Preston’s heartbeat jumped up. Millicent was a vision running to her seat in a rose gown with her hair pulled back and her neck and shoulders exposed. He pondered if the skin behind her ear was as soft as it looked. Even at a distance, he longed to touch her, talk to her, and more.
Leaning forward, Elinor said, “Do you know that woman?”
Lying was out of the question. “Yes. That is Millicent Edgebrook.”
“I don’t know her, but of course I have heard of her uncle. She’s beautiful.”
He grunted and sat back as the maestro tapped his baton on the stand. Saved by the start of the performance.
* * * *
While the opera was spectacular, all Preston could think about was Millicent sitting in the dark below him. Did she like opera? How often did she come to the theater? Who were the people with her? Did Millicent Edgebrook have a lover. She was a grown woman, after all. She had her own money and her own career. He was a fool to think she had no love life to go along with that.
At the intermission, he excused himself from his box and searched the crowd.
Millicent leaned against the banister at the bottom of the stairs. The music of her laughter reached him before she caught him staring. “Your Grace?”
“Miss Edgebrook, I did not know you enjoy the opera.” It was insipid, but once he found her, he didn’t know what to say. The woman turned him into an idiot.
She turned to the woman next to her. “My friends, Sarah and Joseph Wattsby, invited me to join them. They are both experts with regard to music and opera.”
He greeted her friends, who both stared wide eyed. Mrs. Wattsby said, “How nice to meet you, Your Grace. Will you excuse us? Joseph, I see Lord Langdon. I know you’ll want a word with him.”
Mr. Wattsby narrowed his eyes. “Langdon?”
His wife elbowed him in the ribs.
“Oh, Langdon. Of course. Excuse us, Your Grace, Millie.” He took Sarah’s arm, and they crossed a few feet away to speak to a man with sandy hair and spectacles.
Millicent stared at her feet before gazing up at him, shyer than he’d seen her before. “I’m afraid they have the wrong idea. They are good friends, but our business together is confidential. I am not at liberty to disclose.”
“I appreciate that. I have only told my closest friend,” he admitted.
“It’s for the best. We wouldn’t want our association to become more fodder for the rumor mill.” She swallowed, and Preston found he couldn’t take his gaze away from her throat.
Lord, what was wrong with him? He hunted her down, and now he gawked at her like a schoolboy. Worse still, he could think of no reason for his looking for her. “You look lovely, Miss Edgebrook.”
“I am waiting for the ‘but,’ Your Grace.” She smiled, and the entire lobby grew brighter.
Heart in his throat, Preston returned her smile. “I have already apologized for my earlier transgressions. You are lovely, as I’m sure you know.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she looked away with an unfocused gaze. “I will be going to see Miss Tatham tomorrow.”
“Oh? For what?” The last thing he wanted was to talk about his prospective brides, but he didn’t want to walk away. Not yet.
She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I was thinking about what you said with regard to her character.”
“As I recall, you did not like my concerns.” He clenched his hand into a fist to keep from touching her and bringing that curl forward again.
With a nod, she said, “My reaction was unwarranted. If you felt something off, then I want to know if you were correct. I want you to be happy in your marriage. That is the point of my services, to see you find the right wife.”
It sounded like a death sentence, but perhaps that was just because he suddenly liked his matchmaker better than her choices for him. Giving himself an internal shake, he was reminded of his terrible record for picking a wife. Millicent might be lovely, and he was certainly attracted to her, but she was not the best choice for a duchess. His mother would not approve. “I appreciate your change of mind.”
“I will let you know if I find out anything of note.”
The crowd began to move toward the seats once again.
“I should go. Sarah and Joseph are waiting.”
He bowed. “Of course. I will see you for the picnic unless you have news that requires a meeting beforehand.”
With a curtsy, she turned and rushed off toward her friends.
Unable to move, he watched her until she disappeared through the doors. Only then did he climb the stairs back to his box.
