A Dash of Scandal(97)

Millicent stayed out in the garden until dusk. Chandler never showed.

Lady Beatrice agreed that Millicent shouldn’t attend any of the parties that evening. Her wound didn’t look that bad, but her aunt had to have time to arrange a new chaperone for Millicent. Thankfully, they had enough gossip for a couple of days with the capture of the Mad Ton Thief, and they could always write about one of the Terrible Threesome.

The next afternoon Millicent once again retreated to the garden hoping Chandler would steal through the hedge to see her. The gray sky seemed fitting as she sat on the base of the statue where she’d frolicked with Chandler and remembered their hour together in his home.

Twilight came. Chandler didn’t come, and there was no further note from him.

When she went back inside, the latest copy of The Daily Reader had arrived. As always, she opened it first to Lord Truefitt’s column to have a look at it.

Millicent blinked, then gasped. She turned the pages of the newspaper. Something was wrong. It was Lord Truefitt’s column, but it wasn’t her writings. What had happened?

She read the words carefully.

“Beware the ides of March” might be Lord Dunraven’s motto, for it seems he may be caught at last by a pretty maiden. It is on good authority this column reports a young lady new to Town, who has danced with the earl at the best parties, was seen fleeing his home in the wee hours of morning, without benefit of a chaperone. The earl himself was said to have been chasing after her carriage in a state of dishabille. Hmm, one wonders what was going on. Do tell, if you know more.

—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column

For a moment Millicent was shocked into disbelief. How could her article have been switched with the one about her and Chandler? Who could have seen her leave Lord Dunraven’s house so early in the morning?

Only Chandler and the coachman. Could Chandler have replaced her column with one of his own? No, he was a rake and not to be trusted, but she couldn’t believe that of him. She had no idea who might have seen her leave his house, but she was certain Chandler would not have done this.

Why would anyone have written about it?

Her hands made fists as she held the newspaper, crinkling the pages tight. She didn’t have to ask why. She knew. It was for the gossip. The very thing she had promised herself and her mother that wouldn’t happen had happened.

Millicent was the object of scandal!

She dropped the paper and rushed up the stairs to her bedchamber. She would leave immediately. She would run away, so she wouldn’t have to look anyone in the eyes. If she were lucky her mother would never find out about this. Millicent hated the thought of trying to explain to her mother, or hurting her. But what could she say to her aunt? How could she explain that being with Chandler was more important than her reputation? She couldn’t. Aunt Beatrice wouldn’t understand.

There were no words to justify her involvement with Chandler. Millicent went to her wardrobe and jerked down her gowns and threw them on the bed. When she turned back to the wardrobe for the rest of her things, she saw Hamlet standing in the doorway watching her. He wagged his tail and looked at her with doleful, expectant eyes. In the weeks she’d been here, the dog had never ventured into her bedchamber. Did he realize what the clothes on the bed meant?

He continued to look at her and wag his tail. Did he want her to pat him? She knelt down and reached out her hand. He walked over to her and sniffed her fingers, then licked them. Millicent smiled. She rubbed his warm body and allowed him to lick her cheek affectionately.

“Oh, you smart little dog.” Millicent sat down on the floor and pulled Hamlet into her lap so she could brush his coat with her hand.

What a sweetheart he was to come to her when she most needed a friend. Her world had come crashing down around her and somehow Hamlet had known and he had come to comfort her.

No, she was not her mother. Millicent wouldn’t flee London, or hide, or be forced into marriage with a man who didn’t love her just to save her reputation. She would stay in Town and do her best to finish the job she’d started for her aunt.

There was no way she would be allowed at any of the parties now, but maybe Lady Lynette wouldn’t desert her. If Millicent could talk to Lady Lynette once or twice a week, she would be able to get sufficient gossip until her aunt was ready to resume her duties. At that time, Millicent would feel she had fulfilled her commitment to her father’s sister.

But first she had to tell her aunt about the column, and she had to do it now. And if her mother, by chance, found out about her liaison with Lord Dunraven, Millicent was sure she would understand. After all, her mother had once been in love with a rake, too.