A Lady's Escape

by A. S. Fenichel

  “It is done, Preston. I expect you to make an effort to assist Miss Edgebrook in finding you a perfect duchess. I will be vexed if I hear that you have been ungentlemanly.”

  He took a breath that expanded his chest, and Millie pondered if his morning coat would survive the effort. With a long exhale, he said, “I shall be the perfect assistant, Mother.”

  Smiling, Her Grace rose. “Excellent. I will leave the two of you to your quest. Come to tea on Friday, Preston?”

  “Of course.” He stood, kissed her cheek and saw her to the parlor door.

  “Be sure to give Miss Edgebrook the list I made.”

  “Yes, Mother.” He closed the door behind her.

  “You have tea with your mother every Friday?” Millie asked. Why, she had no idea. She hated small talk, yet she hated the silence in the room more.

  He narrowed his gaze and sat. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  “No. It’s very nice. Many men of the ton are less dedicated to their mothers.” What in the world was she blathering on about?

  “I get along quite well with Her Grace, and until this little stunt of hers, I never have had cause to complain.” He wiped his palms on his breeches and crossed to the window near Mrs. Whimple. “Who are you?”

  Doris squeaked in distress.

  Millie sprinted to her side. “This is my companion, Mrs. Whimple. She will act as chaperone during this assignment. There is no need to be sharp with her.”

  Eyes closed, he took another of those long breaths. When he opened his eyes, a calm had settled in their dark depths. “I apologize again. This morning has unsettled me. I do not need help to find a wife. It should be a simple enough thing.”

  His height made her feel small and insignificant. Still, she was an Everton Lady and she would keep her chin up and do her job. “Yet I am told you have been thwarted twice. Is that correct?”

  “I cannot be the first man to have been told no when he proposed.” He strode across the room and moved a black pawn on the chessboard.

  Following him, she couldn’t help her empathy for his embarrassment. She stared at the board and countered his move. “Not the first nor the last, Your Grace. Though it is odd for a duke to be turned down. Would you mind telling me what the lady’s objections were?”

  He knocked over the king. “You have me in five. Which one do you want to know about?”

  “The latest would be a good start. Who were you playing with?” She sorted the black pieces back to the start.

  Preston did the same with the white pieces. “Avery Bastion, but I doubt he would have seen that move you just made. I assume you play, Miss Edgebrook.”

  Holding the king in her hand, she rubbed her thumb over the smooth alabaster and remembered. “My father taught me a long time ago. It has been some time since I’ve played.”

  “Perhaps we might have a match while you are in my mother’s employ.” He watched her as if looking for a weakness he might pounce on.

  Swallowing, she nodded. “Her Grace mentioned a list?”

  He placed the last pawn in the appropriate square and stepped back. “Yes, mother made a list of eligible ladies who are out this season. She thought it might be a good place to begin.”

  “How do you feel about her list?”

  “I didn’t realize my feelings were taken into account in this endeavor.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

  Sympathy for him was not against any Everton rule. “I know it seems that way, Your Grace, but this is really for your benefit. Your mother must care for you very deeply if she came to Everton rather than risk you being hurt yet again.”

  “Perhaps you are right.”

  Progress. “May I see the list?”

  He pulled a folded piece of parchment from inside his coat and handed it to her.

  The names on the list were all daughters of dukes, earls and one or two viscounts. Millie didn’t know any of them well. She sat on the divan. “Tell me about Lady Scarlett.”

  “She is the daughter of the Duke of Craftbrook.” He sat across from her, a wary expression pulling his brows close.

  “I know that much. Tell me how long you courted her and why you asked her to marry you.” It was important to establish where he had gone wrong in the past and not continue on the same path. Despite her assurance that men were often thwarted, it was unusual for a duke. There must be a reason.

  “I courted her for two months and three days. She seemed amiable, and I liked her. We danced well together, and she enjoys the theater, though her taste is questionable. She was a suitable match, and my mother approved, as did her parents.”

