Chapter Ten #2
“I don’t think I can rest.”
“Because of me?”
“No.” Her features twisted with disgust. “Because I know he is out there. I had thought myself the only one Willard hated, but…”
Her voice trailed, and she looked up at him with an expression he’d never seen before.
“Asquith just told me about what happened to him in school,” she explained. “About what you did for him.”
He didn’t feel comfortable accepting praise for what he’d done in the furtherance of justice. Aggressors won, unless one proved equal or of greater strength.
“In the end, Asquith protected himself.”
“Asquith spoke only of the past in relation to Willard.” Her gaze locked on his. “But Harbury mentioned that you came to him with what he called a concern, present tense. Is there something you have not told me?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But not only you. Asquith doesn’t know. And Harbury wouldn’t know, either, if my uncle hadn’t forced my hand.”
“Will you tell me?”
Her question felt like a test. If so, she’d chosen a good one.
After all, for months, he’d distanced himself from his own mother over the issue, thinking such things should not be a lady’s concern. Clearly, he’d been wrong not to involve her from the start. She’d accomplished in a fortnight what he’d been unable to do in six months—find Temperence.
A mother, even a wife, was not, as his father had suggested, merely something acquired, protected, and put on display.
His mother had brought him crucial information he hadn’t been able to find on his own. And he never would have gotten Millie out of the theater without Sarah’s clever intervention, and Millie’s own courage.
“I trust you, Millie.” As he said the words, he realized how deeply they were true. The one thing Millie had always been unafraid to tell him, if not the truth, then exactly what she thought of him.
And if Millie agreed to become his wife, he wasn’t just taking on her concerns; she would be taking on his. Why had he not seen the parallel before?
He made his decision. He would tell her everything. “Do you remember meeting my brother John at Harbury’s wedding?”
“Yes,” she replied carefully. “He’s a young man, right? A late child.”
Neville nodded. “The same age as Nettie.”
“I remember thinking he was gallant.” Millie bit her lip, remembering. “Gallant and kind.”
Neville smiled wryly. “You can’t begin to know how deeply he embodies both of those qualities.” His smile disappeared. “Qualities Willard used to lure him into a trap. Per my instruction, he’s been a fugitive ever since.”
“Neville! How horrible!” She took a step closer. “When did this happen?”
“Last summer.” He studied her face. He needed to be truthful, but he did not need to burden her with the knowledge he’d been chasing her to Ravenswood when John fell into trouble. “I’ve kept John hidden away at my uncle’s vicarage while I sought to clear his name.”
“All this time?” She looked bewildered.
“All this time,” he confirmed. “It’s why I wasn’t around during the little season.”
“I thought you were avoiding me.” Her shoulders dropped. “I had no idea you were suffering.”
“I didn’t want you to know.” He ran his hand through his hair.
“I didn’t want anyone to know.” Pride. “Last night, I was at the theater so a witness—the woman you saw—could identify Willard. And I just found out that my mother located the young woman who made false accusations against John at Willard’s behest.”
“I’m glad you were there,” she said.
Her gentle admission reignited hope.
Then, she added, “You enlisted your mother to help?”
Her surprise indicated how well she knew him.
“I wish I had,” he answered wryly. “But no, that was John’s doing, not mine.”
“Ah.”
“Ah,” he repeated, with a self-depreciating smile. “For what it’s worth, I now see the error of my ways.”
“Well,” she said in a soothing tone, “accepting help is hard. Tonight has been excruciating for me. So many people lying, strategizing, organizing quite literally behind the scenes.” She shook her head. “And all to save me from myself.”
“I would hate to have so many interfere with my life,” he offered.
“Thank you.” She sighed deeply. “And I must admit that, without your help tonight, I don’t know where I’d be.”
“Without my stride across Almack’s, Willard may not have made you his target.”
“Even if that’s so, I went along with his suggestions, even when I knew they were wrong.” She studied his face. “Have you been feeling guilty, too?”
He nodded.
“What a fine pair we are.” Her gaze was fixed wistfully on the window. “But Willard is…something truly disturbing.”
“Yes,” he agreed. And Millie didn’t yet know the worst—that there were other women whose lives he ruined. Several, if Mrs. Cartwright was to be believed.
“Emily said Willard has always acted perfectly polite in public before now. Given his behavior tonight, I can only conclude he must have gone mad.”
“I’ve come to the same conclusion. He’s acting heedlessly. And while he’s always been meanspirited, even cruel, he’s never been reckless.”
