18. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
“ L inford.” The Marquess of Montfort and Captain Shaw greeted Winston at the club the following afternoon.
He had forced himself to leave the house for fear the staff would stage a mutiny because of his ongoing poor mood and had been nursing a drink in a dark corner for the past half hour.
“And to you.” Winston nodded but didn’t invite the pair to join him. Better that he kept to himself rather than risk offending his friends. He smothered a groan when they didn’t wait for an invitation but pulled out chairs to sit.
“Yes, yes. Please join me,” Winston muttered, unable to keep from scowling.
“Our pleasure.” Montfort signaled to a waiter. “Glad we could ruin your plan for a solitary sulk.”
Before he could respond, Trentworth and Garland entered the club and strode directly toward them, followed by Bolton and Sinclair, all pulling up chairs to settle at the table, which was far too small for so many. That didn’t stop them.
Only a few other gentlemen were in the bar, the club relatively quiet until now. Winston bit back an oath and shifted to one side to make room for everyone. To his shock, Winstead and Roth also joined them.
Winston glared as he looked around the crowded table, waiting with impatience as more drinks were ordered. To his recollection, this particular group of men had never met like this except for at a dinner party with the ladies in attendance. “To what do I owe the honor of this gathering?” Then he held up a hand as he looked at each of them. “Wait—do the husbands of The Mayfair Literary League have a secret club that I don’t know about?”
Viscount Winstead shook his head. “For your information, Prue isn’t a league member.”
“I’m certain that could be rectified,” the Earl of Bolton suggested.
“We haven’t yet formed an official association, but it’s a fine idea.” Trentworth glanced at the other men with a lifted brow.
“It is indeed,” Bolton agreed. “The ladies have become a family of sorts. That applies to us by extension. And I think we are all willing to do whatever it takes to keep the members of our found family happy.”
“Absolutely.” Trentworth nodded. “Are we all in agreement?”
“Yes,” they said in unison, displaying the sort of self-satisfied grins that Winston longed to knock off their faces.
He heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Not all of you are members in this club either.”
“No,” agreed Roth, the barrister he’d met at one of the dinner parties who’d married a league member, though Winston couldn’t recall her name. “But His Grace was able to convince them to bend the rules.”
“Of course, he was.” Winston glared at Trentworth even as a trickle of warmth ran through him. “What is the occasion? Another baby on the way?” He looked at the Earl of Bolton, a relatively new father, who in turn pointed at Captain Shaw, the author.
“Yes.” Shaw nodded, his grin saying everything about his happiness. “Tibby is expecting, but that’s not why we are here.”
“Then what?” Winston asked, becoming more and more uncomfortable at the way everyone stared like they expected something from him. They need only call on his steward to confirm how quickly that path led to disappointment.
“It has come to our attention that your...affections may have been caught by a certain lady.” Montfort lifted a brow as if to dare him to disagree. “Garland and I noted it at the ball the other night.”
“As you already know, Eliza and I are also aware of your interest,” Trentworth added. “Though you are clearly reluctant to admit it.”
Winston felt a cold sweat form along his brow. Memories of being called to his father’s study to hear what a disappointment he was filled him. The urge to run rather than listen to what his friends had to say made drawing a proper breath nearly impossible. “I don’t know of what you are speaking.”
“We think you do, my lord.” Roth’s steely gaze surely made lying difficult for clients or witnesses. “But we are here to tell you that you are among friends. We know it is...disconcerting to experience. Painful, even. I believe I can say that on behalf of all of us. But we want you to know that is normal. All is well.”
Winston scoffed. He felt anything but ‘well’.
“You will feel much improved once you admit your feelings,” Shaw suggested. “First to yourself and then to the lady in question.”
“You have it wrong,” Winston argued, though the protest sounded weak even to his own ears.
“I don’t think so.” Garland shook his head. “Chances are you feel as if you don’t deserve her love. Perhaps you think she would be better off without you. Doubt has been part of the process for many of us.”
His friends murmured their agreement.
“Love might be worrisome, but you will soon come to see that living without her is even more so.” Sinclair’s expression was sympathetic rather than judgmental. “Take it from us.”
Winston’s heart leapt even without the mention of Millicent’s name. The word ‘her’ rang through his mind like a bell, clanging again and again as the other men nodded, conversation pausing as their drinks were served.
He took the momentary reprieve to gather his thoughts, hardly able to believe they would confront him, shoulder-to-shoulder, like this. Yet under his frustration, he was deeply touched. The warm feeling slowly seeped through him. To think they cared enough to unite in an effort to help him was surprising, especially when he didn’t deserve it.
To know he wasn’t alone loosened a knot deep inside him. And to learn he wasn’t the only one who had doubts doubled the freeing sensation. Could they be right? Was it love he felt for Millicent? An even more important question was whether she could possibly love him in return?
Snippets of his parents’ heated arguments echoed in his mind, and he closed his eyes in an effort to shut them out. He couldn’t bear it if he subjected Millicent to that. Fear took hold as he opened his eyes.
No. He couldn’t—
“Do you love her?” Trentworth demanded as if once again able to read his mind.
Winston shifted in his chair, panic digging in its sharp talons. “I don’t know. It’s impossible to say. What is love anyway?” Admitting it to his friends meant he could no longer ignore it.
“When you see yourself a decade from now, can you imagine life without her?” Garland asked.
“How do you feel at the idea of her marrying another?” Roth added.
“Or her in someone else’s arms?”
“What if you were never able to see her again?”
The questions continued until Winston’s thoughts spun. He held up a hand to halt them. “I see your point.”
“And?” Trentworth narrowed his eyes. “What do you intend to do about it?”