  “It sounds as if you had it all figured out.” She bit her tongue against telling him it sounded terribly boring and unromantic. She didn’t manage to keep it from her tone.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “This is how these things are done, Everton Lady. You should know that, or you will be of little use to me.”

  Groaning, Millie shook off her romantic notions. “What reasons did the lady give for refusing?”

  All the energy drained from his expressive eyes. “She told me that she was in love with another and would not marry until he returned from the Continent. Her parents apologized but upheld Lady Scarlett’s wishes rather than have their only daughter unhappy.”

  “In all the time you courted, she never mentioned that her interests lie elsewhere?” Annoyance with Scarlett Finch churned inside Millie.

  He shook his head. “She did not share that information with me, though it did not seem a surprise to Her Grace, the Duchess of Craftbrook.”

  “I assume you outrank this lover of hers.”

  “Indeed. He is a viscount, but the lady will marry no other, so I am back on the marriage block and you have your work cut out for you. They have dubbed me ‘the unmarriageable duke.’ Did you know that?”

  “The ton is a cruel lot, Your Grace. You know that as well as I. Why don’t we go through the list and see what you think of the ladies your mother has approved?” Millie felt bad for him and wanted to make sure he ended up happy with the woman they chose. It was going to take some research, but she would start with his opinion of the lot.

  She opened the parchment. “Annabeth Perkins.”

  “Too thin.” Preston stared at the wall of windows.

  “Mary Allerbaster.”

  “Too dumb.” His eyes rolled.

  “Lilith Montrose.”

  “Her teeth are too big.”

  “Good lord, Your Grace.” Millie had to hold back laughing. It wouldn’t do to encourage him. “Bernadette Dramfield.”

  “They call her BeBe, and she is too ridiculous to mind. I cannot spend my life with a woman named BeBe.”

  The laugh escaped. She refolded the parchment and tucked it in her satchel with the Everton Companion. “I see. Perhaps we are going about this in the wrong manner.”

  “What do you suggest, Everton Lady.”

  “You do remember my name, Your Grace? I will not have to hide feebleness of mind, will I?”

  When he smiled, the corners of his brown eyes crinkled in the most endearing way and his entire face changed from daunting to warm and inviting. It would not be hard to look at the Duke of Middleton every day. “I know your name, Miss Edgebrook, but I prefer Everton Lady.”

  Shaking off the delightful prickle of anticipation seeing Preston daily created, Millie put her mind to a new plan. “I suggest we attend a few events and find ladies you find little fault with. The Hanson ball is in two days. I assume you have an invitation.”

  “Probably. I did see an invitation on Saturday for the Rollins picnic.”

  “Perfect. We shall attend both and see who we find to interest you.” While she admired her progress, she hadn’t noticed he was staring until she looked up a few moments later. Panicked, she asked, “Is there dirt o
n my face?”

  That smile again. “How did you land at the Everton Domestic Society, Miss Edgebrook?”

  Perhaps it had been a vain hope that the Duke of Middleton wouldn’t care about her past or her future. Foolish to think she could do her work without anyone knowing or wondering about her personal life, she cringed inwardly. “I don’t see how that is important. What is relevant is that I am an Everton Lady and have a job to do. I shall do it to the best of my ability. I can assure you of that, Your Grace.”

  “I have no doubt.” He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward with his chin on his fists. “I just cannot understand why you are not married. You are quite nice to look at, and your father was a gentleman. Your uncle is a bit notorious with his constant foibles in science. Still, you are intelligent and probably accomplished. Why did you never marry?”

  If it were not for her position at Everton’s being at stake, she would have run from the house and never come back. Calling her uncle notorious was bad enough, but saying the rest was intolerable. “You told your mother you would be a gentleman. Nothing about what you just said was kind.”

