by Amelia Grey
Chandler turned his attention back to the young lady with the golden eyes. The dance had ended and she was being escorted off the crowded floor. He watched her until she was returned to Viscountess Heathecoute. No doubt the tall, buxom lady was her chaperone for the evening and quite possibly for the entire Season.
“What do you think about Miss Pennington?”
Preferable to Miss Bardwell.
Chandler looked back to Andrew. “She appears to be a favorite among the younger bachelors this Season. I hear she’s enjoying the attention of all of them, accepting four and five calls in an afternoon.”
“That many?”
“From what I hear, but we both know how unreliable gossip is.” Chandler smiled ruefully at his friend. “I think she’s already rejected two offers of a match, including Albert Longnecker.”
“Yes, I heard. He didn’t take kindly to her open rejection, and neither did his father. The duke was furious about what she said about his name.”
“Only the gossips reported that, and I certainly don’t believe everything that’s written in them. You’ll have to arrive at a party early in the evening to find an empty space on her dance card.”
“I know.” Andrew clapped Chandler on the back of his shoulder. “And I do believe my dance with her is coming up next.”
He started to walk off, but Chandler stopped him by putting a hand to his upper arm. “Andrew, aren’t you forgetting something?”
His friend rubbed his chin and gave a mock expression of deep thought. “No. I don’t believe so.”
“What did you find out about her?” He nodded toward the dance floor.
“Who?” Andrew asked with a fake expression of seriousness.
“You know who,” Chandler said impatiently.
A wicked smile spread across Andrew’s face. “Oh, yes. I almost forgot. We were talking about Miss Bardwell, right?”
Chandler’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lead me, old friend. We’ve been together too many years for that.”
“Damn shame. It would have been such fun.” Andrew’s smile turned mischievous. “At least now I know just how interested in her you are.”
“You only know I asked about her.”
“Twice.” He held up two fingers as if Chandler couldn’t hear him.
“You know nothing more than that.”
“Then let me put you out of your misery. Viscount Heathecoute and his lady are her sponsors for the Season, and she is staying with Lady Beatrice, who I believe is ill at the moment. They aren’t saying too much more about her except she’s the niece of a friend. They felt she was deserving of a Season in London so they agreed to be her chaperones.”
“And?”
“And that’s about all I know.”
“About all?” Chandler questioned. “So there is more—like her name?”
“Good lord, you don’t miss a thing, do you? I believe you are still capable of obtaining an introduction to a lady, if you are truly interested enough.”
“Then I’ll take it from here.”
“Friendly warning, Dunraven.”
“After fifteen years by your side, do I need one?”
“Perhaps this time you do,” Andrew said. “I’ve never seen you look at a lady quite the way I saw you looking at her tonight. I know fascination when I see it. I have to admit you have me a bit worried.”
Chandler smiled to cover the truth of his friend’s words. “Fascination? You jest. Slow down on the champagne, Andrew, it has gone straight to your head.”
Andrew smirked. “Don’t change the subject. Look all you want, but do not touch.”
“Why the stern warning?”
“No doubt you are just the kind of man she is looking for. Handsome, wealthy, and titled. She’s probably some farm-poor knight’s daughter, and her family is hoping she’s pretty enough to catch some man’s eye and land a titled gentleman and be set for life.”
“You could be right,” Chandler said, considering Andrew’s words.
Would that be so bad if the lady was enchanting?
“Did I hear a long, silent ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?”
Chandler drew in a deep breath and started to say more, but instead he said, “No. You heard the call for the next dance. You don’t want to be tardy.”
“I’ll be off then.” He pointed a finger in Chandler’s direction. “Forewarned.”
His friend walked away, leaving Chandler curious about his own feelings where the mysterious young lady was concerned.
A giggle sounded behind him, and he turned to see Miss Bardwell and Miss Donaldson standing before him. Both young ladies looked hopeful and giddy with big smiles on their faces. Their dresses were cut far too low for their tender age, but it was the fashion.
Chandler smiled more to himself than at the ladies. He used to think the lower cut the neckline of a gown the better, but recently he found their ploys to get attention didn’t intrigue him like they once did. Now he was more interested in a lady who was a little, but not too much, older and more communicative.
“Good evening, ladies.” He bowed, then took both their hands in his and divided one kiss between the two ladies’ hands. He would not fall for the trick of favoring one lady over the other. Long ago he had realized the gossips who circle among the ton see from the backs of their heads.
“Shame on you, Lord Dunraven,” Miss Bardwell said in a provocative tone with a flirtatious smile on her too thin lips. “You’ve been avoiding all the young ladies at the ball this evening. Why attend a party if you don’t mean to dance with at least two of us?”
Miss Bardwell was not coy.
Chandler looked at the pale, blue-eyed beauty. She was fetching and intelligent enough, he supposed, but there was nothing about her that he found appealing enough to encourage her approach. He didn’t even want to pay her an obligatory call.
He looked from Miss Bardwell to the prettier, but quieter, and more reserved Miss Donaldson and said, “May I assume you two young ladies would be willing to see to it that I’m not left a wallflower tonight?”
