“If you behave yourself, you shall be rewarded,” he relented. “But there will be no questioning of my directives and no talk of stocking frames.”
Her whole countenance radiated with joy. “Thank you, Alastair.”
The simple words undid his resistance, and he lowered his head to sweep his lips over hers. His arm circled her waist, and he crushed her still naked body to his. He could feel his hardness reviving as his senses took in the scent of her arousal, the sound of her breaths, and the pressure of her lips and body. He could take her again, wanted to take her again, but he would be a poor example if he could not retain the discipline he required from her. Letting her go, he stepped away before desire overcame him.
“That’s two you’ve let get away,” Thomas remarked.
Snapping out of his reverie, Alastair realized he had not attended to the tugging of his fishing pole. But a more troubling realization took hold: he was looking forward to his night with Millie. He wondered if he could provide her body even greater ecstasy.
The women were all having tea in the parlor when they returned. Henry went immediately to his grandmother to tell how he caught the largest fish of anyone, and Thomas was quick to point out that the fish would have gotten away if not for him. Mr. Abbott dozed in a chair beside the fireplace. Wilmington read the paper while Brewster penned a letter at the writing table. Kittredge sat beside Millie as she and Jason appeared to be discussing Gulliver’s Travels.
“I am glad to hear that Farnsworth is proposing a bill to discourage the destruction of textile machines,” said Wilmington. “This paper says that more of our military have been deployed to Lancashire following an attack on Burton’s Mill. The Luddites there have threatened the local magistrates with death if they attempt to interfere. Something must be done. Your meeting with Farnsworth is timely and commendable.”
Alastair scanned the room. His niece, Emily, occupied the settee nearest Millie. When Emily met his gaze, she blushed and quickly looked down at her embroidery. She had been casting glances at him since her arrival. He would not normally sit for tea, but he wanted to see how Millie would do in his company. He decided he would take his tea standing.
Millie had looked up when Wilmington spoke, and it seemed she had contemplated speaking, but when she saw Alastair, she remained mute.
“Are you well acquainted with Farnsworth?” Wilmington asked.
“I am not,” Alastair replied. “Millie, I will have a cup of tea, if you please.”
A few heads turned her way, for she was not sitting nearest to the tea table, but she rose and dutifully poured him a cup.
“But he asked you to meet with him on this important matter?”
“I have little interest in the subject, or in Farnsworth, and agreed to meet with him only because he once granted a favor to my father. I have very little to do with Parliament.”
Millie approached with his tea. “Alas, it is a duty you cannot eschew.”
“Why not?”
She seemed taken aback. “Because you sit in the House of Lords.”
“Not by choice.”
“It is both a responsibility and a privilege of the peerage.”
“I hardly deem it a privilege. You would not either if you had to sit through a session of Parliament.”
“I have read the speeches given by various members. It is a privilege no matter how tedious the task. Your decisions have repercussions on all the citizens—and even creatures—of the crown.”
“There are other men who delight in such responsibilities. I am not one of them.”
She furrowed her brow. “Have you no sense of noblesse oblige, my lord?”
He gave her a stern look. Did she not wish to earn her reward tonight?
“Millie!” Mrs. Abbott exclaimed, bewildered that her daughter dared to speak to him in such a manner. “Lord Alastair, your pardon. Millie, whatever are you on about?”
“Ha! Alastair? Noblesse oblige?” cried Louisa. “Clearly you know him little, Millie.”
“Louisa is right,” he said to Millie. “The care of the citizens is best left to others more capable than I.”
But Millie was not prepared to relent, and he found the depth with which she stared at him to be unsettling.
“You delight in being seen as heartless,” she said, “but I think we would be gravely mistaken to despair of you so easily.”
He returned her stare. “You pay too much heed to my aunt and her opinions of me. She is prejudiced in my favor.”
“And do you suggest that her hand in your upbringing was a failure?”
Someone in the room gasped. His jaw tightened but he managed to say, “Thank you for the tea, Millie. You may sit down.”
She blinked several times, unaccustomed to taking such direct commands.
“Millie, come!” her mother bade.
She did as told and went to sit beside her mother and Mrs. Cheswith, but she did not appear pacified.
“Millie is right to question you, Andre,” Katherine said after setting Henry off her lap. “It would seem you have no regard for my influence in your life.”
“If not for you, m’lady, I would be an even worse scoundrel.”
“Scoundrel or not,” said Wilmington, “it is right of you to meet with Farnsworth and support his proposal. An act of Parliament is required to repress machine-breaking and other violent acts against commerce.”
Alastair waited to see if Millie would speak, and she seemed to contemplate it.
“These rebels are as terrible as the colonists in America,” offered Caroline. “Who knows what other atrocities they, if unchecked, will commit?”
Millie could not resist. “Perhaps they would not resort to desperate measures if they could find the means to support themselves and their families.”
He could hardly believe his ears. Last night, she had sounded so eager to earn his approval. Had she forgotten that he had forbid further talk of this very subject? “By desperate measures, you mean the destruction of stocking frames?”
