A Lady's Escape

by A. S. Fenichel

  After his own bath, he donned the ill-fitting clothes, but at least he was clean and so were the garments. One didn’t appreciate being clean until the mud and soot soaked into your skin with no way to get it off for hours. Only when he’d been in battle could he remember being so filthy for so long.

  Shaking off the cobwebs of memories better left behind, he went downstairs for supper. Millicent waited for him at a table set for two on the far side of the small dining room. With her hair down around her face, she wore the rose dress he’d purchased. He’d never seen her with those golden curls allowed freedom. He supposed her choices were limited until her belongings could be cleaned. Still, he loved the natural wildness of those curls and how they framed her heart-shaped face.

  The hall was full of travelers and locals eating and drinking with élan. It was a nice mix of classes and culture.

  He sat in the chair closest to her and moved it a few inches closer still. “Will Mrs. Whimple be joining us for the meal?”

  Shy-eyed, she fiddled with the lace on the rose dress he’d bought her. “No. She wanted to eat with William. I think she’s smitten due to him saving her and the others last night.”

  “Do you disapprove?” This shyness wouldn’t do at all. He longed for the fire he’d come to associate with Millicent.

  With a quick glance up, she shrugged. “Who am I to approve or disapprove? Doris can make her own decisions. She may be above his station by birth, but circumstances have brought them equality. I assume her ardor will flag in a day or two, but in the meantime, you will have to settle for just me to dine with.”

  Lord, how he wanted to kiss those pursed lips and make them soften until she whimpered against his mouth. “I believe I can survive the deprivation. May I ask you something, Millicent?”

  Finally, she looked at him. “Of course.”

  “Are you being shy because you are tired, or are you embarrassed by what happened in the barn?” Perhaps a wiser man would have let her be, but he wanted his Everton Lady, with all her vim and vigor.

  Her eyes narrowed, forming a crease, and she put her hand in her hair. “I suppose it is the latter. I would not wish for you to think such an event could happen again or that I am in the habit of sleeping with or kissing men in dark places.”

  Despite her hushed tone, he heard every aggravating word. “I never thought you were. However, part of what you said is not possible.”

  Her hand stilled its fidgeting. “Which part.”

  Leaning in until his lips were an inch from her ear, and he knew she could feel his breath on her lobe, he said, “I do think it will happen again, Everton Lady. I think that with every fiber of my being.”

  A gasping breath drew her breasts up and distracted him. “Well, it can’t,” she said.

  “Why not?” Dukes could not afford to lose their senses, and he’d spent years keeping his calm under extraordinary circumstances. This was the hardest of memory.

  “Because you are going to marry one of the ladies on our list. We have a plan, and we are going to follow it through. I have a commitment to you and your mother as well as the Everton Domestic Society. I have a job to do, and you need a wife who is worthy of being the next Duchess of Middleton. And more to the point, I will not be anyone’s mistress, not even yours.” Panic laced her words.

  Her speech had fallen on deaf ears until the last bit. It was unfathomable that she thought he would want her for a mistress. Yet there it was. This was a battle that had to be fought, but not in the middle of a crowded dining room. She wanted him, of that he was sure. Escaping her uncle had brought her to her current occupation, and she had dreams she did not yet trust him with. He would gain her trust and learn all her secrets before he convinced her to be his wife. “I think we should eat our supper and speak of other things.”

  Hands back in her lap, she picked her chin up. “Very well. What do you wish to talk about?”

  “Tell me about your childhood.” He pictured her in curls of gold, running around in the country.

  “There’s nothing to tell. You already know. My parents died when I was fifteen, and I’ve lived with my uncle ever since.” She stopped talking as the girl came over with two bowls of stew and a board with crusty bread that filled the air with warm spice and yeasty goodness like it just came out of the oven.

  Once the food was served, Preston cut the bread and handed Millicent a piece. “Yes, but what was your life like before your parents’ tragic death? Where did you live, and were you happy?”

  She took a bite of stew, and her eyes closed as she chewed. “This reminds me of my childhood. The cook in the country made a stew whenever beef was available.” She met his gaze. “Why do you want to know?”

  He forced a smile. “When I was a boy, the year before I went to school, my parents took me to Bath for one lovely summer. We attended the theater several times, and I was allowed to go as long as I behaved. We watched the circus, drank the waters, and it was a very happy time. My father was often away in London, but that summer he spent with us in Bath. I remember my parents holding hands as we walked down a lane. It’s the only time I ever remember them showing affection in public, though I knew they loved each other.”

  “How did you know?” Millicent had put her spoon aside, her expression filled with longing.

  Pushing aside his desire to pull her into his lap and kiss her until she relented, he focused on his memories. “At home, in Brookhaven, they were always touching. Nothing overt, my father often touched Mother’s shoulder or ran his knuckles down her cheek. He often kissed her on the forehead. Their marriage was arranged, but they had a genuine affection for each other. Mother told me after he died that when they married they were both terrified that they would never get along. At first, they became friends, and over the course of a year, they fell in love.”