  He sat back and cocked his head. “I do not mean to be cruel. I am merely curious as to how a lady, such as yourself, ended up in service. Surely, it is not out of need. I cannot imagine your parents left you nothing. Has that uncle of yours depleted your funds?”

  Crying was out of the question. “My funds are none of your business, and if you say anything against my uncle, I’ll…”

  “I seem to remember years ago you were a diamond of the first water, Miss Edgebrook. Wasn’t Gordon Merrifield in the mix? He is a man of means. Did he make you an offer?” Preston stared at a spot over her shoulder, with his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight.

  Millie stood. Her last nerve had been tripped, and she would stand for no more. “Your Grace, that is quite enough. My personal life is of no concern, as it will not help us reach our goal. You may pick me up at Everton House in two days for the Hanson ball. Good day.”

  Her raised voice stirred Mrs. Whimple from her chair.

  Preston stood, wide-eyed, and bowed.

  Unable to get out of the townhouse fast enough, Millie nearly forgot her pelisse, and only the butler calling her back stopped her. Once properly clothed, she ran down the steps and leaped into the carriage. Then she had to wait while Mrs. Whimple was handed up.

  “It was going so well.” Millie said to herself.

  Mrs. Whimple adjusted her hastily donned cap. “Right up until your past caught up with you. Never mind, dear. If I may say so, I don’t think he had any idea he was offending you. He looked positively shocked when you jumped up and set him in his place.”

  “Oh no, did I?” She told herself she would be bold but sweet, but her past had done more than catch up. It had rolled over her like a giant boulder. “Well, I’m not giving up. I can do this, Doris. We shall have our adventure, and I will be a really good Everton Lady.”

  “That’s the spirit, miss.”

  If only she felt as sure as she sounded.

  Chapter 3

  Still put out by his mother’s high-handed move, Preston had to admit Miss Edgebrook had handled him nicely. She might have run out or gone into a rage when he’d become incensed by her presence. Instead, she’d formed a plan to find him a wife. Having not intended to insult or upset her with his memories about her first season, he’d been shocked when she left in a snit.

  His carriage rolled to a stop in front of Everton House. The neighborhood was not as fine as where he lived in Mayfair, but Soho Square was quite respectable. This Everton Domestic Society was an intriguing establishment. Imagine, a group of fine women past their prime yet above going into regular service, finding approved employment. It must be looked upon as a great thing. He reserved his opinion until Millicent Edgebrook proved herself useful.

  The front door opened before he’d reached the top step. An ancient butler waited at the threshold. “Your Grace, Miss Edgebrook will be down directly. The company is enjoying refreshment in the great parlor. Would you like to wait or join them?”

  “I shall remain here if Miss Edgebrook will be ready soon.” Lord, he sounded like a snob. But mingling in a room full of spinsters was not his idea of a fine evening.

  “Gray, I am ready now. We need not delay His Grace.” At the top of the staircase, she was like an angel all in white with her blond hair twisted in an intricate design atop her head. Those crystal-blue eyes glowed, lit from within, and her snowy gown floated down from the band just under her full breasts. As she reached the lower steps, he was treated to the lovely view of her ample bosom stretching the limits of the daring neckline.

  Mouth dry, Preston stepped forward and met her at the base of the stairs. “You look quite lovely, Miss Edgebrook. I’m surprised.”

  “That was nearly a very nice compliment, Your Grace.” She stepped around him and took her pelisse and gloves from the butler. “Gray, is Mrs. Whimple ready to leave?”

  “She is in the great parlor, miss. Shall I call for her?” On his last legs, it was a miracle Gray had remained standing this long.

  Smiling at Gray, Millicent said, “I will look in.” She scurried down the hall out of sight, returning a minute later with the harried-looking Mrs. Whimple running behind.

  Preston couldn’t seem to say anything right when it came to this Everton Lady. He returned to the front door, and they left as soon as Mrs. Whimple pulled on her gloves and overcoat.

