Chapter Twelve #2
He’d guessed Willard’s public outburst would anger Eltenham, but he’d never considered how Eltenham would feel about Lady Eltenham’s drugging.
Eltenham and Willard were cut from a different cloth. While Neville thought of values as a fact, an unchanging system that held one together, to men like them, being utterly unscrupulous was a God-given right, while being exposed to social disgrace was intolerable.
“Mother, if he was told of his son’s perfidy, do you think Eltenham would call Willard to heel?”
“That depends.” She thought for a moment. “How many people noticed Lady Eltenham’s state?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Those of us who spoke directly with her were chiefly concerned with covering for Millicent and not inclined to spread tales that might contradict our story. Willard’s cronies are sure to have guessed, though.
And if Lady Eltenham spoke to anyone else after one of those lads escorted her out to the lounge, there may be other witnesses… ”
Widespread knowledge of Lady Eltenham’s condition last night would hurt as much as it would help. Then again, Millicent and he would be wedded by this afternoon; that ought to cause more talk and speculation than a night at the theater!
“Mother, can you find out how widespread any gossip about Willard, Lady Eltenham, and Millicent has become?”
“I can, although everyone I talked to this morning was far too concerned about Harbury’s illness to talk about anything else.” She looked away for a moment. “I will pay Lady Eltenham a call tomorrow. Straight to the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
His chest seized, but instead of giving in to the urge to forbid her, he said carefully, “I would not want you to put yourself in any danger.”
“Oh, I won’t be in danger,” she scoffed. “I don’t know if she will be home to me, of course. But your father and I dined with them on several occasions. Since your father passed, I’ve seen little of either. Brighton is not at all fashionable enough for them.”
“What else have you heard?”
“I think I recall hearing something about her not being in Society too much anymore, as she’s taken her brother’s passing quite hard.”
“Call if you’d like, then, but do be discreet—especially if Lord Willard is present.”
“He won’t be,” she replied confidently. “I distinctly remember someone saying Willard was sure to have all the details about what happened last night, as he was at the theater. Then someone else answered back that Willard could not be consulted because he had left London this morning.”
“Willard? Left town?” Neville frowned. “That is odd.”
“Not if he wanted to avoid his father’s censure.”
“Possible…”
“You know,” his mother chided, “you could have saved me a lot of trouble if you’d just told me the whole story last night.”
“Ah, but last night, I only knew half a story. I didn’t know Millicent would say yes.”
“Oh, I hope you are doing the right thing.”
“I am.” He was certain. “Come with me to Harbury House, meet her, and see for yourself.”
“But the knocker’s been removed. They are not taking visitors.”
“Clearly, they must let me back in, else I’ll miss my own wedding. We’ll be discreet. I will take you in through the back gate.”
“Oh!” She smiled fondly. “I haven’t gone in that way since I was a little girl. But are you sure I won’t be in the way?”
“In the way?”
She raised her brows. “I have often felt as if I was.”
“I will endeavor to change that,” he said sincerely. “I’d like to have you as one of my witnesses.”
“Thank you, dearest. Is a half hour sufficient?”
“The sooner the better,” he replied.
And for several reasons he most certainly did not want to discuss with his mother.
*
“Ouch!” Millie turned away from the mirror. She glared at Cassie. “Haven’t I enough wedding day worries without you harrying me with hairpins?”
“I’m sorry.” Cassie’s half-smile was bemused. “You’d think I’d be forgiven for using a touch too much zest to jam in your pins. My husband is languishing at death’s door, after all. And, I might add, all on your behalf.”
“And he’s having a great deal of fun at playacting illness, too.”
“Isn’t he just?” Cassie glanced heavenward. “But he is stuck in his bedchamber for the next few days. His valet is already suffering from the greatest ennui. Marsden had been thrilled to be back in London where he could let his talents shine.”
Millie turned sheepish. “I am aware I’ve turned your whole household upside-down. And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am terribly nervous. Or excited. I’m not sure which.”
“I know you are, and I know you don’t,” Cassie replied. “Now stand still and let me make you pretty for your handsome bridegroom.”
“Relieve me of my scalp, more like.”
Did Cassie find Neville handsome, too? How many other women did?
Oh, bother.
How could she possibly stand still? She was about to get married. And to Neville.
Between last night’s steamy exchange with her betrothed and Eliza’s vivid description of the marriage bed, her dreams had left her aching and cranky and above all, curious.
