A Dash of Scandal(53)
“Your reputation says otherwise, and please don’t call me by my given name.”
“After this afternoon, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to continue to call you Miss Blair.”
“You must.”
“Why?”
“I’m only here for a few months and then I will go back home. You must stay away from me.”
Chandler knew the dance was approaching the end. He would have to return her to the viscountess. “Did you not come to Town looking to make a match?”
“No. I came to help—” She stopped. “I came to see London, to have a Season and enjoy the parties.”
Chandler could have sworn that she started to say something different or something more. But what?
“That is all?”
“Yes. And even if I were seriously looking to make a match, you wouldn’t suit.”
That was plain speaking indeed, not that he thought for a moment he wanted to marry her. He just wanted to be with her, and touch her, and hold her, and kiss her.
“What makes me unacceptable?” he asked.
A faraway look came to her eyes and her face softened beautifully. “My mother had her coming out Season in London over twenty years ago and she—and I wanted to have a Season, too. That is all I can say.”
He was certain now that she wanted to tell him more but wasn’t ready to confide in him. If he didn’t push her anymore tonight maybe in time she would tell him everything. “And whom did she marry?”
“My father.”
He laughed and twirled her around as the dance ended. He bowed. “You delight me, Millicent. How can I give you up?”
She curtsied. “Do not pursue me, Lord Dunraven.”
He took her hand and started walking her back to her chaperone. “I will not be denied, lovely lady. If I can’t call on you openly, I will have to see you in secret—again.”
Eleven
“Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise” and no wonder. Has anyone, perchance, told the dashing Lord Dunraven this fact, he who seems to be in the gossip sheets daily—and should be. Word has it he is no longer interested in Lady Lambsbeth. He now has his eye on a young lady new to Town but obviously not new in the ways of capturing the heart of a confirmed bachelor. He was seen blowing her a kiss.
—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
Dawn couldn’t be more than an hour away as Millicent entered the front door, her steps slower and heavier than usual. Hamlet announced her with his warning bark, but it didn’t seem to be as loud or frantic as usual. She turned out the lamp that was always left on for her and leaned against the back of the door as was her custom. Most nights she was too weary to go immediately to her aunt’s room. She usually took a minute or two to unwind before starting the column.
She wanted the privacy of her own bedchamber so she could have some time to think about Lord Dunraven and all the unwanted feelings and emotions he had stirred inside her before going in to see her aunt. But, she couldn’t do that. There was little enough time each morning as it was to write the article and get it out to the newspaper on time.
Millicent pushed away from the door and climbed the stairs, stopping short of her aunt’s door. She knocked and upon hearing the response, she entered her aunt’s room. Aunt Beatrice was sitting up in her bed, looking much better than she had the day before. Once the healing had started taking place in her face it was rapidly returning her features to their normal size and shape.
Weary though she was, Millicent smiled and said, “Good morning, Aunt Beatrice.” She stopped at the foot of the bed, knowing Hamlet would not allow her to go further. “Is that a new bed jacket you’re wearing? It’s lovely and you are looking better each day.”
Her aunt smiled. “Thank you, dearie. I’m happy to say that I’m finally beginning to feel better. I was starting to think that day would never come. Tell me about the parties tonight. Was everyone at Almack’s? You must have been having a delightful time to be out so long. I do wish I could have been there. I miss seeing everyone.”
“My first evening at Almack’s was splendid. Thank you for arranging that, Aunt Beatrice. And from what I could tell everyone was there. The place was overflowing with people.”
“It’s always that way, dear, even on the stormiest nights. It’s wonderful to hear you had a splendid evening. It seems like I’ve been waiting hours for your return. I’m simply faint with wanting to get out of this bed and back to the parties to chat with my friends and listen to what everyone has to say.”