  William stepped down from the carriage and handed Mrs. Whimple up.

  Preston did the same for Millicent. “I did not mean to say that you could not be lovely. Only that I was surprised by the effort made for this ball.”

  Standing on the carriage step brought her to his eye level. “Your Grace, I am sure you are trying to be polite, but you are failing. May I suggest we stick to the business at hand and find you a wife?”

  Never in all his life had he had so much trouble speaking to a woman. Perhaps it was that she continued to surprise him at every turn, but something about Millicent Edgebrook turned him into a blithering idiot. “That might be best.”

  Inside the carriage, Mrs. Whimple huddled in the corner shivering.

  “William, can you throw down the fur?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” In a moment, William, cheerful and ruddy, handed a fur blanket into the cab.

  Handing it to Mrs. Whimple, Preston said, “This should help with the chill, madam.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I’m always cold.” She huddled under the brown fur.

  The weather was damp and cool, but not nearly cold enough for the thick fur. Millicent leaned back, her expression calm and her light pelisse apparently enough to keep her comfortable.

  When she had been at his home, he had thought her pretty, but dressed for a ball, she was stunning. He’d bumbled his compliment, but if he were honest, she took his breath away. Best not to be too honest.

  They arrived at the Hansons’ townhouse, and he handed the ladies down before offering Millicent his arm.

  She stared for a moment then said, “Your Grace, it is better if I follow you in. We would not wish perspective brides to think you taken or start a scandal about the two of us.”

  “I see your point, but I feel quite uncomfortable allowing you to enter unaccompanied.”

  Her smile could lift anyone’s spirits, and Preston was not immune. “I shall be fine. No one pays any attention to Millie Edgebrook. You may trust me about this.”

  “As you wish, Everton Lady.”

  Once they were inside and had been relieved of their outerwear, Preston said hello to their host and hostess. Sir Nigel Hanson and Lady Hanson were from old money.

  “I was so thrilled when I received your acceptance, Your Grace.” Lady Hanson’s face was heavily powdered, and the darks of her eyes were full of mirth and oblivion of indulgence, perhap
s opium, judging from the sickening sweetness of her breath.

  “It was gracious of you to invite me, madam. I’m sure it will be a singular evening.”

  “Who is with you, Middleton?” Sir Nigel asked.

  Perhaps she thought she would go unnoticed, but it was not the case. That dress alone would draw attention. Petite to be sure, but all her curves made Millicent stand out.

  Offering his hand, he drew Millicent forward. “This is Miss Millicent Edgebrook. Her uncle was feeling unwell this evening and asked that I accompany his niece to your fine ball. I assured him I would see she was safe throughout the evening, and of course she has Mrs. Whimple as her chaperone.”

  Lady Hanson narrowed her gaze but put on a grin. “I’m so pleased to see you, Miss Edgebrook. I hope your uncle’s condition is not serious.”

  Blinking several times, Millie relaxed with a long breath. “He will be fine, thank you. Just a small incident with one of his silly experiments. The damage was minimal, and His Grace has been a saint to assist this evening. I was so looking forward to your ball.”

  Millicent smiled the perfect fake smile of a debutante. Preston was certain they taught the look at finishing school for young ladies. He hated seeing it on this particular woman. She had been so genuine until that moment. “Shall we enter, Miss Edgebrook?”

  She took his arm, and they turned into the ballroom. She whispered, “You are quicker on your feet than I expected.”

  “Miss Edgebrook, that was nearly a nice compliment. Do you think you could wipe that expression off your face?” He didn’t know why he should care about her false countenance, but it nagged at him.

  Stopping, she looked up at him. “What expression?”

  At least now she was genuine with her open mouth and wide eyes. “The one all you young ladies use when you want to look pleasant and disinterested.”

  Her amusement began in those doe eyes a moment before her musical laughter reached her lips. “I didn’t know we all had such a look, Your Grace.”