“Yes. If Parliament could see fit to repeal the Combination Acts or consider setting minimum wages, these workers would have more hope.”
He stared at her. There was both defiance and fear in her countenance. She had not forgotten. She had simply chosen to disregard him.
“It is not for Parliament to interfere with the economy’s natural order,” Wilmington responded.
“Workers are part of the economy as well, but our laws prevent them from seeking the most basic necessities. Costs have risen, but wages have not. These workers—and, yes, the Luddites among them—are being denied an ability to seek what every Englishman has a right to: life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”
Seeing that everyone was staring at her, she withdrew and said nothing more.
“Where does it say every man has such a right?” Wilmington asked.
“My dear Millie, you have an eloquence to your speech,” Katherine voiced, “and it is clear you have much charity in your heart. It is easy for our society to overlook the toils and sufferings of the lower classes.”
“She has always had much compassion for the poor,” Mrs. Abbott said gratefully.
Louisa shared a smirk with Caroline. No doubt they thought that Millie held such an affinity for the less well-off because her family was among them.
Millie avoided his gaze the rest of the time. Kittredge, who had witnessed the scene in silent amusement, approached him to inquire how the fishing went. Louisa persuaded Emily to play her best sonata on the pianoforte. Afforded some of the finest instructors, Emily played extremely well.
“Do you play, Miss Abbott?” Louisa asked when Emily had finished both a sonata and a prelude.
“Not well,” Millie replied. “We would benefit from having Miss Wilmington play another piece.”
“As well as Emily plays, she is happy to share the instrument. Though her instructor says he has no student who can accomplish a piece as well, and in so short a time as Emily, she is n
o glutton for attention. I bid you play a little, Miss Abbott.”
“Do play, Miss Abbott,” Alastair seconded when it was clear that Millie had rather not.
Millie glanced at him. After her earlier defiance, he did not expect that she would disobey him again. She went to the pianoforte and chose to play one of Mozart’s simpler sonatinas. Her fingers had not the agility of Emily’s, but she performed more than adequately.
“I think I shall collect some of the Michaelmas daisies for our dinner table tonight,” said Anne.
“May I join you?” Millie quickly asked.
“Mr. Kittredge, you have not seen the gardens,” said Katherine. “Perhaps you would care to assist the ladies?”
Kittredge bowed. “Certainly, my lady.”
Caroline, Emily and Mrs. Abbott decided to join Anne and Millie. Edward decided to take his boys out for a walk with the hounds, to be joined by Wilmington and Brewster. Louisa said she would rest a while in her room. Mr. Abbott continued to slumber beside the hearth.
“You could be kinder to Millie,” Katherine told him as they took their leave after all the others.
“Gifting her a dowry of four thousand pounds is not kind enough?” he returned.
“She would rather not have such a gift.”
“Am I to blame if she chooses not to appreciate it?”
“Is that why you seem cross with her?”
He nearly replied that it was because Millie had contravened him when he had required her obedience as part of acquiescing to her desires. Katherine would understand then. But, lest Millie had already confessed their nightly activities, he would not reveal them.
“She may not have the finest manners,” Katherine continued as they walked down the corridor, “but she means no disrespect.”
“Madam, perhaps you had not heard all that she had said, but she dared upbraid me for my lack of noblesse oblige before mine own family.”
And against my orders, he added silently.
“And that perturbs you, Andre?”
He said nothing at first, for he cared very little what others might say or think of his actions, but Millie’s words had rankled him. Feeling his aunt’s keen study upon him, he asked, “And you feel I deserve just such a scolding?”
“I do.”
“I receive enough from my sisters and you. Louisa, in particular, is fortunate I do not throw her out of my house.”
“And do you pay us any heed?”
“No, and you would now add Millie to your party. As a result of our encounter at Château Follet, she now thinks herself entitled to speak to me as she does.”
“She was never terribly afraid of you, and I think she will continue so, despite your best efforts to intimidate her.”
Ready to end the conversation, he said, “I know you have a fondness for Millie, but I would take care what thoughts and actions you encourage in her.”
“You promised, for my birthday, to look after someone.”
“And I have done so, but once Millie is married, my responsibility ends.”
“No wonder you gave her such a grand dowry.”
“Precisely.”
He bowed and took his leave. He had to consider what he would do with Millie tonight.
Chapter 19
“IN FRONT OF HER LADYSHIP, our host!” Mrs. Abbott cried for the third time as Mildred dressed for dinner in her chambers. Her mother had already reproached her after the tea, and again when they had finished collecting flowers. “Have you gone mad, Millie? Truly, I think there was not one who was not in horror at your behavior.”
Mildred hung her head. She regretted challenging Alastair before his family and had no excuse for her lack of manners. The morning had come with promise, for she had succeeded in not spending the night before, but she had ruined her prospects for a reward. His displeasure at her defiance had been obvious.
“I cannot fathom why you would assume such familiarity with the Marquess?” Mrs. Abbott wrung her hands. “I fear for your dowry and should not be surprised at all if he retracted the endowment. Oh, Millie, what were you thinking? How will you atone for what you did? You will have to ask his forgiveness. How I hope he shall forgive you! We must not lose the dowry.”
