A Dash of Scandal (12 page)

When he was finished, he bowed and said, “I shall return at the appropriate time and claim your hand.”

“Can you believe it?” Lady Heathecoute said to her husband in as hushed a voice as Millicent had ever heard her speak. “I do believe Lord Dunraven is smitten with her.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” the viscount answered, surveying the dance floor. “He's never been smitten with anyone in his life, and it's not likely that he will be with her.”

“She is lovely. And this is the second time he has sought her out and asked her to dance.”

Lord Heathecoute sniffed loudly. “What of it? It's the third time Sir Charles Wright has asked her.”

“Sir Charles Wright tries to dance every dance no matter who the young lady is. Lord Dunraven does not. Even given his reputation, he's very choosy.”

“Maybe she has caught his fancy for now, but I'm sure that will soon fade. It always does with him. Don't worry. I'm certain the earl has no intentions of being leg shackled anytime in the near future. He's having too grand a life to settle down to the country with a wife and family.”

While the Heathecoutes talked about her as if she weren't present, Millicent tuned them out and turned away. She was glad she hadn't told them that Lord Dunraven had asked to call on her several times and she'd refused him. It was best she kept that information for her aunt alone.

If Aunt Beatrice had reason to suspect the viscount and viscountess wanted to take over the column, Millicent should be careful and not discuss anything of importance with them until she had cleared it with her aunt.

She couldn't deny that Lord Dunraven appeared to be smitten with her, but no doubt it was only temporary. And that was dangerous, since even knowing that, she kept finding herself in his arms. It was time for Millicent to be honest with her aunt and talk to her about Lord Dunraven.

This afternoon she had been a mere glimpse away from her mother's ill fate of being tossed out of London like dirty baggage. She couldn't explain it, she only knew she simply had no will when it came to the earl.

Angels above! If she would let him kiss her in a draper's shop, she could clearly not be trusted in his presence anywhere else in London.

She could not allow herself to become any more enamored of him than she already was, and she must never be alone with him again. But telling herself that didn't keep the minutes from seeming like hours until he came to claim his dance with her.

It was easy to scold herself and be firm as long as she wasn't looking into his heavenly blue eyes, as long as he wasn't caressing her with his mesmerizing gaze, or teasing her with delightful words.

Millicent had seen him several times throughout the evening, but never so closely as when he started walking toward her with that confident stride of a wealthy, titled gentleman. He was devilishly handsome with his hair brushed stylishly away from his face and his neckcloth beautifully tied. His brocade waistcoat and cutaway coat hid most of his crisp white shirt, but she didn't miss the small trim of lace at his sleeves.

Millicent felt a sharp prick to her heart as she thought of the viscount's words. For indeed the man striding toward her had the look of a man who had no intention of settling down to one lady. All the more reason for Millicent to seek the advice of her aunt as to how to rid herself of Lord Dunraven's attentions once and for all.

She took a deep breath to fortify herself as he walked with her toward the dance floor with the ease of a man who has had many years of practice.

Oh, he was so good at being bad.

“I've been waiting for a dance with you all evening.”

“I would wager you've said that to all the ladies you've had a promenade with this evening.”

He looked at her curiously. “What makes you say that?”

She lifted her eyebrows as if to question him. “Could it be your reputation of knowing just how to charm young ladies into thinking you are madly in love with them, but only calling on them once or twice?”

“So, we're back to that. I fear my reputation will always be between us.”

“Something has to be. I need armor, Lord Dunraven, when it comes to you, for my will alone doesn't work.”

There was a contrite lift to the corners of his mouth. “I thought I was the one who was in need of help from your charms.”

The threat of a smile fluttered at the corners of her lips. She didn't want to be bewitched by him tonight. “You jest, my lord, and I am serious.”

“Don't be serious. Not tonight. Let's enjoy the dance, the evening. It must have been wonderful at the Dovershafts for you to have been there so long this evening.”

“It wasn't that we tarried. We had a late start to the evening.”

