A Dash of Scandal(40)

“Now, see here,” Fines complained. “There’s no call for that kind of talk.”

Chandler gave up on his two friends and walked off.

***

The moon was high in the sky when the Heathecoute’s carriage let Millicent out in front of her aunt’s town home. They waited until Phillips opened the door and let her inside before driving away. Hamlet started barking before Millicent made it to the top of the stairs. He didn’t bark when any of the servants headed to the upper floors, and Millicent hoped he would soon know her footsteps as well.

She stopped outside her aunt’s partly open door and knocked lightly. She always waited until she heard either her aunt or Emery reply before she walked inside.

At the response to enter Millicent stepped through the doorway. The heavy odor of lamp oil mixed with the strong scent of liniment hit her like a blast of tepid air. Much to Millicent’s surprise her aunt was sitting propped up in bed against several pillows with Hamlet curled and watchful next to her hip. For the first time since Millicent had arrived at her aunt’s house, the lamps were brightly lit. Millicent could see her aunt’s face clearly.

“Aunt Beatrice,” Millicent exclaimed with a smile. She walked closer to the bed, even though Hamlet growled a warning. “You are looking wonderful this evening. I mean morning.” Millicent had lost all track of time with the exhausting hours she kept.

“How can you say that, dearie?” her aunt complained with a wave of her uninjured hand. “I feel so absolutely wretched. My head is spinning.”

Beatrice was a comely woman—when not injured. She was small in stature and looked much younger than her age of fifty-five. Millicent could see how her friendly manner had served her well, considering what she had been doing for all these years. Her dark brown hair was lightly streaked with gray and fell in soft waves down her shoulders. The swelling had gone down around her eyes and mouth. Her face was regaining its shape.

“I say it because it’s true. You are beginning to look like the beautiful aunt I remember.”

“Go on with that nonsense talk,” she said, but lightly touched the skin around her eyes and her mouth.

“It’s not nonsense. Most of the puffiness has gone down in your face and the bruising has faded from a dark purple to a light pink and yellow.”

“Don’t say any more, please. That sounds positively horrible. It’s been well more than a week now since I fell and it still pains me to move.”

“That’s because your body is still healing. It takes time for broken bones to mend. Don’t fret. You’ll be taking Hamlet for walks in your beautiful garden and be back at your work before you know it.”

“Not soon enough for me,” she grumbled.

“Everyone I’ve met who knows I’m staying with you sends greetings and good well wishes.”

Aunt Beatrice sighed and pulled at the neckline of her night rail. “I’m sure I won’t make it to return at all this Season.”

Her aunt couldn’t get well soon enough for Millicent. “Let’s not give up hope until we have to, shall we?”

“My face doesn’t feel as tight today.” She reached up and lightly patted her palm to her cheek. “Perhaps I look a little better, but I’m by no means ready to be up and about.”

Millicent moved a step closer. Hamlet’s head popped up, and he watched her with big, dark brown eyes, but he didn’t bark or growl. Maybe she was making progress with him. She smiled at him before returning her attention to her aunt.

“You’re sitting up, which you haven’t done before, so I see that as a good sign that you are now on the mend.”

“I suppose you are right. Let’s get on with the article. What do you have for me tonight?”

Millicent took her reticule off her wrist and opened it. She pulled out her dance card and turned it over to read her notes on the back, but the back was blank.

Blank? Angels above! How could that be? Frantic, she searched her reticule for another card but found nothing. Still not believing her eyes, she turned her small purse upside down and emptied its contents on the foot of her aunt’s bed. Hamlet rose and walked over to the things lying near her aunt’s feet. He quietly sniffed the pencil and barked once, then moved on to her handkerchief.

Oh, no!

She looked at the front of the card and realized that Lord Dunraven had mistakenly picked up someone else’s card from the floor! What rotten luck! Hers was probably at this moment being swept into a trash heap by the servants while she stared at a useless card.