A Dash of Scandal(41)

“What could have happened?” she whispered softly to herself as her hands clutched into tight fists.

“Dear girl, what is it?” her aunt questioned. “You seem distraught.”

“It’s nothing.” Millicent couldn’t let her aunt know what had happened. “I was just looking for something. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t covering for herself very well. How could Lord Dunraven pick up the wrong card?

“Now, what did I discover tonight? Let me think for a moment.”

Millicent put her finger to her lips and pretended to do some serious thinking. Her mind was as blank as the useless card in her hand. What had she written down when she was in that reading room?

She couldn’t remember anything but the expression on Lord Dunraven’s face when he handed her the dance card. Had he known he had the wrong card? No, that would have been impossible. She watched him reach down and pick it up. It looked like her card, but then most of them looked very much alike.

Lord Dunraven had caught her once before making notes on her dance card. He had even teased her about it later, but she was sure there was no way he could have seen her making notes tonight. She’d been so careful to be sure that no one had followed her to that back room.

“Millicent, you are taking too long with your thinking. We don’t have that much time.”

“Ah—I think the most important gossip I heard tonight was that Lady Lambsbeth is back in Town.”

“Are you sure?” Aunt Beatrice leaned forward, having lost interest in the contents of Millicent’s reticule, Hamlet snuggled back against Aunt Beatrice.

“Quite.” Millicent felt sure she could trust anything Lady Lynette told her.

“That sounds delicious. If this is true, it’s worth reporting. Who was she dancing with?”

“I don’t know, but she was seen having a secluded tête-à-tête with Lord Dunraven.” Millicent blurted out the bit of information Lady Lynette had whispered to her as she was leaving the party with Viscountess Heathecoute.

“Are you sure about this? Did you witness their intimate conversation?”

She hadn’t, but she was sure. She’d been attacked with something that felt very much like jealousy when Lady Lynette had whispered the information to her.

“Goodness no. I have no idea what Lady Lambsbeth looks like. I received this information from a very good source as I was leaving the party.”

Aunt’s Beatrice’s eyes suddenly looked glassy. “If it is true, this is just the sort of thing our readers like to read about.”

A lump formed in Millicent’s throat. She was a bit concerned about how interested her aunt was in this particular information. Her eyes were flashing with excitement.

“Millicent, I need to know who told you about this clandestine meeting. We can’t publish a word of it unless we are sure Lady Lambsbeth is in Town and that she attended at least one party that the earl attended.”

Millicent wrinkled her brow. She had a sinking feeling that it might have been better had she kept the information about Lady Lambsbeth and Lord Dunraven to herself. But it was too late for recriminations now.

“So whether they actually had a conversation is not important?” Millicent asked.

“Of course it is. In a small way. It is perfectly all right to assume that if they, indeed, ended up at the same party that sometime during the evening, they had a conversation—given their past relationship. It would have been so delicious to have overheard a word or two of what they said. Now tell me, who gave you this information?”

“I’d rather not say, Aunt Beatrice. My source believes she talks to me in secret.”

“And she does. The same as I talk to you and you to me in private. Good heavens! Do you think I’d ever reveal where Lord Truefitt’s information comes from? What a ninny I would be if I did that. And if anyone finds out I am Lord Truefitt, I’ll leave Town in shame.”

“I understand that. I’m certain that she would not tell me something that didn’t happen. She is most reliable.”

“I’m certain of that, too. Heavens, Millicent, I’ve been doing this for over fifteen years and I’ve trusted no one with the information but my contact at The Daily Reader, the Heathecoutes, and now you.”

What her aunt said was true and gave Millicent some reassurance, but this made her certain she’d never like writing about other people’s personal lives. What if Lord Dunraven didn’t want anyone to know he had talked to Lady Lambsbeth?