But not everyone had been horrified by her display during tea. During the walk in the garden following, Kittredge had approached her. “Miss Abbott, I must say I am in some admiration at your courage to speak with such frankness to Alastair.”
“It is not courage but foolhardiness,” she had replied.
“Nonetheless, there are few who would have dared question him as you did.”
“I regard the subject with some passion, but I should not have allowed my sentiments to overrule common courtesy.”
Before the dinner, Mildred had apologized to Lady Katherine, but her ladyship had dismissed her apology. “Goodness knows Alastair could use a little scolding.”
That Lady Katherine had taken no offense did little to cheer Mildred. When she saw Alastair enter the anteroom, her breath caught. But she could not pass the dinner without speaking to him beforehand. Collecting herself, she went to where he stood, conscious that many in the room were gazing upon her.
“My lord, I must ask your forgiveness for my earlier rudeness,” she began. “I ought not have spoken in the manner that I did, and my wrong is worse for having done so before your family.”
She would apologize for another reason as well, but she could not speak it before company. She hoped that her eyes conveyed what she could not say.
“I accept your apology, Miss Abbott,” he said after staring down at her for far too long than was comfortable for her. “I hope that you consider the discussion of stocking frames at an end?”
She hesitated but replied in the affirmative. She curtsied and returned to the other side of the room. Though he had sounded sincere in forgiving her, she thought she had best not put herself in his way.
A footman entered to announce that dinner was ready. Alastair presented his arm to his aunt, but Lady Katherine had hooked her arm through Thomas’s.
“It is not often I have the pleasure of having my grandson escort me to dinner,” her ladyship declared.
There was a brief moment of awkwardness as the others wondered how to proceed, as Lady Katherine had upended the proper order.
Alastair, unruffled, turned to Mildred. “Miss Abbott.”
Surprised, she could only stare at his proffered arm. Louisa’s eyes widened. Mildred was tempted to protest that he ought to escort Miss Wilmington, who had more standing, to dinner but that would only call further attention to the situation. She accepted Alastair’s arm, and Kittredge was left to escort Miss Wilmington.
Fortunately she did not have to sit near Alastair during the dinner and was near enough to Kittredge that she could hear his easy, affable talk of the theater and how Charles Kemble was to perform in a production of Hamlet. But Mildred could enjoy little else of the goose, baked turnips and pie. After dinner, she declined to join the rest in cards and chose to read in the corner of the drawing room, but the words blurred often. She wanted to ask Alastair’s and Lady Katherine’s pardons once more, though she knew the former would abhor the necessity of exchanging more words and the latter would deem it unnecessary.
“Papa, I have been the rudest of guests,” she said when her father had approached. The card tables were put away, and Miss Wilmington was to play the pianoforte again.
“Your mother told me what had transpired. As it cannot be undone, all that you can hope to do is ask their pardon, which you have done.”
“I must ask your pardon as well, for my want of manners must reflect poorly on our family.”
“You could not do worse than your Uncle Stephen.”
Her mother’s younger brother had run off with a married woman, but this offered little consolation to Mildred.
“I doubt Lady Katherine was much troubled by it.”
“Even if she were, she is too kind to speak of it.”
“Are you certain? She strikes me as a woman who is most comfortable with speaking her mind.”
Mildred had to agree that she saw and heard little from her ladyship that indicated she thought less of Mildred for what had happened. Nevertheless, she would not permit herself any leeway. “But I criticized her nephew before her family!”
“As for the Marquess, I doubt he heeds what anyone says of or to him. You could call him a blackguard or worse, and I doubt he would be disturbed in the least.”
“I think I would like a cordial,” Mildred started before her father could complete his sentence, for Alastair stood behind him
Mr. Abbott, seeing her widened eyes, turned about, colored, and stuttered, “Cordial, yes—yes, you, er, wished for a glass of—of cordial?”
With a curt bow to Alastair, Mr. Abbott hurried away. Mildred felt her heart sink. How many more times would her family offend Alastair? She found solace in the fact that the Marquess was to depart on the morrow.
“You may find page ninety-one instructional for your situation,” Alastair said, handing her a book before walking away.
She turned to the page he’d named and saw a note:
Midnight.
Your redemption awaits.
Her redemption. She both welcomed and dreaded it. But she would suffer whatever he intended. Closing the book, she looked at the clock. It was just past nine o’clock. She would pass the next few hours in anxious anticipation.
Chapter 20
A VIBRANT FIRE GREETED her as she entered the chambers at the appointed hour. Alastair, in his nightshirt and banyan, stood with his arms crossed before him. Without forethought, she knelt at his feet.
“Forgive me, my lord.”
“I accepted your apology already, Millie,” he said.
“That was for speaking before your family. I now ask your pardon for having defied your wishes.”
“You will atone for that tonight. And I had thought you intended to earn a reward.”
“I did have such intentions. But...I should have waited to voice my opinions to you in private.”
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