A Dash of Scandal(86)
She tried to scramble into the carriage by herself, but her foot slipped on the wet step and she fell forward, with the clinging and clanging of metal bumping together as she hit the ground.
She tried to pull herself up, and the sound of metal rent the air again. Mutterings of outrage and surprise from the crowd filled the night air. Lord Heathecoute and Chandler hurried over to assist the helpless lady to stand, and there was more clanging.
“What is this?” the viscount asked in horror as he felt down the front of her skirt.
The accused wailed loudly and leaned against the carriage door. Her large eyes seemed to be staring straight ahead but not looking at anyone or anything in particular.
Millicent was chilled by the screeching, pitiful sound that came from the older woman.
“Dear, dear. What is going on?” her husband asked as stiffly as he moved.
Lady Heathecoute started looking through the folds of her large skirt until she came to a long slit in the side that had been hidden in the fabric. She parted the material and reached into a large pocket and pulled out a silver tea pot and a silver tray.
For the third time that evening, gasps of surprise rang out in the still air.
Chandler looked at Millicent and something he had never felt before swelled in his chest. They had done it. Together they had found the Mad Ton Thief.
The noise from the crowd grew louder.
“Someone call for the authorities,” Chandler said.
Eighteen
“Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.” Just ask Miss Donaldson. Her father accepted an offer for her hand from Sir Charles Wright.
—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
The crowds were still thick around the Heathecoute’s carriage an hour later. The authorities arrived and after questioning the viscountess and her husband, they were taken away. Chandler and Millicent had talked to the officers at length and promised to be available later for more questions.
As soon as the officer dismissed them, Chandler saw his chance to get Millicent away from the too-curious crowd. Wanting to be careful of her reputation, he eased around to the far side of his coach with her and helped her inside before climbing in after her. He took the seat beside her rather than opposite her.
He knew taking her to his home was dangerous for more than one reason. If anyone saw her going in or out of his town house, her reputation would be ruined, but he needed a few minutes alone with her. He’d missed being able to spend time alone with her this past week. He would take extra precautions so no one would see her entering his house.
“How is your head?” he asked as soon as the vehicle started moving.
“I think the bleeding has stopped and the pain is almost gone now.”
“Good. Let me have a look.” He placed his fingertips under her chin and turned her face toward the lamp perched outside the carriage. It wasn’t the best light, but he could see enough to know the cut wasn’t deep, but it was long. He guessed about two inches. He could see that it was swollen, too. Anger at the viscountess for hurting Millicent rose up in him. The thief deserved whatever punishment she received.
Chandler’s eyes drifted past Millicent’s cut to her fan-shaped brows and long, full lashes. Her cheeks were glowing from the excitement of the evening. Her lips were moist, parted, and beautiful. He was tempted to place a kiss on her lovely eyelids, her flushed cheeks and move down to her enticing mouth and completely cover it with his. He bent his head to do just that as the carriage lurched, stopping him.
He cleared his throat and said, “I’m having my driver take you to my house so I can clean your wound and see to it before I take you home.”
“That’s nonsense,” she said and moved her head away from his touch. “I’m fine.”
“Lady Beatrice wouldn’t think so if she could see you right now. You look like you’ve been in a carriage accident, with dried blood in your hair and on your face, even your dress didn’t escape the blood.”
She turned away from him and glanced out the window. “I’m sure my maid will assist me in cleaning the cut and the dress doesn’t matter.”
He took hold of her hand and waited until she looked up into his eyes before saying, “It does matter. I want to do this for you. Lay your head back and rest. It will be only be a short ride.”
But she didn’t lay her head back, instead she continued to look at him in the dim, shadowed light and said, “A gentleman would offer me his shoulder to rest against.”