* * * *
The second half of the opera was heralded as a triumph, but Preston remained distracted throughout. When he didn’t see Millicent as they exited, he was torn between relief and disappointment.
Jacques stretched his legs across the carriage. “I saw you talking to your Miss Edgebrook.”
If it had been anyone else, Preston might have been upset at the intrusion into his life, but Jacques knew everything about him and had since they were babies. “How did you know it was her?”
He shrugged. “A guess, but now I am sure. She is quite lovely. Why do you not pursue her if you like her?”
A knot formed deep in Preston’s chest. “She is not appropriate for the Duke of Middleton.”
“What about for Preston Knowles?”
The knot tightened. “His wants in such matters are irrelevant. The woman I marry will be the Duchess of Middleton. She has to have certain breeding and qualities for that role.”
“I am sorry for you, my friend.”
Releasing the emotion building inside him, Preston let his training to feel nothing settle in. “There is no need. We all have our duty to consider. I am afforded a very fine life through little of my own effort. It is my role to marry well and produce the next Duke of Middleton.”
Jacques shook his head. “I hope you break with that particular tradition. I fear it will leave my closest friend an unhappy man.”
Fearing the same thing didn’t change his life or his duty.
Chapter 5
Setting out from Everton House the following morning, Millie was prepared to find out all she could about Wilhelmina Tatham. Perhaps she had been too sensitive with regard to Preston’s apprehensions. After all, he should feel at ease with the woman he will spend the rest of his life with.
She’d spent hours making notes about each of the women. It was easy to write nice things about Lady Beatrix. She was a well-known and well-liked member of the ton. Her family was in good standing and above reproach. A bit of inquiring turned up information that Miss Tatham always took tea at Gunter’s in Berkeley Square on Wednesdays.
Gunter’s was popular for its fine pastries and interesting clientele. Millie spotted Wilhelmina sitting at a table in the corner. Two other women around the same age sat with her as well as a young man who appeared to be reading poetry.
Millie took a seat near enough to hear their conversation, but without blatantly joining their party. She ordered tea and settled in with her Everton Companion in front of her. It was best to look occupied rather than eavesdropping. Opening to the eleventh rule of conduct, which ironically read, Everton Ladies are inconspicuous, she ducked her head an inch lower. Indeed, she needed to be discreet.
The young man spouted terrible poetry about how blond hair glowed in the sunlight and eyes burned with fire.
The ladies muttered too low to be heard.
It was a great relief when he finished his poem. “I have written this just for you, Miss Tatham.”
“That was kind of you, Mr. Butterwick.” She sounded kind but disinterested.
“Shall I go and get you more tea?” he simpered.
One of the girls giggled.
“Perhaps you might call for a hack. I will need to leave soon.”
; It was unfortunate that she would leave before Millie heard anything of use. Still, she could always come back each Wednesday and hear more bits of conversation. Perhaps eventually she would get a feel for Miss Tatham’s character.
“He is a bore,” one girl said as soon as poor Mr. Butterwick sprinted out to find a hack.
“And that poetry is abysmal,” said the other.
Miss Tatham chuckled. “I know, but I don’t have the heart to send him away. He is a nice gentleman, and he only wishes to please. He knows I do not share his affection, but still he writes those poems. I think him harmless.”
“I don’t know how you stand it, Mina.”
The other girl snorted a laugh. “You are too good by far. I would have sent him packing long ago.”
With a smile, Wilhelmina stood and bid her friends goodbye. She walked to the counter and paid for her tea, passing just behind Millie. She stopped. “Pardon me.”
Millie wished she could climb under a table. Her first foray into subterfuge was a miserable failure. Plastering a smile on her face, she turned. “Yes?”
Wilhelmina cocked her pretty head. “I observed you the other night at the Hanson ball. You arrived with the Duke of Middleton.”
“Oh, yes. How do you do?” So far so good. Nothing incriminating there.