  She brushed a tear from under her eye. “That’s a lovely story.”

  “Were your parents in love?”

  “I never saw them kiss, but I think so. If not, I think they liked and respected each other. They loved me, of that I’ve never had any doubt.” She ate a few more bites but then put her spoon down.

  “You’re not hungry?” At the start of the trip, her appetite had been better.

  She shook her head. “I’m tired.”

  She opened her mouth as if to say more but closed it again without comment. He longed for a time when she would share all her thoughts with him and hold nothing in reserve. “Were you a happy child?”

  With a nod, she said, “We stayed in the country most of the time. Uncle Francis came to visit quite often, and he doted on me. He always brought me trinkets. Nothing normal; a compass, a rock from the sea, or a cocoa bean from Brazil. I don’t even know where he got some of the things he brought me, but they always came with a story about the significance. When he brought the rock, he explained how the ocean had tumbled the rock for thousands of years and made it smooth. He said that if it had been left in the sea, it would have eventually become part of the sand. I loved those stories. My parents adored him even though he was like another child to care for. He would come and tell Father all about his latest invention or experiment, and Father would caution him to be careful. Of course, he never was. He spent a year with us once when he’d nearly died in an explosion. He was burned, and his ribs broken. He arrived in a long carriage like the kind they bring out the dead, and he had to be carried up to his room. It was terrifying, and they wouldn’t let me see him. I slept on the floor outside his room until he was well enough to see me.” She wiped her tears away and smiled with the memory.

  Preston squeezed the hand that remained in her lap but released it after an instant. “You don’t like to talk about your parents?”

  “No. It makes me sad. You don’t seem to mind speaking of your father.” She cocked her head. Adorable.

  “I miss my father, as I’m sure you miss your parents, but t
he memories of him are a gift, and I find joy in talking and thinking about the time we had together. Just because I wish it had been longer does not taint the memories for me.”

  Millicent closed her eyes and breathed in. “My father smoked a pipe in the evening. The warm scent used to fill the parlor. Mother would do embroidery by the fire. She put me in her lap and let me watch her make the most beautiful designs.” After a long pause, she smiled, and Preston’s heart expanded until he thought it might burst from his chest.

  “Well done,” he said, watching her eyes light up and wishing he could make her look that happy every day.

  They finished their meal, and he escorted her to her room, where Mrs. Whimple was already waiting to help her get ready for bed. Beauty, looking clean and brushed, trotted over to the door for a pet before he said good night and waited for them to bolt the door.

  In his own room, he warred with frustration and desire. How could he make her see that no other woman would ever make him happy? He didn’t care about the Everton Domestic Society rules and suspected those were not the only things holding Millicent back.

  Sleep wouldn’t come as he worried over her safety and that of his servants. The previous night had been a horror for each of them, and regardless of fault, they were under his protection and could have been hurt or killed.

  A tap at the door startled him to sitting. He pulled on his breeches, went to the door and opened it. Millicent, in a voluminous white nightgown and tears on her cheeks, stared at him in terror. Beauty at her side, she waited silently.

  Chapter 13

  Millicent had lost her mind. It was the only explanation for having walked down the hall in her borrowed nightgown and knocking on Preston’s door. Yet here she stood looking at him in the open doorway. His bare chest heaving with deep breaths as if he’d run a mile to reach the door. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

  Scanning the hallway behind her, he opened the door wide and stepped aside for her to enter. “I wasn’t asleep. Why are you crying?”

  Beauty followed her in but curled up in the corner and returned to her sleep.

  He brushed Millicent’s tears away with his thumb and let his hand linger on her cheek.

  It was instinct to lean into the touch. So safe and right and yet so wrong. “I’m afraid to close my eyes.”

  He nodded, took her hand and led her to the bed. He sat on the edge, so she did too. “I understand. You should never have had to endure the horrors of last night. I imagine it will linger with all the survivors for a long time.”

  “When I close my eyes all I see is those people running and pieces of buildings falling from the sky and that poor man in the mud. I couldn’t help him. You don’t want me to help you find a wife. Maybe I can’t help anyone. Maybe it’s all just a dream that I made up in my head and can never come true.” She buried her face in her hands. Everything she’d ever wanted was falling to pieces around her. If she couldn’t manage her first Everton assignment, she would get no more. She would fail. Unbearably, her life had fused with the explosions and death of the previous night, and she was helpless to change anything.

  Easing her hands away from her face, he took them in his. “Millicent, I don’t know exactly what you’re talking about, but more than the incident of last night seems to have spurred this hysteria. Why don’t you tell me what you mean by the dream in your head?”

  His brown eyes sparkled in the firelight from the hearth, and worry lined his forehead. Telling him her dreams was foolish. He would laugh at her and never take her seriously again. It was how everyone reacted to a woman wanting more than a husband, money and children. “I have no desire to get married and live in England for the rest of my life, raising children and walking three steps behind a man.”

  Eyebrows raised, he said, “Any man who would keep you back is a fool who doesn’t deserve you.”