Miss Bardwell giggled and flapped her fan a couple of times. “You have only to ask.”
Chandler relented and said, “In that case, ladies, I should like a dance with each of you if you haven’t promised them to other gentlemen.”
While he waited for them to produce their cards he turned and searched the room for her.
She was nowhere in sight.
***
“It won’t work, you know.”
Startled, Millicent jumped at the sound of the woman’s voice coming from behind her. Someone had caught her again! Angels above, was there no safe place where a lady could make a few notes?
Millicent turned around from the darkened corner of the buffet room and faced a tall, buxom, dark-haired lady. Millicent’s eyes were immediately drawn to a brownish-red disfiguring birthmark that covered the lower half of her left cheek and spilled just under the line of her jaw.
Not wanting to stare, Millicent quickly focused on the young lady’s pretty green eyes and asked, “What makes you so sure it won’t work?”
“Oh, I’ve tried it.”
Millicent wasn’t sure exactly what this young lady thought she was doing, so she merely stated, “You have?”
“Oh, mercy, yes. Many times.” She sighed heavily. “I finally gave up and you should, too.”
“And why is that?”
The young lady walked closer to Millicent. Even though she was a large young woman, she moved with the regal grace of a lady of breeding.
“You can fill in names on all the blank spaces but sooner or later the other ladies in attendance will talk about why your dance card is always full, but you are never seen on the dance floor.”
Relief. She thought Millicent was filling in gentlemen’s names on her dance card. Thank goodness. For a moment Millicent had thought the lady might actually have some idea of what she was writing.
“I’m sure you are right about that,�
�� Millicent said. “Thank you for the warning.”
“I am perplexed about something, though,” the young lady continued as she looked down at Millicent’s card.
“What is that?” Millicent asked as she slipped her dance card into her reticule.
“There should be no need for you to have to write down gentlemen’s names. I’ve seen you on the dance floor a respectable number of times this evening. And you are much too pretty to end up a spinster like me. Why would you be adding names?”
Millicent relaxed and smiled. She liked the friendliness she saw in this young lady’s eyes and didn’t want to mislead her, but there was no way she could be completely honest with her or anyone else.
“That’s most kind of you to say, but I guess we all want to be more sought after than we are. Human nature, you know.”
“I used to feel that way, too, but I don’t anymore,” the young lady said with resignation. “After four years I realized that no man was going to marry me because of my birthmark. The few gentlemen who danced with me only asked me to please their mothers, who felt sorry for me, or to show other young ladies they were nice enough gentlemen to marry because they would dance with someone who looks like me.”
Millicent wanted to dispute what she said but knew she probably spoke the truth. She didn’t understand it, but she believed beauty meant more to a man than loyalty and love.
“I’m sure you are shortchanging yourself unduly.”
“No, I’m not. But I’ve found other things that give me pleasure. I enjoy reading and writing poetry. And I’m very good with a needle.”
“Those are good things to do. Perhaps you didn’t give the gentlemen in your life a chance to get to know you.”
“You are just being kind,” she said wistfully, “and that is very nice of you.” She smiled sweetly at Millicent. “Let’s break the rules and pretend we’ve been properly introduced. Do you mind?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good. I’m Lynette Knightington, the youngest daughter of the Duke of Grembrooke.”
Millicent curtsied. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Lynette. I’m Millicent Blair.” Millicent didn’t add that she was the daughter of an earl. It was Aunt Beatrice’s desire that her true identity not be revealed. No one was to know her heritage, and considering what she was doing, that was the way Millicent wanted it, too.
“I’ve not seen you before.”
“Lord Heathecoute and his lady have graciously agreed to sponsor me for the Season,” Millicent said with ease. “And I’m the houseguest of Lady Beatrice.”
“How very generous of them. I’m not surprised, since they never had children of their own. Lady Beatrice is usually at all the parties, but I haven’t seen her recently.”
“I’m afraid she had a rather bad fall and is laid up. She won’t make any of the parties this Season.”
“That does sound serious.”
“She should be fine soon,” Millicent answered just the way her aunt had instructed.
“Please tell her I asked about her.”
“Yes, I will. I don’t want to keep you from the party. I appreciate your excellent advice about the dance cards, Lady Lynette.”
“You would have figured it out, and please call me Lynette. I’d like us to be friends.”
“I think it would be lovely for us to be friends, and please call me Millicent.”
“I shall. I’ve been around so long that I know everyone. I can tell you which young men to accept a second dance from and which to avoid. I know all the young ladies, too, but I’ll let you make up your own mind about them. Most of them don’t even realize I’m around.”
“I will be sure to solicit you.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled and Millicent realized that when she was talking to Lady Lynette she didn’t notice the birthmark on her face at all. She was an intelligent and cheerful young lady who appeared to be in need of a friend.
