Chapter One
Millie
“You’re not leaving already, are you, Millie?” But it was clear that she was in fact leaving because the very feet that were the only means of transporting her out of the ballroom were already on the move.
“I-I just… You know me, Dolly.” Millie fumbled over the words, clinging desperately to the book in her hand. “I have to get some air. I’m not used to this.”
“But we’re in the country.”
“I know.” She squeezed her fingers more tightly around the book, while her other hand gripped the small candle in her pocket.
“But it’s a ball. I don’t even know the host, and I’ve been here long enough.
” Haven’t I? she almost asked, but she refrained in order to appear more confident in her decision.
“It’s dark outside. You can’t possibly read out there—”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in…” Well, now…she really couldn’t accurately estimate that. “Soon.”
“I’m coming after you if I don’t see you in thirty minutes.” Dolly’s blue eyes, which matched Millie’s, closer to a sister’s resemblance than that of a cousin, shone with affection. And concern. It was the concern that Millie shook off.
“Yes, Mother.” A smile played at the corner of Millie’s lips.
“I’m not your mother. Your mother would be telling you to enjoy this vacation, this respite of sorts.
Considering everything that’s going on with you and your father…
sometimes it’s good to get away for a while.
Lord knows you have enough stress on you, Millie.
I don’t know how you do it.” Dolly’s eyes dropped to where her hands smoothed her skirts.
No one wanted to address the real issue.
“Just ask Goldie, and I’m sure she would agree.
” Certainly, their cousin would agree, but that wasn’t the point.
“I don’t need to be away from my family.
” I need to be with them. But if they didn’t see it that way, the next best place to be was in a book.
Her feet obviously agreed, as they were already taking the lead on inching her back out the terrace and down the steps.
Yes, it was stressful to be in the position that she was, but she didn’t begrudge them.
She didn’t resent them. She cared. And she couldn’t understand why her mother had sent her away in the height of it all.
Dolly gave a small sigh. “I’m coming for you—”
“I know. In thirty minutes.”
Before Dolly could say anything more, and before their cousin Goldie could catch her, Millie dashed out of the ballroom and into the crisp, cool air of the evening.
The ballroom had been stifling. Life itself had been stifling of late.
She just needed something fresh to pull her out of this haze.
And her brand-new lurid novel was just the thing.
It was both an escape and an inspiration for future efforts.
But she didn’t want to think about that right now. The escape was all she needed.
Not wanting to go too far into the darkness and into the night, she ducked around the bottom of the stairs and rested her back against the stone wall tucked cozily beside some bushes.
There was still light flooding from the ballroom, so she didn’t even need her candle.
Instead, she dropped her head back against the cool stone, took a breath, then removed her book from her pocket and began to read.
Her cousin Dolly was lovely. Always looking out for her.
But since she had found love, even at her spinster age, she had revived the possibility of the dream for Millie to find love too.
Which in reality was impossible. At least Dolly was pretty.
Millie was just…average. Pretty could still attract a husband.
Pretty could lead to love. Average would always lead to convenience.
And that was something Millie never aspired to have.
She could make it on her own (with the work she was doing in secret), rather than be tied down to someone and considered their possession.
Words read but not comprehended were a blur until she stilled her mind and started again. Her book was her happy place. No interruptions. Just—
Voices spilled out onto the terrace.
Well, in hindsight, this really was not a good place to read in private.
She couldn’t very well leave. Someone might see her.
It would not do to start this house party with another heap of gossip over her head.
She had amassed her fair share. Incredulously, she had already heard some whispering about her being some kind of husband hunter. At her age, the idea was preposterous.
A man’s voice, sounding tense, rang through the air. In response, a mature woman filled the gaps. Though it might be more accurate to say the woman was leading the conversation, given the slight exasperation Millie detected in the man’s voice.
The words were all muffled. Not that she cared to eavesdrop.
Perhaps this wasn’t so bad. If they didn’t bother her, she wouldn’t bother them.
Easy.
So easy, in fact, that she continued reading. This time, drowning out the voices somehow helped her concentrate. It was as though the man’s voice had a soothing quality to it.
Lost in her story about a knight saving a princess, Millie was mid-page flip when the man’s voice from the terrace grew louder.
He must have been making his way to the balustrade above her. Taking heed, she retreated back until her entire body was flush against the wall and her book was pressed against her chest.
So much for reading.
Perhaps a short eavesdropping session was inevitable.
“Here, Marlowe. Have a drink and calm yourself, will you?” the woman offered.
“I am calm. I’m not worried about a thing. It’s you who needs the drink.”
“Do as your mother says for once. Take the drink, Marlowe.”
Millie could hear a ruffling, like a hem on the flagstones.
She could also sense a spicy scent wafting through the air.
It tickled. Not her nose, but somewhere inside of her.
Like it was provoking some kind of reaction from her.
Scent was funny that way. She often felt like a particular scent could draw her back to a very specific time and place.
And it was almost as if this spicy, masculine scent had just imprinted itself on her brain.
But just then, a very—extremely, one might say—unpredictable series of events occurred. And they happened so fast that Millie had no time to react. She blamed her brain for being so taken in by his scent.
“What is this?” the man spat.
That was the first sign.
“I can’t drink this.”
That was the second sign.
“No one should be imbibing this.”
And then—
Splash.
The fresh, cool liquid dashed against the top of her head.
And she couldn’t help it, really, much as she tried.
She let out—as stifled as she could—a high-pitched, “Eep!”