The music started and he took hold of her hand and firmly placed his other hand, open palm, to the lower part of her back. He felt her warmth even through his gloves and her clothing, and it soothed his temper. In one long, fluid step he guided her backward, which led her sweeping into the box step. She faltered once, but he easily covered for her mistake. Something was wrong with her. She usually danced as if she had air between her feet and the floor.

“You seem a bit stiff this evening, Miss Blair.”

Without looking at him she answered, “Perhaps that is because I have come to my senses.”

“Did you lose them?”

“Dreadfully so.”

“We shared a few kisses.”

No, it was more than kisses.

“That is all, Millicent. There was no harm done to your reputation.”

Millicent wasn't so sure it was only her reputation that she worried about. She now feared her heart was also in danger of being lost to Lord Dunraven.

His impassive attitude caused her to look him in the eye. “I suppose I'm not shocked you take such a cavalier attitude to such inappropriate behavior.”

“I don't look at what happened between us that way.”

His fingers constantly moved over her gloved hand, rubbing, caressing. It was as if he couldn't get enough of touching her.

“That is because you are a scoundrel, sir. You have done such things on many occasions with many different ladies. It is as natural to you as breathing.”

“And that was established before our intimacy this afternoon.”

“You would not have been shamed out of Town had we been caught, but I would have.”

“Millicent, look at me.” When she met his eyes, he continued. “I wouldn't have let that happen. When as a gentleman I take a risk, I'm fully prepared to accept any consequences that might arise from my actions. You must trust me on this.”

“Your eyes and your expression are so genuine for a moment I could almost believe you. But I can't. To how many young ladies have you said the same thing?”

“Not as many as you think. You don't know how badly I want to pull you into my arms and kiss you again, Miss Blair.”

She looked over his shoulder past him again and said, “I must admit that I am not sorry that we kissed yesterday or today.”

“Or the way we kissed so thoroughly?”

Her gaze met his and, for a moment, he thought he saw a hint of a smile on her face. “That's correct. I found it most pleasurable.”

“I wonder if you could possibly know how saying things like that affect me? I'm not even sure I'm still following the steps of the waltz. I'm pleased you are not overwrought by what happened between us.”

“There will be no shame between us. Not now. It's too late for that.”

“Not ever. May I call on you tomorrow?”

“No, sir, you may not.”

“Miss Blair, you are driving me mad. After what you just told me how can you still deny me? It's clear you don't find me offensive. Why won't you allow me to call on you?”

Millicent's loyalty to her aunt forced her to remain unbending and say, “I am not here in London to be trifled with, Lord Dunraven.”

“I hear it in your voice and see in your eyes that you are serious. Trifling is not my intention, Millicent.”

“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.”

“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.”

“I'm sure it won't be long now. I don't know how the viscount and his lady stay out so late night after night. It's no wonder his lordship sleeps on the drive home.” Millicent purposely looked down at the dog. “Good morning, Hamlet. How are you today?” Hamlet barked once. Millicent lifted an eyebrow. Maybe she was winning him over.

“They sleep until it is time to get up and get dressed for the next party. That's how they do it. It's not too bad a life. Remember, this hectic schedule only lasts for the Season. They should attend more luncheons and take more rides in the park, but they do what they can, I suppose.”

“I wasn't complaining about them. They are very attentive to me.”

“Good. Now, before we begin, I have something for you to read,” her aunt said. “A letter for you.”

She saw the sheet of vellum in her aunt's hand. “For me?” Millicent's spirits lifted. “Is it from my mother?”

Millicent reached for the letter. She truly felt terrible that she had neglected writing to her mother while she'd been in London, but there had been so little
time. She was quite happy with the lace she had picked out for her mother after Lord Dunraven had left her in the shop, and she would see that it was sent to her tomorrow.

“No, but this might make you almost as happy as hearing from your mother. Read it out loud.”

Millicent took the sheet and moved closer to the brightly lit bedside lamp. Why would anyone other than her mother write to her?

“Dear Lord Truefitt,” she read aloud. She stopped and looked up. “This is not for me.”

