A Woman Made for Pleasure

by Michele Sinclair

  “Don’t know exactly. Appears to be a maiden, but she certainly is older than most of the green chits who stroll through here each year. But if she is pure, she is unlike any maiden I have ever seen. Quite bewitching.”

  Chase raised an eyebrow. “She must be. I thought you avoided the messy entanglements that tended to accompany unwedded ladies.”

  “Usually I do—probably still do, but her eyes charmed me as if I were a snake emerging from a wicker basket. Take care, Chaselton. Perhaps I will see you later this Season.”

  “Possibly,” Chase replied as he watched his mentor and friend blend in with the crowd and emerge again as one of many admirers surrounding a female of the Season.

  As he was about to scan for his three charges, one of the men surrounding Edward’s current interest moved, and Chase glimpsed the woman attracting so much attention. Millie. Suddenly, Edward’s words came back to him—dark hair, bewitching eyes.

  Chase had taken precautions before they left to minimize his time with Millie. He had waited outside until all the women had shuffled into the Wentworth carriage. When they arrived, he had disappeared into the crowd before she had removed her cloak. Now, seeing her for the first time in her ball gown, he realized he had been either extremely wise or enormously foolish in staying away.

  She looked like an ethereal sprite visiting from heaven. Her orchid-colored gown slithered down her trim frame, giving her figure the illusion of height while accentuating her delicate features. The gown’s slightly longer train was simple and unembellished, only adding to Millie’s natural, regal beauty. The neckline was trimmed in stiffened white and silver lace, framing her neck as it scooped from one small puffed sleeve to the other. Two strands of pearls matching the ones in her hair completed the look. Chase stared transfixed at the woman he used to call twig.

  As the crowd continued to swell around her, he felt unbearably possessive, as if he alone had the right to be in her company. Trying to craft a reason to remove every admirer from her presence, he suddenly saw the group disperse. It was as if by the mere wave of her hand, every man happily decided to give her space. He seized the opportunity and walked to her side.

  “I’m impressed . . . Mildred.” He had not intended to use her hated name, but tacked it on at the last moment. Just seeing her, so beautiful and composed, bothered him—enormously. It would be impossible to pretend any longer that she was still little Mildred Aldon. The feeling left him desperately and futilely seeking any means of gaining the upper hand.

  Millie bristled. “Why, if it isn’t Charlie Wentworth. You have been quite the busy man this evening,” she said, looking at the crowd, never visually acknowledging his presence.

  He smiled at her rejoinder. “I thought you were going to start calling me Chase. Though my lord sounds quite nice, coming from your lips.”

  “If I were greeted by the gentlemanly Lord Chaselton, I might be inclined. But, alas, I seem to be in the presence of someone who is acting similar to a mocking young man whom I once knew by the name of Charlie.”

  One eyebrow rose in admiration. “You have managed to preserve your quick wit, sprite. It can still easily cut a man in half.”

  Millie gave in and looked at him, exaggerating his height by raking her eyes up and down his tall frame. “Unfortunately, my wit has never had the ability to reduce your sense of self.”

  Chase could not keep himself from grinning. “Glad I was able to hide it from you.”

  “Bah. You never hid anything from me. You were always annoyed with me, and you certainly let me know.”

  Chase shrugged noncommittally. “You would be, too, if you constantly had to interrupt more important activities to chase down a mischievous little girl bent on hurting or killing herself.” He stepped in a little closer and whispered, “Maybe you secretly liked it when I saved you.”

  Millie’s stomach fluttered. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and got her nerves back under control. “Such abysmal attempts will not work.”

  “What won’t?” he choked, realizing he was too close. It was hard enough to match wits with Millie, but being so near, her scent filled his head, claiming his senses. Suddenly he was in his dreams again, agonizing to know the taste and feel of her lying naked beneath him.

