Chapter Four #4
Because social custom dictated that she do so, she returned his smile. One did not purposefully offend a man like Willard. Though she objected to his use of rare. “I’ve pluck to the backbone. Or so Mr. Winter used to say.”
“And who is Mr. Winter?” His voice went low. “I like to know my rivals.”
Rivals? “You do say the most outrageous things, Lord Willard.” She frowned. “Why do I suspect you are doing so to unsettle and upset me?”
“Pluck and a penchant for plain speaking, too—truly a product of the enlightened age.” He was still smiling, but a hint of disapproval had crept into his eyes.
“In this case, however, you are only partially correct. I’ve no wish to upset you.
Unsettle, though—ah, that may well be a different story. ”
Millie flinched as he touched her face a second time.
“As I said, your beauty has a strange effect on me, Miss Millicent.” Again, his voice went warm. “In your presence, I completely forget my manners.”
Not every manner, she hoped.
“I beg you to put my mind at ease.” Now, his voice was silk. “Is this Mr. Winter a rival?”
“No,” she found herself replying honestly. His eyes really were quite dazzling. “Mr. Winter is the gamekeeper at Willowhurst. Or, at least, he was when we lived there. He may have been pensioned by the new owner. We sold our family home after my father passed.”
And now she was babbling. What was wrong with her?
“May I confide my relief?” he asked, quite softly.
Confide?
The word felt intimate. Without meaning to do so, she leaned forward.
Then, a sudden gush of cold air brought her back to her senses. She blinked and shook her head, glancing with alarm toward her sister’s house. The footman’s scowl was fixed on Willard.
Willard followed her gaze. “Ah.”
“Ah,” she repeated. Grateful he’d noticed. Grateful, now too, that Cassie had taken the previously unwelcome precaution.
“I had thought coming upon you alone an opportunity too good to be true.”
Her lips turned down. Why would he want to come upon her alone?
“Why, indeed?” he asked softly.
“To what question are you replying?”
“I’m afraid, my sweet, you have a very readable face.”
His sweet? “Do you think so? I’m not sure how you could know. Perhaps you may be reading me wrong.”
“Possible, I suppose,” he agreed. “I have heard there are men who can smile and smile and still be villains.” His smile broadened. “I assure you, I am not one of those.”
Odd, how he had unwittingly echoed Lenora’s description. She too had used the phrase. What had she said? All-the-while smiling, smiling, and smiling. Why did the repetition seem familiar?
“Hamlet,” she murmured, suddenly placing the quote.
“Correct,” he replied. “Tell me”—he squinted off into the street—“are your tastes literary, or does your knowledge of the bard betray a theatrical interest?”
“Both,” she answered, relieved to be on more familiar conversational ground.
“I have boxes at both Royal theaters, you know.”
“Oh? Do you attend often?”
“As a matter of fact, I intend to escort my mother to the Theater Royal in Covent Garden this evening. Shakespeare, too.” He studied her for a long moment. “Perhaps our unlikely encounter this afternoon is providential. Might you wish to join me?”
She hadn’t anticipated his question.
Then again, should she have? Any true gentleman should know that extending an invitation to a young lady without consulting her guardian first was wrong.
“Yes.” He smiled again. “I should have approached your guardian first. As a matter of fact, I have just come from an attempt to do so. When I couldn’t find him, I sought you out.”
“But you said you were surprised to find me alone.”
He cocked his head and blinked. “And so I was, especially since I had just been on an errand that concerned you.”
“Have you just come from the Albany, then?” Asquith had yet to give up what his mother derisively referred to as his Buck Abode.
“The Albany… Yes.”
Lord Willard hadn’t come from the direction of the Albany, though. Then again, he could have taken the long way around. “Do you know Lord Asquith well enough to call on him, then?”
“Why, yes,” he replied.
He searched her face, looking deeply into her eyes. She swayed in response, and he steadied her with a firm hand in a warm glove.
Animal Magnetism, indeed.
“Ever since he was my—” He cleared his throat. “He was but a mere pup back in school.”
“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t know. Then again, I wouldn’t. My conversations with Asquith tend to center either on my sisters or on his horses.”
Willard nodded. “He does love his horseflesh.”
“Yes, he does.” Hesitantly, she shared his knowing smile.
Lenora had suggested Asquith didn’t like Willard. But she’d done so based only on a nod. Clearly, she must have been wrong.
Neville was the only one who didn’t like him. He’s not what people generally believe.
Both last night and this morning, Lord Willard had been affable, if somewhat intense. More affable than Neville, in any case.
And even though Cassie had treated with disbelief the idea that Neville could hate anyone, Millie was sure Neville would dislike anyone as forward and frank in their manner as Lord Willard.
Neville was just too proper for his own good.
“There is something special about a long acquaintance.” Lord Willard’s eyes had a far-away look. “Don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she replied. “My sisters and the Asquith family are my only connections of length.”
“Ah,” he made a sympathetic sound. “Quite lonely, that sounds.”
“We entertained ourselves.”
“I’m glad.”
She could see the whites both above and below his irises. Was that normal?
“There is something even more special about new acquaintances.”
“Yes,” she found herself in complete agreement. Willard was certainly unique…
“May I have your answer about the theater? I confess, I am in terrible suspense.”
His hopeful expression made her soften. “I wish I could. But I’m afraid I cannot oblige.”
Something dark passed over his face. Or perhaps a cloud had briefly concealed the sun? She wasn’t entirely certain.
“I’d need permission,” she explained. “And to be accompanied by at least one of my many chaperones. But Lady Asquith, the duchess, and the marchioness are all to attend a discussion hosted by Mrs. Vane this evening.”
His lips pinched. “Not political, I hope?”
She shrugged. “All I know is that unmarried ladies are not invited.”
“I see,” he said at length. “A happy coincidence, perhaps? Didn’t I mention my mother is to attend as well? I’m sure she would be happy to serve as your chaperone.”
“Oh?” She exhaled, relieved. His invitation could not be so improper if his mother were to attend, too!
“I know I’m being unforgivably forward,” he continued. “But rules can be so very tiresome. We are of like mind in that regard, are we not? You’ve such an admirably independent spirit.”
Shyly, she smiled back. “We are indeed.”
“I thought you might be eager for a night away from all your sisters. Was I wrong?”
“No,” she replied carefully. A night out, one not surrounded by family? Surely, she need not decline, simply because the way he asked her would not pass the strictest of tests? “Thank you for your kind invitation. I will accept, provided Lady Redver consents.”
His eyes twinkled. “I have full faith in your persuasive abilities.” He bowed again. “And now, I’ll bid you a proper farewell.”
She offered her hand. He grasped her fingers in a grip so strong she couldn’t have freed herself had she wished.
Did she wish?
She watched, fascinated into stillness. He lowered his lips until they met the back of her lifted glove with such warmth, they burned through the kidskin…
“Until tonight,” he said.
He continued walking in the other direction. He was—she tilted her head—whistling. She listened until she recognized an old children’s song. A nursery rhyme? Surely not!
A powerful young gentleman wasn’t likely to be singing such a thing.
If he had been, however…
How sweet.
She looked down at her hand, curious as to why his kiss still burned.
She rubbed at the spot, unsure if she was attempting to catch the warmth of his lips, or trying, instead, to wipe the lingering sensation of them away.
Either way, she must prepare for an unexpected adventure. And she’d have more than a little convincing to do if she wanted Eliza to agree to the scheme. Best not to tell Cassie of the encounter at all, just in case Neville had warned Harbury against Willard.
Just then, Adrian and his curricle rounded the corner.
Ah, yes, Adrian!
There’s where she would begin her campaign.