A Lady's Escape

by A. S. Fenichel

  “I wouldn’t mind if you came to see me from time to time regardless of your financial needs.” He stared into his teacup.

  Warmth spread through her heart. “Shall I come for tea on Fridays, Uncle Francis?”

  “I would like that.” His smile was worth anything.

  Swallowing down emotion, she said, “Then we will make a habit of it.”

  By the time Uncle Francis left, Millie was feeling brilliant. She had to admit that the idea of cleaning up and opening her parents’ country home was a tempting offer, but now she wanted to do other things.

  She had to marry Preston off to a perfect debutante who would make him happy. Ignoring her nausea, she jotted down ideas for giving Preston time alone with each of the ladies.

  * * * *

  By Monday Millie was feeling really good about everything in her life. She was thrilled Uncle Francis understood and supported her decision. Friday would be a perfect day to spend time with him while Preston was visiting his mother. That way her family obligation wouldn’t interfere with her work. Now that she knew she had the money to make her own way in the world, all she needed was more skills and perhaps a touch of confidence before she struck out to pursue her dreams.

  The carriage ride to see Preston was quiet, but her mind continued to process a hundred things until they pulled in front of the Middleton townhouse. The door opened, and Preston stood at the top of the stoop waiting for her. Her happiness faded, and a jumble of nerves roiled inside her. “Is something amiss?”

  Mrs. Whimple trotted up the stairs beside Millie. “Whatever it is, can we save it for inside the house? It looks odd, the duke standing atop the steps waiting for Miss Edgebrook. People will talk.”

  Face unreadable, he waited for them to enter before stepping back inside. “Of course, you’re right, Mrs. Whimple. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Millie handed her hat, gloves and pelisse to the butler. “What seems to be the problem, Your Grace?”

  He frowned. “I visited my mother on Friday. She will not be able to attend a dinner party on Thursday. I feel we must have the party tomorrow. I cannot exclude my mother. Besides, she will want to approve the women.”

  “I see no reason to be so distraught. Do you have a guest list?”

  He pulled a sheet of parchment from inside his morning coat and handed it to her. Ten names were scribbled on the sheet. “I didn’t want anything too grand, and this way my kitchen can handle the short notice.”

  The dim lighting in the foyer made it difficult to read the list. “Perhaps we might discuss this in the study, Your Grace?”

  “Of course.” Once they were inside, he turned to Mrs. Whimple. “Would you mind asking my housekeeper to make us some chocolate while Miss Edgebrook and I go over the invitation list?”

  Doris looked from Millie back to him. She stepped out of the study but left the door open.

  “Are you all right, Millicent?” He stood mere inches from her, and the scent of fresh wood and vanilla filled her senses.

  “I am fine. Are you well?” Lifting her hand, she almost pressed it to his cheek to check for fever. Then, realizing it would not be appropriate to touch him, she rounded the desk with the list.

  “I am well. I have been worried about you since the picnic, but I didn’t want to overstep my place by contacting you these last three days.” He spoked with such earnest, he looked more man than duke.

  Embarrassment sent heat up her cheeks. “I apologize for my behavior. It was a shock to see Gordon, but I assure you, I am fine. I hope you did not worry overmuch. I can take care of myself.”

  His lips twitched in the most delicious smile. “I am well aware that you can manage without any help, but we are friends, and I was worried.”

  “Then as a friend, you might have written me a note and eased your mind. Perhaps in the future you might consider that rather than worrying over nothing.”

  “Did you love him?”

  The question was so impertinent and unexpected, Millie knew her mouth hung open. She sat in his chair behind the desk. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

  Kneeling next to her, he took her hand. “It is not but tell me anyway. The idea that you loved him and he broke your heart haunts me more than I really care to admit.”

  “If Mrs. Whimple catches you kneeling at my feet, she will assume you are proposing. Please get up, Preston.” She failed to extinguish the panic building in her voice. Thankfully, he rose and sat in the chair alongside the desk. Lying did not come naturally to her, but she considered it. She could just repeat that it was not his business and refuse to speak. But he stared at her as if he had to know, and she was powerless against those eyes. She couldn’t lie. “I thought myself in love with him.”

  “And he hurt you.” Preston’s voice took on a dangerous monotone.

  Not having known him long, she didn’t know what to make of his change in demeanor. Why should she inspire anger or protectiveness or whatever this was? “Perhaps we would speak about something else. The guest list?”

  “What did he do?” The cutting edge narrowed, and if sparks could have flown from his eyes, they would have.

  The last person in the world she wanted to discuss Gordon Merrifield with was demanding she give intimate information. “It is quite personal, and I would rather not talk about it.”

  “Yet, I cannot continue our business until I know. You looked as if you were all alone in the world when I found you on that bench, Millicent. It ripped my heart from my chest. What did he do to you to have such an effect so many years later?” With each word, he leaned closer. Soon he would be kneeling beside her again.