“But of course it is. My dear Millicent, you are now Lord Truefitt.”

Hearing those words spoken stunned Millicent.
She was Lord Truefitt?

Yes, until her aunt returned to the parties. Millicent must talk to her aunt about Lord Dunraven. There was no putting it off any longer.

“Go ahead,” her aunt insisted. “Read it.”

Dear Lord Truefitt:

It has come to my attention that we have had numerous comments about your addition of quotes from Shakespeare at the beginning of your column each day. All good comments, I might add. Our readership is growing. We believe the success of your column is one of the reasons our circulation has increased. Congratulations on a splendid job. We hope you will continue your quotes from Shakespeare.

Yours very truly,

Thomas Greenbrier

Millicent looked up from the paper, feeling slightly starry-eyed. “It's a success.”

“That is what he is saying, yes.” Her aunt laughed low in her throat. “I must admit I had my doubts when you first started helping me, but according to Emery and Phillips everyone on the street is talking about our column.”

Millicent didn't like hearing the column referred to as hers. “But why?”

“From what I hear some people are squabbling over which play the quote comes from or what character has said it and other people are making a game out it. Sales are up on books of Shakespeare's works. There's talk that White's will soon make it available to wager a bet on which work of Shakespeare you will write from next.” Her aunt's smile beamed across her face. “It's smashing, dear girl. The attention you have brought to Lord Truefitt's column is simply smashing!”

Millicent couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had overheard a few people mention the quotes, but paid it no mind. “I don't understand. How can this be so popular that it's talked about by everyone?”

“You have mixed the most beloved author of all time with what the ton loves most—gossip! And it has worked beautifully.” Aunt Beatrice laughed again. “You are all the rage.”

All the rage?

No, she was speechless! What would happen if her mother found out?—or Lord Dunraven?

Millicent forced those thoughts away and politely said what she knew her aunt wanted to hear. “Not me, Aunt Beatrice. You. Remember this is your column and you will return to it soon. If you are pleased, Aunt, then I am pleased and we will continue to give your readers what they want.”

“It was a brilliant idea, dearie. To think that all these years I have enjoyed Shakespeare's works divinely but never thought to use his words in my own writings. That was most clever of you.”

“Thank you for letting me read this. You brought me here to help you, and I'm glad I have.” Millicent handed the letter to her aunt. Hamlet rose to sniff it briefly, but quickly settled back down.

“Shakespeare is all well and good, but it would be boring to most of our readers if we didn't spice it with gossip. Scandal is such a delicious form of entertainment. We must have more, Millicent.”

Millicent wasn't shy and she could handle herself at the parties. She just didn't like writing about people's personal and private lives.

“You have been doing this a week now,” her aunt continued, hardly catching a breath. “You must get more information on things like the meeting between Lord Dunraven and Lady Lambsbeth, who has danced with whom or who has made a match or who is thinking of making one. What is going on with Miss Pennington and Miss Donaldson? Our readers want to know who slips out into the gardens when no one is looking, which gentleman gets the kiss and which gets a slap. And of course, it always makes excellent gossip if a couple who is suited suddenly decides against marriage and why.”

Listening to her aunt talk with relish about the intimacies of other people's lives reminded Millicent why she didn't like what she was doing for her aunt. If anyone had seen her with Lord Dunraven in the draper's shop and then wrote about it, she would be devastated. Suddenly she felt chilled. What would happen if someone had seen them?

Exactly what happened to your mother.

Before she lost her courage, Millicent said, “That brings up a subject I must speak to you about.”

Her aunt sat up a little straighter. “Suddenly you look serious. Tell me.”

Millicent clasped her hands together in front of her skirt and said, “Against my wishes, it appears that Lord Dunraven is pursuing me.”

“What's this?” Her aunt leaned forward in the bed so fast Hamlet scampered to the end of the bed. “The Lord Dunraven of the Terrible Threesome and the missing raven?”

Is there another?