“I’m afraid, Neville.” Absently, she rubbed her forehead. “And, tired as I am, I don’t think I can sleep. Not knowing he’s out there, driven to an extreme end.”
He’d give anything to take away the circles beneath her eyes. But touching her now, while she was still skittish and raw, would be a mistake.
And if he touched her, he might never let her go.
“I’ll stay if you like.” The offer was no sacrifice. “I’ll keep watch all night if that would make you feel safe enough to sleep.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes softened. “The duke has footmen on watch. And I—I know you must be worried about your brother.”
“I am, though with Temperence found—Temperance is the young woman who made the accusations—my hope is that the nightmare will soon be over.”
“You’ll need more than just a young girl’s word to bring an earl’s son to justice.”
“I know,” he admitted.
She looked down at her hands. “I will do whatever I can to help.”
A dizzying wave of warm relief followed a split second of surprise.
“If,” she eyed him, “you want my help.”
Want? He’d take anything she wished to offer him. “Before tonight I thought… I believed protecting those in my care meant I must shoulder every burden myself.”
“I cannot say I am surprised,” she replied with the barest hint of an understanding smile.
“Isolation is not strength,” he murmured.
Immediately, he regretted the words he’d chosen. He hadn’t meant to cut to the heart of her reasons for refusing him, but he could tell by her face that he had. After an excruciating moment of silence, she answered.
“No,” she agreed. “Isolation is not the same as strength. How many people were involved in getting me away from the theater?”
He smiled halfheartedly. “Enough to make a proper cricket team.”
“I’m glad you were there.” Briefly, she touched his shoulder.
Too briefly. His shoulder burned where her fingers had brushed.
“I’m glad I was there, too.” If she’d let him, he’d be there for her always. “And I promise to gladly accept your help. I failed John in so many ways. I wasn’t there for him. I didn’t accept help. I gave in to my pride. I vow I will not fail you in the same way.”
Something flickered in her eyes. Something he hoped might become trust.
“I will help you in any way I can.” She held his gaze. “But I cannot promise my answer to the question you haven’t asked will change.”
“I understand.” Not promising was further still than her earlier no. “Go in, go upstairs, sleep for a while.”
“And you?”
“I have some things I must discuss with Harbury.” Even then, however he knew he could not leave this house. Not until the haunted look had gone from her eyes. “After, I will set up my watch.”
“Why?”
He swallowed roughly. He had thought to protect her from his problem, not involve her in its solution. They were, however, deep in the muck together. He needed her sharp mind. He needed her reassuring touch. He needed to know that it would be them against the world, always.
But he also didn’t need to frighten her away.
“Because I won’t be able to sleep knowing you do not feel safe.” He gave her a simpler answer. “Because I can’t leave without knowing your answer to the question I haven’t yet asked.”
Slowly, she nodded. Then, she turned away.
She disappeared into the shadows, and with her, the light from his heart. No matter what her answer when he finally did ask, he now knew the truth.
He loved Millicent Wainwright. He loved her enough to let her go.
*
Millie listened to the distant sound of voices below while staring at the ceiling in the spare room on the third floor of Harbury House. Cassie and Eliza stood at her bedside, in the middle of a disagreement over the necessity of additional bedcoverings.
While her sisters bickered, Millie could not make out the words spoken in the rooms below. She could hear enough to know the voices were deep, serious, and male. And even at this distance, she thought she could sense concern and resolve in the tones.
One voice occasionally rose above the others. One voice that had become, quite against Millie’s will, very comforting and dear. Imagination, perhaps.
Still, the sound soothed.
“Oh, taradiddle!” Cassie exclaimed to Eliza.
“I still think Millie should be warm enough. However, since you insist, I will go down and get another blanket from the linen closet.” She shook her head as she headed for the corridor.
“You never realize how much you’ve come to rely on help around the house until you’ve given them leave. ”
“Twaddle,” Eliza responded with a laugh. “Surely you are still capable of carrying a blanket, duchess.”
Cassie turned back from the doorway, leveling her twin with a so-dry-as-to-be-parched expression. Then, she left the room with an exaggerated huff.
As soon as Cassie closed the door, Eliza sat down at Millie’s side.
“I thought she would never leave,” Eliza whispered. “We don’t have much time. Adrian and I are leaving soon and, with Harbury feigning sickness, I’m not sure you and I will have another chance to be alone, and we need to talk about your wedding night.”