  Getting up, Millie smoothed her skirts. The parchment with his guest list was clutched in her fist, and she put it on the desk. She crossed the room and closed the door. “I have no idea why you should want to know so much about my relationship with Gordon. He is a ghost from my past. That is all. I thought I was impervious to him, but found I am not. It is unfortunate you observed me in such a state but telling you more would make me very uncomfortable.” The tremble in her voice couldn’t be helped. She swallowed down any other emotion that tried to bully its way to the surface.

  Preston rose, crossed the room and didn’t stop until he was hovering over her with his hands pressed against the door on either side of her head. “I have no rational reason, Millicent. When I saw you so upset, I wanted to beat Merrifield to a pulp. I have spent the last few days considering how I can ruin him and his family for generations to come.”

  All she had to do was raise up on her toes and she could feel the touch of his lips. It was distracting. If his inquisition was less offensive, she might have been tempted beyond redemption. “I don’t know what to say. He is not your fight. I am nothing to you. An employee of your mother’s, nothing more.”

  He ran his knuckles down her cheek to her jaw, his eyes following the path to her lips. “So much more.” He pulled back an inch but kept the cage of his arms in place. “Tell me. I will never tell a soul.”

  “And will you promise to do nothing to harm Gordon or his family for generations?”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked, but he nodded.

  Insanity was the only explanation. “I was in my first season, and Gordon courted me. He said all the right things and arrived at all the right places. He was a welcome distraction for a girl who had lost her parents only a year before.” She liked the cold distance in her voice, as if she was speaking of someone else.

  “Did he offer for you?”

  “I was only sixteen, but I have a dowry, and that seemed enough. He read me poetry, and then one night in the garden, he took me to the greenhouse and told me he wanted to marry me. It all felt very romantic with the moon shining down on us through the glass.”

  Preston’s hands fisted, and the muscles in his neck bulged.

  “I suggest
ed we go and speak to my uncle, but Gordon thought it better to wait since we were barely out of mourning. He kissed me…” Her throat clogged, and the words would not come.

  With an almost animal growl, Preston pulled her into his arms and held her. “Did he make love to you?”

  Body shaking with thoughts she had suppressed for nine years, she pushed against Preston shoulders until he released her. She walked on wobbly legs to the desk and sat back down. “I would not describe it as such, but he ruined me. I thought he would marry me and all would be well. A few days later, he wrote, ending any hope of his following through on his promise.”

  “I will kill him.” Red-faced with rage, Preston was a terrifying sight.

  Yet Millie was not afraid of him. Even in his unreasonable fury, his touch had been gentle and caring. It struck longing through her heart, and the pain was unbearable. “That would be unseemly, and you promised. All of this happened nine years ago. I have recovered, and until now, I had told no one. He kept the secret, and there were never any rumors about my virtue, only my being tossed aside for a wealthier girl, whom he also tossed aside before the end of the season.”

  Closing his eyes, Preston breathed deeply until his skin returned to its normal shade and his eyes met hers. “Thank you for telling me. I do not feel better, but I needed to know if my suspicions were correct. I am infinitely sorry that they were.”

  “May I ask you a question now?” The world was settling back into place. It was the strangest thing but telling someone her deepest darkest secret actually made her feel better. A heavy weight lifted from her mind. The fact that she had told Preston of all people was a mystery. Perhaps because he asked and no one else ever had.

  “Ask me anything.”

  “Why was this so important to you?”

  Tenderness filled his eyes. “I wish you did not have to ask that question, Millicent, my Everton Lady. However, for now, let us just say, it is because I care.”

  Chapter 8

  Happy to not have to play hostess with Preston as host, Millie was glad to see Her Grace was already at the Middleton townhouse when she arrived an hour before the invitation stated. Millie would continue as an old friend of the family, and no one would question her presence at such a lofty party. “How do you do, Your Grace?”

  Phillipa was so elegant with her dark hair wrapped and curled high on her head. She wore a dark blue gown of satin with not a hint of lace and was the most elegant woman Millie had ever seen. “I am well, Miss Edgebrook. You look lovely. And Mrs. Whimple, you look very nice as well.”

  Doris’s grin spread across her face, and she curtsied before slipping down the servants’ stairs.

  Compared to Preston’s mother, Millie was a frumpy old maid in what had always been her favorite peach gown. Perhaps she would take her uncle up on his offer of funds to buy a new wardrobe. There was no need for her to continue to wear the pale blues, whites and pinks of a maiden. She was on the shelf and happy to be there. “Thank you, but I fear I will be terribly underdressed this evening.”

  “Not at all. You are as attractive as any of the women out this season.” She offered her arm, and they strolled into the dining room.

  Millie lost her breath. The dark wood walls gleamed to a high shine and reflected the light of dozens of candles in the crystal chandeliers. The table was draped in white and set with the finest china and sparkling goblets. The silver was polished to perfection, and flowers were placed in low vases along the center of the table. “It’s the most beautiful setting I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” Her Grace smiled. “You have done a good job in finding three suitable women for my son to choose from. I thought he would be resistant, but it seems that whatever you suggest, he is amiable.”

  “I don’t know about that, but he does seem to be embracing the project.” Millie had no idea why she was blushing, but heat seared her cheeks at the thought of time spent with Preston.