Millicent hoped she was doing the right thing in confessing to her aunt and seeking help. “Yes. I swear, Aunt, I've done nothing to encourage him.”
Had she?
“In fact, I've been quite the opposite and almost rude at times.”
Submissive at others.
“But at every turn he rebuffs my rejections and keeps insisting I allow him to call on me. I always decline. And—”

“And?”

“He's been absolutely forward in his manner toward me every time we meet.”

“This is most fascinating, Millicent. You must give me details.”

Millicent winced.
No.

She couldn't possibly tell her aunt that she had been so thoroughly kissed and caressed by this man that she had half fallen in love with him already. She must think quickly.

“So far, it hasn't been anything I can't handle, but I need to know how to rebuke him so that he leaves me alone. We can't run the risk of him discovering who I am. He may get curious about what I'm doing.”

“The only way for him to discover that is for you to tell him, and I'm sure you won't let that happen. But I agree that it's in our best interest that he not pursue you.”

“He's much too charming.”

“He is a rake who knows all the tricks, and he's such a worldly gentleman. You must tell me exactly what he has done. Has he compromised you?”

“No, nothing as serious as that,” she fibbed. Millicent groped for the right words. “He caressed my hand and squeezed my fingers the entire time we were dancing.”

“Botheration, Millicent,” her aunt exclaimed. “That's hardly worthy of gossip. What else did he do?”

Millicent looked at her aunt and wasn't at all sure she approved of the gleam she saw her in red eyes.

“He blew me a kiss. He danced the waltz with me. He keeps asking to call on me. I know it doesn't seem like a lot, but he is most persistent. He won't take no for an answer. I don't know what to do.”

“I do,” her aunt said with all confidence and in the strongest voice she had used since Millicent arrived. “The one thing that will make Lord Dunraven lose interest in a young lady faster than anything else.”

“What's that?”

“Having his name linked with hers in the gossip columns. Get your quill, Millicent. We shall write about him and mention you.”

***

Rare late afternoon sunshine filtered through the tree leaves and sliced through the open windows in Chandler's book room. He sat at the fine rosewood desk that had been his father's and his father's before him, trying not to look at the empty shelf where the gold raven should be perched.

He was supposed to be going over the array of account books on his vast estates that were spread out before him, but mostly he was brooding. And thinking of Millicent Blair.

Keeping a sharp eye on the management of his estates and holdings was the reason he'd been able to enjoy his extravagant lifestyle these past years. His father had given him a good start, but Chandler had been shrewd with his investments and the lands he purchased. His managers did an excellent job keeping his land prosperous and his tenants happy. He usually paid each of them a visit in the fall before the dead of winter set over the land.

He knew it to be true that in his younger years he had spent too much money gambling and racing horses, and too many nights in debauchery, but he never came close to endangering his wealth or his properties, though he may have endangered his life a time or two.

Today, he couldn't concentrate. A certain young lady had captured his fancy and wouldn't let go. Every time he tried to put her out of his mind, she came back to smile at him, tease him, beckon him. She intrigued him madly. He was sure if she would merely tell him he could call on her properly it would get her out of his mind. It was the chase that no doubt intrigued him.

He swung his chair around and stared out the open window without really seeing anything. It wasn't like him to be so attracted to a woman that he couldn't get her womanly scent out of his mind or the sweet taste of her lips out of his mouth. If he hadn't taken control of himself yesterday afternoon, he would have undressed her right there in that shop—and she would have let him.

There was no doubt that she was as attracted to him as he was to her, yet she refused to have him call on her in a respectable manner. Still, he shouldn't have let things go so far between them in such a public place.

Chandler had done some crazy things in his life, including entering a willing young lady's bedroom window, but he had stopped that foolishness years ago. And even then, he did it for the sport, for the thrill of not getting caught, not because he was in love with the lady. He'd risked Millicent's reputation and his freedom because he wanted to be with her.

He risked a lot for a lady he knew very little about. What was she hiding? He had settled for himself that she had nothing to do with the Mad Ton Thief, but why was she always making notes and being so secretive about her family? He should try to find out more about her before his heart became involved with her.