasn’t as if he would search for her. He wouldn’t want to see her any more than she wanted to see him.
A few more steps revealed an open door that led to a small sitting room. She peeked in, relieved to find it empty. Surely Lady Thompson wouldn’t mind if she used it to gather her composure and determine a plan to escape.
And hope never to see Winston again.
The thought had her taking a shuddering breath as she stepped inside. She didn’t want to cry when it would only leave her face blotchy and all who saw her would know something was amiss. Her mother would be appalled if she made a spectacle of herself. Millie shut the door behind her, nearly groaning when it clicked far too loudly.
She listened for a long moment, knees weak with relief when she realized he wasn’t coming after her.
Even as his hurtful words circled in her head once again, the door opened, causing her to cry out in surprise.
“Millicent.” Winston’s eyes had never looked larger or more intense as he closed the door behind him. His gaze swept over her from head to toe, tempting her to hide behind the nearby wingback chair.
But that would never do when she’d done nothing wrong other than act a fool. She reached deep for anger, but the ethereal bit was difficult to find, too covered by hurt.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she bit out, chin lifted in defiance despite her trembling voice. “Please leave.”
“You misunderstood.” He continued forward, worry in his eyes, hands stretched toward her.
“I did not. I heard you quite clearly.” Every. Single. Word. No, she mustn’t think of them, or she would be in tears.
“I was lying.”
She scoffed. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that.”
“It’s true.” He turned aside then back again as if in search of an explanation. “That damned Dunthorpe has his eye on you.”
“Excuse me?” What did that have to do with anything?
“You are one of three ladies he’s considering as a potential wife.” He took her gloved hands in his and held tight despite her attempt to pull away. “I know it was underhanded of me, but I don’t want him near you.”
“I don’t believe you.” She couldn’t.
“It’s true, Millicent. He doesn’t deserve you. If he can’t see your admirable traits for himself, then he should look elsewhere.”
Admirable traits ? Those were hardly the sweet words of desire she hoped for. She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand even as her heart skipped a beat. But no, she still didn’t understand. More importantly, she was incredibly hurt, her heart aching.
However, she wouldn’t admit to that. All she could do was shake her head and tug at her hands again.
“You must believe me. I couldn’t resist pushing him away.” His gaze held hers as he moved even closer until the heat of his body seeped into hers. “I am sorry.”
The heartfelt words were helpful, but she didn’t believe he thought her admirable in any way. “I appreciate your apology, but I must go. Or perhaps you should.”
“Not yet. Please, Millicent.” His gaze swept over her face.
“Why do you call me that?” she whispered, body trembling.
He frowned. “Because it’s your name.”
“Everyone calls me Millie.” Did he do so to keep a formal distance between them? She managed to tug one hand free from his grasp and stepped back, only to press against the wall. How she wished he’d leave her in peace before she succumbed to his presence.
“Because you are too special to be Millie. You are unique and desirable. Special. Millicent suits you better.”
She drew a shaky breath, telling herself not to believe his sweet words or the concern in his green eyes.
“Don’t believe me?” he asked with a lift of his brow.
“No.” She bit her lip, surprised she’d told him the truth.
“You are an excellent friend, something I know from Eliza and I also saw for myself when you joined with friends to thwart the rogues and their wager. You are intelligent and clever and have a big heart. Your beauty shines from within.”
Millie caught her breath at the sincerity in his expression, and her big heart melted. Was it any wonder this man had captured her interest?
He reached to trail a single finger along her cheek and nodded. “Just as I remembered.”
She stiffened, the desire coursing through her at odds with her thoughts. “What?”
“I told myself your skin couldn’t be as soft and smooth as I thought, but it is.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and her entire body tingled in response. “I want to kiss you more than I want my next breath. Why else would I have sent you the message asking you to meet me here?”
She licked her lips, unable not to when he stared at them so. “I-I don’t b-believe you.” She didn’t dare. But oh, how she wished he meant what he’d said. How she wished she was the type of lady to stir passion in a man like him.
“Then allow me to prove it.”
Her breath halted, thoughts racing as she took in the heated look in his eyes. She no longer knew what to think. “How?”
His slow smile was enough to curl her toes, but that only proved how attractive she found him. He couldn’t possibly desire her. His body brushed against the length of her, the intimate gesture loosening liquid heat deep inside her, putting all her senses on high alert. “May I kiss you, Millicent?”
“Y-yes.” That would end this ridiculous seduction. The kiss would be over and done, and that would be that. Her bold move would be completed, and she could focus on something else.
He released her hand to hold her waist, then dipped his head until their breath mingled. His hand lifted to cradle her neck, its warmth seeping into her, causing her breasts to tighten.
Oh, dear . Perhaps this wouldn’t prove what she hoped, whatever that had been. At the moment, she couldn’t think. Not when her body felt so alive, as if it sparkled with a thousand points of light.
Then he took her mouth with his, moving slowly. The bliss that swept through her weakened her knees, though the kiss had just begun.
His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips, demanding entry. Of course, she answered. Millie might not know precisely what she was doing but intended to give as good as she got if this was to be her only kiss with Winston. She’d only briefly kissed one other man several years ago, but this was as different as night and day. Winston might only be dallying with her, but in this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was a woman of six and twenty and ready to experience passion.
He groaned, the sound reverberating through her, sending ripples of pleasure along her skin. Then he reached for her hands to lift them above her head and pressed his body against hers into the wall, from head to toe, the intimacy stealing her breath and making it impossible to think.
Somehow, the position left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. And it pushed her breasts against his hard chest. She felt his hips shift against her belly, and she could no longer deny that he desired her.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting against hers until a throbbing in her very center echoed the beat.
“Millicent,” he murmured, kissing along her cheek, then her jaw, and down her neck. Her breasts tightened as passion took an even firmer hold. “I want you.”
“Yes.” She tugged a hand free to guide him toward her for another kiss, never wanting the moment to end.
Only when he broke the kiss to look into her eyes, passion darkening the jade green to emerald, did she realize what she’d said.
Every inch of her wanted him, and she ached with need. But not unless he wed her. Marriage was the only option for her. She wanted a husband and hoped it could be Winston. “I-I mean no.”
He frowned. “No?”
“No...thank you?” Did one need to be polite when refusing? She had no idea. She blinked to clear her befuddled thoughts. “I- I mean I w-want you, as well.” Admitting that aloud made it all the more real. “But I am looking for a husband. Not a lover.”
Winston’s lips twisted. Not quite a scowl, but certainly not a smile. “I am not that man, Millicent.”
Disappointment speared through her after what they’d just shared. Yet she was woman enough to know he desired her.
“You don’t intend to marry?” she asked.
He was a marquess and one of his primary duties was to provide an heir. Though she’d known he was in no hurry to do so from what Eliza had said, what had risen between them surely meant something.
“Not a moment before I must. Perhaps in another ten years or so.”
Ten ? Hurt returned, and she dropped her gaze. “I see.” The urge to weep once again took hold, but this time for a different reason.
He placed a finger beneath her chin until she met his gaze, then offered a half-smile. “However, I would be pleased to share a few more kisses with you. We could explore a little of the passion we share if you’d allow it.”
Explore their passion? Her mouth went dry at what that might mean.
“Think of it as practice.” He released her and eased away, leaving her suddenly chilled. “I promise it would be pleasurable for both of us.”
Then with a dip of his head and a smoldering look, he departed and closed the door behind him.
Millie tipped her head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling, wondering what on earth she was to do now.