A Dash of Scandal(84)

Chandler was right. Something didn’t look quite right under the yards of fabric that was her skirt.

A chill ran over Millicent. She looked up at Chandler. “I think… you don’t suppose…”

“That she has something hidden under her skirt?” Chandler finished the question for Millicent.

She looked up into his eyes. “Don’t even think it. It can’t be possible.”

“We’ve known for some time that the thief had to be someone who is free to come and go at every party,” Chandler gently reminded her.

Millicent looked at the lady again and knew for certain there was something wrong with her skirt. Millicent’s stomach knotted with apprehension. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, yet, but we’ll think of something.”

“We’d better come up with it fast because she’s heading this way with her husband. I think they are going to tell me it’s time to go.”

“She’s not leaving until we know if she’s hiding something under her dress,” he murmured under his breath as the Heathecoutes approached.

“Lord Dunraven, how are you this evening?” the viscount asked, his nose held high and not a hint of a smile on his thin lips.

“Well, thank you. How about you and your lady?”

“We’re in fine shape, too.”

Chandler turned to their prey. “You are looking very nice tonight, viscountess.”

She offered a little smile that twitched her lips. “Oh, thank you, sir, but I’m afraid I can tell it’s the end of the evening. I’m a little tired and ready to quit the night. Are you ready, Millicent, dear?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, then we’ll take our leave.”

“Lord Heathecoute,” Chandler spoke up after a quick glance to Millicent, “do you mind if I walk out with you to the carriages?”

“No, not at all, my lord. Pleased to have you join us.”

Millicent was quiet and watchful as they stopped for their cloaks. Thankfully, her chaperone didn’t try to engage her in conversation. Millicent couldn’t help but notice that her ladyship immediately wrapped her large cloak around her body as if she were trying to ward off the harshest of winter nights instead of a pleasant spring evening. Millicent left hers to hang free from her shoulders as was the current fashion.

She didn’t want to believe that the woman who’d chaperoned her these past three weeks was a thief. Lady Heathecoute had been diligent in her care and respect for Millicent, and she felt dreadful about what she was going to have to do.

Millicent heard the viscount and Chandler talking as they made their way to the front and waited for their carriage to be brought around. What could she do? Reach out and grab the front of the lady’s dress? Demand she lift her skirt? No, the thought of what would happen if she was wrong was too horrible to contemplate, but she must do something.

Their carriage arrived and the driver jumped down and opened the door.

Time was slipping away. Millicent had to do something now. When the Lady Heathecoute reached for her husband’s hand to be helped into the carriage, Millicent deliberately stumbled and fell into the viscountess, hitting something hard in the front of her skirt that clattered like silver teapots clanging together.

“You oaf!” Lady Heathecoute squealed and shoved Millicent with such strong force she couldn’t stop herself from falling forward. She slammed into the carriage door, her head striking the metal handle and cutting a deep gash into her forehead.

Chandler rushed to her aid and kept her from falling. “Millicent, are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, but in truth her head was throbbing with pain and she was a bit dazed. She felt the trickle of blood running down the side of her face.

He threw a hostile glare to the lady. “This roughness wasn’t necessary.”

“Now see here,” the viscount said. “Millicent stumbled into her.”

Chandler found a handkerchief in his pocket and pressed it against Millicent’s wound. She winced and took it away.

“Chandler, I’m fine. Let me handle this.”

“No, we are in this together and you’re not all right. The skin is broken and your head is bleeding.”

Millicent looked up into his eyes and whispered, “Do not worry about me. I will be well. Let’s finish what we have started.”

He looked deeply into her eyes. He whispered, “You are more important to me than anything else. Hold this to your wound so it will stop bleeding.”