“Fine, thank you. I am Wilhelmina Tatham.”
Millie stood. “Millicent Edgebrook.”
“I do not mean to be rude, but is His Grace courting you?” Wilhelmina’s tone was light and inquisitive. No accusation or malice, she appeared to simply want to know.
Millie couldn’t blame her. “No. He is a friend of my uncle’s and accompanied me as a favor. My uncle was feeling unwell.”
The tiny lines of strain around Wilhelmina’s eyes eased just enough to show her relief. “I see. How kind of His Grace. I hope you will forgive my impertinence.”
“Not at all. May I ask, is His Grace courting you?” Millie completed the farce. Hopefully the deceit wouldn’t come back to haunt her. Preston had begun the falsehood, so it was best to stick to the same story.
A warm blush filled her face. “Not as yet, but I had hoped.”
It was a stunning bit of honesty from a stranger and one of society’s ladies.
Millie forced a smile. “I wish you good luck, Miss Tatham.”
“You say you are friends with him?”
Smelling trouble didn’t stop Millie from continuing. “Our families are friends.”
The poet returned, practically skipping. “I have found you a most excellent hack to take you home, Miss Tatham.”
All of Millie’s will did not keep a short laugh from escaping.
Even Wilhelmina hid a giggle behind her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Butterwick.” She turned to Millie. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Edgebrook. I hope we will meet again.”
“I hope so too, Miss Tatham.”
The Everton carriage returned for her thirty minutes later. Miss Tatham was unusually honest and kinder than most. She showed no signs of hiding anything. Still, it was a small sampling of her character. More investigation was needed. And the business with Mr. Butterwick troubled Millie. While kind not to shoo him away, it was also strange to keep him hanging on. She said he knew she had no feelings for him, but Millie speculated if that were true. The last thing Preston needed was another woman smitten with someone else.
The carriage brought her to the Jacoby residence. Millie had arranged to visit with Lady Beatrix. Bea was a lovely girl, but Millie wished to spend time with her and make sure nothing was missed. The townhouse was in a good neighborhood, and while not grand, it was respectable and well appointed.
The greeting was warm, and tea was ordered. If Millie wasn’t careful, she would grow fat from eating all day to keep up with His Grace’s prospective brides. They settled into a parlor at the front of the house. Decorated in rose and cream, every surface was draped in lace. Millie wondered how Preston would feel about his house being covered over with frills.
“It was so nice of you to call, Millie. I have hardly seen you since finishing school.” Bea poured the tea.
Taking the cup and saucer from her, Millie smiled. “After seeing you at the Hanson ball, I thought it might be nice to catch up.”
“I’m so glad you did. You were the talk of the ball, you know.”
A knot twisted in Millie’s gut. “I was? Whatever for? My uncle hasn’t created more than a smoke storm in weeks.”
Bea laughed gently. “Oh no, nothing about your dear uncle. It was because you arrived with Middleton.”
Even with the viable excuse, the incident had not gone unnoticed by the ton. Well, no matter. In a few months, he would offer for one of the women they picked and any thoughts of Miss Edgebrook, the unsuitable niece of the mad scientist, would fade in a few moments. “His Grace escorted me as a favor to my uncle. I had no notion anyone would care.”
“I danced with him.” Bea practically bubbled with enthusiasm.
“I noticed. Did you like him?” Suddenly her unease about being gossiped about shifted to an emotion she hadn’t even known she was capable of. Jealousy.
“He is pleasant, smart and kind. I was shocked when he asked me to dance. I’m not pretty enough for someone like him.” She sipped her tea and hid a blush.
“I’m sure if he asked you to dance, he thinks you pretty.” Millie had been more nervous about meeting Miss Tatham, yet it turned out Bea was the more difficult conversation. Pulling herself together as any Everton Lady must, she added, “You are lovely, and I would think your character would be attractive to His Grace.”