“I’ll look forward to meeting you again. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Millicent watched Lady Lynette walk away and thought that she would enjoy being a friend to her, but she hesitated over getting too involved with anyone. She didn’t think her aunt would approve. Besides, no one would ever be her friend again if it was discovered that she was gathering information on people to write about them in Lord Truefitt’s column. According to Aunt Beatrice, everyone in the ton wanted to read the tittle-tattle, but no one wanted to be written about in them. And Millicent had no doubt that members of the ton would never associate with anyone who wrote them.
“There you are, Millicent, dear. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Millicent turned at the sound of Lady Heathecoute’s loud voice, but instead of seeing the large woman, she looked straight into the sparkling blue eyes of the handsome gentleman she’d talked to last night. Her breathing kicked up a notch and her throat went dry.
The handsome gentleman had sought her out.
“May I present Chandler Prestwick, the earl of Dunraven.”
Five
“I do desire that we may be better strangers” or the Mad Ton Thief will not be found this Season. But not to worry, while we wait for the robber to be apprehended, we can expect wedding parties for Miss Watson-Wentworth and the Marquess of Gardendowns.
—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
Millicent curtsied low, hoping to hide the shock in her eyes and slow the hammering of her heart at hearing his name. Angels above, Lord Dunraven was one of the Terrible Threesome her aunt had warned her about. Not only was he one of the most eligible men in Town, he was one of the most scandalous, if what her aunt said was true.
He was just the kind of rake who had ruined her mother’s reputation. He certainly wasn’t the kind of man that Millicent should lose her senses over. And to think she had dreamed about him last night and had wanted to meet him again.
She rose from her curtsy determined to find a way to deny his strong appeal. “How do you do, my lord,” she answered, her tone cool now that she knew who he was.
“Lord Dunraven, this is Miss Millicent Blair, the niece of a dear friend from the country. This is her first visit to Town.”
His shining blue gaze brushed lingeringly down her face before lighting on her eyes. Unexpected pleasure filled her, and excitement at his presence grew inside her despite her resolution not to be affected by him.
“Welcome to London, Miss Blair. I trust you are enjoying yourself.”
“Very much, thank you. I find London and its people fascinating.”
“That’s good to hear. We do take great pride in our fair city. I’m sure Lady Heathecoute is seeing that you are attending the best parties and luncheons and taking calls from only the most respectable of gentlemen.”
Millicent glanced at her chaperone, who wore a delighted expression on her face. “You have no need to concern yourself on that account, sir. Her ladyship and the viscount have been dedicated to me.”
“No doubt you have many thank-you letters to write,” he said with a hint of a devilish grin attractively lifting one corner of his lips.
Millicent cleared her throat. He dared to bring that up, obviously in hopes of provoking her to blush. He was a rake of the highest order. The smile on his roguish lips and the sparkle in his intriguing eyes made it clear he was having a wonderful time at her expense. She should be outraged, but she was wasn’t. She was pleasantly puzzled by his attention.
“Yes. I believe I’m up to date on all my notes, Lord Dunraven. I’m flattered by your interest, considering I’m a stranger to you.”
“Not that we’ve now been introduced. With Lady Heathecoute’s permission, perhaps there’s room on your dance card for me, if it’s not filled with notes—I mean names.”
Millicent had to think quickly. The last thing she wanted was Lord Dunraven looking at her card. She didn’t want anyone looking at it.
No wonder he was considered one of the Terrible Threesome. He was a sca
ndalous earl. He was openly flirting with her in front of the viscountess at one moment and trying to get her into trouble the next—proof that the earl of Dunraven was not a man she could afford to have anything to do with—no matter how utterly charming he was.
“How very kind of you to offer, my lord, but I’m afraid I can’t accept any more invitations tonight. I believe her ladyship is eager for us to go on to the next party she has planned for us this evening.”
“Balderdash, Millicent, dear,” Lady Heathecoute cooed as softly as was possible given her strong voice. “We’ll forego the next party if we must. Have a dance with the earl. That’s what the Season is for, isn’t it? Dancing the night away. In fact, I believe the next one is about to start. Is this dance taken, dear? Let me see. Where is your card?”
Millicent clutched her reticule tighter and smiled sweetly at her ladyship. “Ah—no. There’s no need to look. I’m sure this dance is open.”
“Then it’s settled, if you are free, my lord?” the viscountess said.
“Indeed, I am.” He extended his arm for Millicent. “May I have this dance?”
Not trusting herself to speak, there was nothing for her to do but graciously agree with a slight nod. She lightly placed her hand on the crook of his arm and walked with him to the dance floor.
“It’s impolite to decline a dance with an earl,” he said.
Millicent turned to look at him and saw by the glint in his eyes and the half grin on his lips that he was teasing her, not reprimanding her for ill manners.
She lifted her chin a notch. “Not when the earl’s flagrant reputation precedes him.”
“So you’ve been in London long enough to hear all the tittle-tattle.”
“Surely not all there is, but enough to make me wary of you and a few others. Besides what I’ve heard about you, I have firsthand knowledge of your abilities.”
“My abilities, Miss Blair?” he questioned. “I’m not certain which abilities you are referring to.”
“Your roguish ones, sir.”