  If she were honest, she was nervous about seeing Preston after her confession. For the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why she had told him her secret. All those years of keeping silent, and in a moment, Preston Knowles had convinced her to give him her trust.

  Turning, Phillipa smiled and walked into the parlor.

  Millie followed her.

  “The guest list is intriguing. I’m rather amazed you managed to get the invitations sent on such short notice.” She sat on the divan.

  Taking the seat across from her, Millie shrugged. “His Grace was adamant that the party be today so that you would be able to attend. I saw no reason to quibble. It would be unusual for a member of the ton to decline an invitation from a duke. And I had Mrs. Whimple to help me write out the invitations. She has lovely handwriting.”

  “We shall have too many women, but that is not unusual. I’m glad Preston had the good sense to invite a few of his friends. Mr. Laurent always keeps a party lively. Have you met him?”

  “I have not had that pleasure, Your Grace.” Millie was curious about the merchant who was so close to a duke.

  “You will like him. His father is the most charming person I ever met, and his son is the same.” Phillipa’s gaze grew distant while she was lost in memory.

  Preston appeared in the doorway. “He did not manage to charm you, did he, Mother?”

  She chuckled. “Of course not. Your father would have killed him regardless of how long they had been friends. Besides, Pierre Laurent is deeply in love with Marie. He only plays at charm.”

  Entering, Preston walked to his mother and kissed her cheek before turning toward Millie. “How are you this evening, Everton Lady?”

  “I am quite well, thank you, Your Grace.”

  He nodded and walked to the table where he poured a glass of brandy. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?”

  “I would like a sherry, please.” Phillipa said.

  “Nothing for me, thank you. May I ask, are Mr. and Mrs. Laurent in London as well as their son?”

  Phillipa took the glass of sherry from Preston. “No. They live in the country outside of Paris. I may go and visit in a few months. Perhaps for the summer months. I would like that. What do you think, Preston?”

  “I think that if you wish to see Marie and Pierre, I will deliver you to France.” He sipped his brandy and sat in the chair next to Millie.

  “It is nice to have a few moments to ourselves before the guests arrive. Don’t you think so, Preston.” Phillipa smiled and looked at Millie, despite addressing the question to Preston.

  If she wasn’t a guest, what did that make her? Family? No. Why would the Dowager Duchess of Middleton ever think of Millicent Edgebrook as part of her family? She must have just meant that it was quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak.

  His warm smile filled the room. “It is pleasant, and I wish the evening would remain exactly so.”

  Millie kept her thoughts to herself. Confusion spiraled through her as to why they were treating her as one of them. She was little more than a servant. Yet, she had become part of an intimate group while sitting there in the parlor with the Knowleses, and she hated for it to end.

  When the first knock signaled the arrival of the guests, Preston and his mother went to stand in the foyer and greet everyone, while Millie kept to the shadows.

  Lady Helena Buckbrush arrived with her mother, the Duchess of Flintmore, in tow.

  Once everyone had arrived, Millie surveyed the guests enjoying refreshments in the parlor. Of course, both Miss Tatham and Lady Beatrix had arrived. Bea with her mother and Miss Tatham with a chaperone who disappeared down the servants’ steps just as Doris had. Elinor and Michael Rollins, the Duke and Duchess of Kerburgh, were ensconced in a corner with Preston, laughing and chatting. Millie had thought them an odd addition to the party, but Preston insisted they were among his closest friends, and since they were in town, they must be i
nvited.

  If Scarlett Finch showed up, Millicent was leaving. She laughed to herself.

  Jacques Laurent and Miles Hallsmith rounded out the party. Mr. Hallsmith had rust-colored hair and laughing blue eyes, while Jacques was dark and exotic with long hair and a wicked smile.

  Just as she thought of him, Jacques turned and strode toward where she was hiding in the furthest corner of the room behind the pianoforte. “Why don’t you join the party, Miss Edgebrook?”

  Since he already knew about her association with the Everton Domestic Society, it was not necessary to lie. Millie kept her voice low. “I’m not really a guest. I think it best if I remain away from the group. It gives me less need to tell lies about my purpose.”

  “I disagree. You are a guest of His Grace and as an old friend of the family should enjoy the company of the entire group.” He offered his arm and escorted her to the center of the room where Miss Tatham, the Duchess of Flintmore and Miles Hallsmith were discussing a bit of gossip from the morning paper.

  Miss Tatham smiled at her. “What do you think, Miss Edgebrook. Is Sarah Pinehurst ruined for all time or will she recover?”

  Stomach knotted, Millie stayed her emotions on the subject of ruined women. “I’m afraid I did not chance to see the bit of news you’re speaking about. Though I think often times these reports are exaggerated. I hope the lady will recover.”

  The duchess narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “A young woman must be vigilant to not put herself in a position where she might be the subject of such reports. If Miss Pinehurst had behaved as a lady should, her name would never have appeared in the morning paper.”

  Her head screamed at her to keep quiet, but her mouth opened nonetheless. “Perhaps there was nothing else to write about and a minor event was turned to more for the sake of our entertainment.”

  “That is just what I think,” Wilhelmina said, clapping and grinning. “What is written in the news is often rubbish.”