Bea put her tea down and ate a bite of a canapé. “But you know him. He is tall, handsome and powerful. What would he want with me, Millie? I’m just a plain girl with a title and dowry. He could do better. I don’t want to get my hopes up, just to have them dashed.”
Swallowing down an argument against encouraging Preston, Millie said, “I don’t think you should worry about it. Unless you fancy yourself in love with him over one dance, you are safe enough.”
A trill of laughter filled the room.
Millie cringed.
“I am not in love with him or anyone else. A girl would have to be daft to fall in love with any man. Even if you manage a marriage proposal, they will eventually take a mistress. Men cannot be trusted with one’s heart. I have seen too many of my friends fall prey to that trap. I hope to find a husband who will treat me well, and I will happily give him children. But I will never love anyone.”
Blinking, Millie couldn’t think of a thing to say in response. Bea was the kindest, sweetest girl she knew, yet this revelation didn’t coincide with that assessment.
“I’ve shocked you.” Bea leaned forward and took Millie’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
Shaking away her disbelief, Millie said, “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just surprised by your assuredness. How can you know you won’t fall in love? How can you be sure you control such things?”
Bea took up her tea, sipped it and put it back down. Sitting back, she frowned. “I believe women have long been under the wrong impression. We have been told we will love our husbands or we have read romantic novels or seen plays where people die for love. It’s all a bunch of bunk. I control my own heart, Millie. I will not be laid low by loving a man who will no doubt betray that love when he runs to the arms of another woman. Better to be practical and have a marriage where everyone is amicable and discreet.”
Bea’s point of view held a disturbing logic. Men did often take lovers. For that matter, so did women. If Millie had to guess, Lord and Lady Jacoby likely had a terrible marriage, and it was that which colored poor Bea’s fatalistic views. “I see what you mean. Perhaps a marriage of convenience is a better arrangement for everyone.”
“I will be happy to have a husband with whom I share mutual respect. Middleton s
eems just the right type. He doesn’t strike me as a man given to behavior that will embarrass his wife. I’m not certain why he has shown interest in me, but neither will I discourage him.”
Millie had gotten much more than she’d bargained for with the visit to Bea. She stayed for a respectable time, said her goodbyes, and took the carriage back to Everton House.
The foyer was a frenzy of excitement with ladies rushing down the steps and into the great parlor.
Gray held the door for her.
“What is happening, Gray? It looks as if the king has arrived at Everton House.”
Ever so slowly, he closed the door and took her outerwear. “Lord and Lady Devonrose have come to pick up Lady Chervil.”
Millie hadn’t spent much time at Everton House since her assignment began the day after she arrived. She’d spoken to a few of the other ladies, and they all spoke highly of Phoebe Flammel, the Viscountess of Devonrose. She was a most touted Everton Lady before marrying his lordship. “If anyone needs me, I will be in my room, Gray.”
“Yes, miss.”
Millie rushed to the stairs.
“Oh, Millicent. I’m so glad you’ve returned,” Lady Jane said. “Please join us in the parlor. I want you to meet her ladyship.”
Swallowing down her desire to run away from meeting the most famous Everton Lady, Millie pasted a smile on her face and handed Gray her satchel. “Will you have one of the maids put this in my room please, Gray?”
He gave a weak nod and shuffled down the hall.
Jane took Millie’s arm. “How did your investigations go today?”
“Not as expected, my lady, but it was most interesting.”
A footman opened the parlor door.
Millie didn’t know what she had expected, but Phoebe Flammel was a lovely redhead with golden eyes and a bright smile. She and Honoria were telling an animated tale about the moment they arrived at his lordship’s estate and the chaos that left them both stunned.
Markus Flammel laughed good-naturedly. He kept to the edge of the group, standing with Lord Rupert but never taking his gaze away from his wife.
As soon as the story was over, Jane said, “Lady Devonrose, I want you to meet our newest Everton Lady, Millicent Edgebrook.”
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