A Dash of Scandal(85)

Why did he have a gift for saying things that made her heart beat a little faster, her breath come a little slower?

“Millicent, that does look like a nasty cut and should be seen to right away,” Lord Heathecoute said.

Millicent was now certain that her chaperone was hiding something beneath her clothing. She didn’t know what was holding the items under her skirt, but the viscountess had deliberately pushed her into the carriage and it was no slight shove. Her head was pounding.

“Ma’am,” Millicent said, ignoring the viscount and looking directly at his lady. “I hit something under your skirt. What was it?”

Lady Heathecoute took a step back. Her eyes quickly darted from Millicent to Chandler to her husband. “I don’t know what you are talking about. There’s nothing beneath my skirt.”

Millicent noticed that several people had gathered around. “I felt it,” Millicent insisted and took a challenging step toward her.

“She’s right,” Chandler said. “I heard something clang together when she stumbled into you.”

“You’re both talking nonsense,” Lady Heathecoute huffed loudly. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She turned to her husband. “You didn’t hear anything, did you, my lord?”

He lowered his eyes and looked down at his wife. “Yes, I do believe I heard some kind of a clanging noise, but I don’t know what it was or where it came from.”

“You imbecile!” she exclaimed in an earsplitting voice, but then, as if realizing how loudly she had spoken, she lowered her voice considerably and continued. “If there was noise it certainly didn’t come from under my skirt! Now, Millicent, get in the carriage at once. We must get you home and see to that cut before you visit with Beatrice. I don’t know what made you so clumsy tonight.”

Millicent and Chandler looked at her, and so did the six or so other people who had gathered around them. Millicent knew she had to do something. She would be leaving London as soon as her aunt was well. She need never return. This was Chandler’s home. She could withstand the talk and embarrassment if they were wrong about Lady Heathecoute. Chandler could not. Millicent had to be the one to press the issue.

It was now or never. She might not get another chance to expose the thief.

“No, I won’t leave until you reveal to us what you are hiding beneath your gown.”

The viscountess’s eyes widened further. “How dare you disobey me.”

“I felt something when I hit you. Lord Dunraven and your husband heard something. Now, take off your cloak and show us what you are hiding.”

Lady Heathecoute’s face contorted into a mask of cold rage. “Of all the ungrateful chits in London, you are the worst I have ever encountered. You have no right to demand that I do anything, and I will not!”

“Dearest,” her husband said in a voice that dripped with boredom over the whole event. “Just open your cloak and show them that you are hiding nothing, then they can apologize to us for being so ungodly rude and we can go home.”

“I will do no such thing,” she exclaimed again.

Millicent took a deep breath and said, “Lady Heathecoute, I’m afraid I believe you might be the Mad Ton Thief.”

Gasps of surprise and horror sounded all around her, but Millicent didn’t take her eyes off her suspect. If she was wrong, she would have to leave London and never return—just as her mother had.

Chandler put his arm around Millicent’s shoulder and said, “I agree with her. I can’t let you leave here until we know that you are not hiding anything.”

The viscountess pretended to faint and fell back into her husband’s arms, almost knocking him over. She peered up at her husband pleadingly. In a weakened voice she said, “Tell her I don’t have to do this? I won’t do it. I must go home immediately.”

Obviously finding a little backbone, her husband pointed his nose at Millicent and barked, “You accuse my wife of such a dastardly deed after all she has done for you. I’m aghast at your behavior. Have you no shame as well as no manners?”

“It’s not just Millicent,” Chandler said. “It’s me, too, and now these people,” he said, pointing to the small crowd that had gathered.

Sneering at Chandler, Lord Heathecoute looked at his lady and said, “You must prove the chit and the earl wrong, my dear, then I will take you home.”

The viscountess clutched the front of his coat firmly with both hands. Her face was frantic with fear and rage. “I can’t, I won’t. I won’t!” She screamed and pushed away from her husband.