But plague take him, Neville had greeted her as cooly as you please this morning. In fact, other than looking slightly rumpled, he hadn’t shown even a hint of the passionate lover he’d been.
Instead, throughout the settlement discussions—which had been rather quick, as Millie had investments but no property—he’d been civil, conscientious, and careful.
His solicitude for her was the only thing that prevented her from believing he’d gone back to being the dull stick she’d once thought him.
And, as Cassie had reminded her, women were not usually present for these conversations.
That he’d included her was a sign of his deep respect.
He’d fetched her the most comfortable chair and then drew another one up by her side.
Together, with Asquith, they’d gone through the papers, clause by clause, until each was written to her satisfaction.
Her dowry was to remain invested, with the interest entirely at her disposal, and the principal going to their second and third children.
Thoughtful, yes. Generous, absolutely. But while they’d had their heads so close together, couldn’t he have at least touched her knee beneath the table?
A slow smile spread her lips. Fortunately, she’d thought of an excellent way to provoke him this afternoon.
“You’ve made an excellent choice for yourself.” Cassie twirled a lock of Millie’s hair. “I cannot believe how much Neville accomplished in the space of a few hours.”
“I can.” Millie glanced over. “Last night, he displayed an urgent nuptial need.”
“Millie!” Cassie pretended shock as she picked up more pins. “And you acted so very coy when I suggested you might nocturnally wander!” Cassie placed the pins in her mouth so she could make use of her hands.
“Not because I’m prudish! But because you were the one doing the suggesting. If you want to know—”
“I don’t,” Cassie interrupted, speaking around the pins.
“Oh, don’t be so old fashioned. Nothing too scandalous happened. But only because Neville refused, as he put it”—she lowered her voice to mimic his—“to deflower me on the ducal floor.”
Despite herself, Cassie erupted into giggles, causing the pins to clink their way down to the floor. “For shame, Millicent Wainwright! Now, look what you’ve made me do!”
“You’ve already put enough metal in my hair to bend a compass needle,” Millie replied. “I might need one later, too, as my future husband is, apparently, very particular in what he will and will not do, depending on where we happen to be located.”
Then again…
I’ll have you know, I would happily satisfy you in every room in every house I own.
Ah, to be satisfied. She sighed. And with him happily applying himself, too!
The amorous beast she’d glimpsed beneath his cool exterior was still present, she was sure.
Cassie passed a critical eye over her coiffure. “I suppose that will suffice.”
“He’s only going to take them all out later.”
“Millicent!”
“Oh, stop sounding so shocked. I hear Harbury likes to brush your hair as prelude to the—” She recreated Emily’s kissing noises.
“I beg your pardon! Where did you—” She stopped herself, stunned. “Nettie!” she expelled their youngest sister’s name with derisive censure.
“Don’t worry, she only told me.” Millie cast her eyes innocently upward. “And Lenora. Oh, and Emily, too.”
Cassie groaned. “Why didn’t she just print a handbill and tack it up all over London?”
“Do you like when he brushes your hair?”
“Yes.” Cassie glanced askance. “And I’ve grown to like what usually follows. But I will kindly ask you to keep all this to yourself. Men can be quite sensitive about their…quirks.”
Millie considered this. Neville, she imagined, would be mortified if she told Cassie what he’d said about the licking. And the stripping her bare. And the every room in every house.
“Neville has quirks, too.”
“I don’t doubt he does,” Cassie said with a knowing glance. “It’s been torturous watching the poor man struggle to contain himself around you.”
Millie’s eyes widened. “Since when?”
“Since that first dinner at Lady Asquith’s.”
“What?”
“You know. He was practically tripping over himself to get your attention.”
“I didn’t know!” Millie put her hands on her hips. “Why did everyone but me see how he really felt about me? I heard only the complaints.”
“Complaints that only started after you gave him that dressing down. And in front of Asquith, too.” Cassie pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Men have their pride, too, you know.”
She’d been so angry at his presumption, she’d never actually considered that what she’d said to him might have hurt him. She could only hope they wouldn’t continue to set accidental traps for one another.
“Speaking of quirks,” Cassie continued carefully, “is there anything about the wedding night you would like me to explain to you?”
Oh, heavens, no. Not Puritanical Cassie! “Don’t worry,” she quickly assured her eldest sister. “Before Eliza left last night, she and I had a chat.”
Cassie frowned. “I don’t remember the two of you going off together.”
“You’d left to get me another blanket.”