  The way he said it, she almost believed him. But men often said such things in the dark when they thought sex might be in the offering. Sex had ruined her life when she was too young to know better. However, pleasure lurked in Preston’s eyes, and it was difficult to resist the temptation to have one night to savor for the rest of her life. One beautiful affair that could carry her through the lonely times. “I am no fool. Men only want women for two reasons, and usually not the same woman for both.”

  “And what reasons are those, Everton Lady?” His voice edged with annoyance.

  “Sex and children. We are nothing more to the masses. Men cannot even be blamed for their low opinions, as women are equally guilty of thinking themselves little more than brood mares or whores.” Oh lord, she already said more than she wanted, yet she would not care. He asked, and she was tired and scared, and it was all too much to hold inside.

  “You think rather meanly of people, Millicent.” He rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb. The light circle relaxed her as if he caressed her entire body all at once.

  She took a deep breath. “I have observed this part of our nature for nine years. I know what I know. Rarely do people choose to marry someone out of respect and love. Men marry for money and status and to breed sons. Then, they take a mistress for pleasure.”

  “I would not take a mistress.” His harsh whisper sounded more dangerous than if he had yelled down the building.

  His lie forced her to pull her hand away; she clasped them together in her lap. Touching him was not helping her composure. “You will as soon as you realize your wife is unable or unwilling to give you the pleasure you seek. I have seen most of my friends married off to this lord or that, and only one is happy in her marriage. Only one out of the seven marriages I’ve inadvertently arranged is a friendship as well as love match. Only one!”

  It took her several gasps to get her temper under control. “Sarah and Joseph have a brilliant relationship, but it is rare. I’d rather follow my own dreams than have anything less.”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked, but his eyes widened. “What dreams are those?”

  His interest was obvious, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she was harsh on his sex or for another reason. Standing, she crossed her arms over her chest and walked to the window. The street below was dark and the residents of Pendleton all in their beds as she should be. Yet, here she was, in a man’s bedroom divulging secrets she only told her closest confidants. It was foolish. “I will travel and see where I can help. I heard much of Portugal, and parts of Spain are in a bad way after years of war. I think I can help. There are other places as well. I want to see the world and be of use to those in need.”

  While she waited for him to laugh at her, he shifted behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. His lips pressed to the space between her shoulder and neck exposed by the ill-fitting nightgown. “It’s a noble goal.”

  “You think I’m ridiculous.” Her heart raced, and unease built in her stomach.

  “Why would I?” His breath low and warm on her ear sent a pleasant chill down her spine and made her clench her thighs.

  “Because I’m a woman with goals that do not conform to society’s rules.” Unable to help herself, she leaned back against his hard chest and let his warmth infuse her.

  “I am trying not to become angry with you, Millicent. I do not appreciate you comparing me with the general populace. I know what you think of my sex. You have made that quite clear. But you also have come to know me over these last few weeks and we have become friends. I have never treated you with anything but respect and admiration.” A low hum of tension rang in his voice, though his hands were gentle as they rubbed just under her breasts, driving her mad with want.

  “Yet it is clear you want more from me than friendship.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I do. I won’t lie about that or anything. I want you as I have never wanted anyone in my life. For that moment that I thought I lost you last night, I wanted to die, and nothing could console me. I cannot expla
in my feelings, and I know you say I must marry one of the women on your list, but I want you, Millicent. I want to make love to you and show you that a man can give pleasure as well as take it. Kissing every inch of your soft skin until you beg for me to stop will give me the ultimate pleasure. I dream of how you’ll age. How elegant you’ll be when you’re older. I long for all of you, my Everton Lady.”

  Thighs on fire, she made her decision and turned into his embrace. “I will spend the night with you if you want, Preston, but nothing more. My plans will not change. I have no desire to be your mistress, and I certainly don’t intend to watch while you make a family with an appropriate bride. I may not be pure, but I am a lady.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed several times before he spoke. “I would never try to make you my mistress. Your offer for tonight is a generous gift, and I do not have the will to refuse. I should, but I cannot. So, if you are unsure in any measure, you should tell me, and I will hold you until you can sleep and nothing more.”

  Pulse pounding at a gallop, she ran her thumb along his bottom lip. He sucked the digit into his mouth, and she gasped as delight shot through her. “I… I want more.”

  Sweeping her into his arms, he turned and walked to the bed. He sat against the headboard and kept her in his lap. “I’m glad you do, Millicent. I long to show you so much more and fear dawn will come too soon.”

  The last time she had been in a man’s arms, it had been disappointing and led to the end of that relationship. She had only been a girl then. Now she was a woman and would not act like an idiot. Putting on a brave face despite her anxiety, she said, “You know I’m not a virgin, Preston. You needn’t be so timid with me.”

  He gripped her chin and forced her to look in his eyes where anger simmered. “I’m only going to say this once, and then I never want to talk about that libertine again. I am not Gordon Merrifield. He took advantage of a young girl and then betrayed your trust. I will never betray you, Millicent. What we share here tonight is for you as much as it is for me. Do not sully this with thoughts of a man not worth the weight of his memory.”