“Action at this stage is vital,” Sinclair added. “Even if you don’t feel ready.” He glanced around the table. “I don’t think any of us did.”
Again, his friends nodded.
Winston cleared his throat, barely able to resist pressing a hand to his thundering heart. How could he deny the way he felt? It seemed he did love her, but how did he proceed? “You have given me much to think about.”
Trentworth’s lips twisted in obvious frustration. “That’s not enough. You must act or risk losing lose her forever.”
The quiet declaration shoved Winston off the precarious ledge on which he’d been balancing for far too long. Only now did he realize that taking no action was a decision in itself.
Was doing nothing any better than doing the wrong thing?
He was weary of waiting to see what fate had in store. The time had come to wield his will and make a choice. Perhaps several. He didn’t want to continue drifting through life. If he was going to be worthy of Millicent, he couldn’t allow the past to run roughshod over his future. She deserved more and so did he.
Though his mouth was dry, and nerves gripped his stomach, he met the gaze of each of the men. “Very well. I welcome suggestions as to how to convince Millicent she can’t live without me.”
Everyone began talking at once.
Millie’s steps slowed as she and Alice walked into the lending library to meet Frances. The sight of the literary league members, including Prue, gathered at a table gave her pause. She left Alice near the door and joined them, her gaze landing on Frances.
“Surprise,” her friend said with a cautious smile.
“What is this?” Millie asked as she sank into the single open chair in the middle of the long table.
Phoebe, who sat beside her, tapped Millie’s arm. “I called an emergency league meeting.”
“Why?” Her face heated as they all watched her.
“To lend our aid.” Tibby, who sat on her other side, briefly placed a hand on Millie’s shoulder.
She glanced around the library, unsurprised to find several other patrons watching them. Luckily, the place wasn’t overly crowded, allowing them a small measure of privacy. The hum of quiet conversations throughout the space helped.
“Oh?” Millie could hazard a guess as to what they wanted to assist her with. But she didn’t see how anything she did could make a difference in the situation with Winston. She’d done all she could.
“I realize the evening of the musicale didn’t end the way you’d hoped.” The sympathy in Prue’s expression had Millie drawing a deep breath. “We wonder if perhaps that needn’t be the end of it.”
“I think it must.” Millie lifted her chin. “I have gone over and over the events of the past few weeks, including my actions. I made it clear how much I...care for him.” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name or the word love aloud.
The thought of Winston had her stealing a glance at Eliza, braced to see disapproval on her friend’s face. Instead, she saw only hope and support.
“Eliza,” she began, wanting to apologize for keeping her feelings a secret.
“Millie, I am so sorry,” the other woman interrupted. “I wanted to protect you from my brother, but I’m afraid all I did was get in the way. Please know I would be delighted if I were lucky enough to have you for a sister.”
Millie’s stomach dipped at the thought, but she quickly shook her head. “That’s improbable. Impossible. Thank you all the same.”
“You seemed so defeated yesterday when you came by,” Phoebe said. “I don’t know if there is anything we can do, but...”
“At the very least, we can lend you support and make sure you know that we are here for you in every way,” Rebecca Roth added as she shared a look with Phoebe. “Please know that each of us understands how you feel.”
“Are you quite certain that there’s nothing to be done?” Winifred asked. “If we cornered him and had a word, perhaps—”
“No.” Millie shook her head, too easily able to imagine how that would make Winston feel. “It’s not him.” She halted, unable to say the rest when she knew it would make her cry. She’d shed more tears in the past few days than she had in her entire life.
He didn’t want her. Didn’t love her. That was something her heart still couldn’t grasp.
Tibby heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I’m sorry, but I am very unhappy with him right now.” She looked around the table. “How can he not see how wonderful Millie is, the way we do?”
Millie huffed a breath and shook her head. She was anything but wonderful. “We all have our faults.”
“Millie Davies.” The firm but quiet tone had Millie looking at her cousin. “You are perfect just as you are. You are enough. You are deserving of love, as we all are.” Prue said each statement with confidence and a fire in her eyes that touched Millie to her soul.
“Absolutely.”
“Agreed.”
“So true.”
Was it true? Was she enough? The situation wasn’t Winston’s fault, but what if it wasn’t hers either? If she’d done all she could to help him see the real her, then she should release the feeling of being less.
“You are worthy.” Tibby once again put her arm around her shoulder. “We adore you, and more than anything else, we want you to know that.”
Millie breathed in the words and slowly nodded. “Thank you. That means so much to me.” She touched a hand to her heart. “It helps more than you know.”
“I’m pleased.” Phoebe nodded. “You are a treasure to us all.”
Millie couldn’t help but smile, feeling her mood lighten for the first time since the musicale. “As is our friendship. Thank you. I adore you all.”
Was there anything more she could do to show Winston her true self? Had she tried too hard to be different, to be bold, only to have her attempts push him away? She didn’t know for sure, but if she had the chance to speak with him again without trying to be someone she wasn’t, she would do exactly that.
She would be regular Millie, but perhaps the best version of herself. The one who was kind, thoughtful, and liked to read. The one who was worthy of love, regardless of whether she had it.
By the time she departed a half hour later, Millie wore a smile and had a lighter step.
“Your friends helped you feel better, miss?” Alice asked with a hopeful look.
“Yes, they certainly did.” Once again, the ladies of the league had proven invaluable. Thank goodness she had such dear friends.
She drew a deep breath. No longer would she see herself as unworthy or undeserving. Doing so prevented others from believing any differently. The time had come to be the person her friends thought her to be. To expect better from herself and others, including Winston. If he didn’t return her feelings, then he didn’t deserve her.
Whether anything would come from her pursuit of him remained to be seen, but she had amazing friends to support her. For now, that was enough.