  Millie eyed him warily and turned back to watch the crowd. “This little stratagem you are trying to apply. It will not work anymore. You used to intimidate me or provoke me by twisting my words around. I’m older now and recognize those types of ploys used by gentlemen.”

  Chase was instantly surprised and jealous at the same time. Unaccustomed to the sensation, he did not like the feeling. Who were these men trying different methods to manipulate Millie? He never believed himself to be a possessive man, and tried once again to convince himself that the stirring within him was only a brotherly need to protect her.

  Millie interrupted his racing thoughts. “Be honest with me, Charlie. Enough of the superficial banter. You mysteriously disappear as soon as we arrive, to meet with several odd gentlemen, and now you come over here seemingly to pick a fight. What is really on your mind?” Millie wondered if Chase would admit his real purpose for being in London, for it was definitely not to escort her and her friends.

  Chase watched her with unfathomable eyes. “Again, I am impressed, sprite.”

  Millie gave him a placating smile and returned her gaze to the dancing couples. “Sprite, now, is it? Whatever happened to twig?”

  “That nickname definitely no longer suits you. I don’t believe you realize how lovely you look this evening. Something of a mixture of youth, innocence, and regal beauty. It is as if an angel came down from heaven and transformed you into one of their own.” Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, “But your angel forgot to replace your impish grin. Bedevilment still rides there.”

  Millie brushed the comment aside. “Such flattery, Charlie. I know not whether to swoon at your words or retaliate.” As soon as she voiced the two choices, Millie deftly and quickly—so that none saw—elbowed Chase in the ribs with painful precision.

  Grimacing in genuine distress, he replied, “I noticed you chose the latter.”

  Facing him now, she looked up at him and very innocently commented, “Oh, my deepest apologies. Did I hurt you?”

  “You tried.”

  His denial caused Millie’s eyes to snap with frustration. “It was a natural response to insincere adulation. I assure you that if you spoke similarly to any woman of gumption, she would have reacted in a like manner.”

  Chase’s eyes locked with hers. “Trust me when I say this, Millie. You are unlike any woman I have ever met or will likely meet in the future. You are one of a kind. An original. And you are stunningly beautiful tonight.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. He was telling her the truth. Chase thought her pretty. She had never wanted to be pretty before, but now that she heard the words, she suddenly wanted very much for him to consider her beautiful.

  Studying the intricate folds in his cravat, she cleared her throat and tried to return the compliment. “Well, uh, thank you, Charlie. You look very fine, too.”

  In truth, he looked amazing. So amazing she continually returned her vision to the crowd to prevent her from stammering. He was dressed in a black, perfectly tailored jacket that, with his white waistcoat and cravat, emphasized his muscular build. His black trousers were tight fitting and revealed the sleek, powerful contours of his legs. And each time her gaze connected with his, he seemed able to see right to her very soul, leaving her completely naked and vulnerable.

  Chase sent her a speculative, sidelong glance and wondered what she was thinking at that very moment. “So are you going to tell me how you did it?”

  Still thinking about how solid and large his body was, how completely masculine he appeared, she was caught off guard by his question. “Did what?”

  Chase moved his arm in front of them, indicating the lack of company. “How you so easily cleared the drooling crowd of men surrounding you
earlier.”

  Her eyebrows rose. So Chase had been watching her. “Hmm, when I was younger I would have offered a lot to know how to do something the great omnipresent Charlie Wentworth did not.”

  Chase gave her an irritated look. “Mildred, what are you talking about? What is all this babble about omnipresence?”

  Millie shrugged. “Oh, nothing, really. When I was young, I used to think that you had the ability to be anywhere and everywhere.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Chase responded.

  “I agree, but I could never figure out how you always seemed to know when I was doing something that you thought I oughtn’t.”

  “Simple. I followed you.” Watching her eyes narrow, he probed again. “So? What is your secret?”

  Millie sharply shook her head, releasing a couple of locks of hair so that they framed her face in a most appealing way. “No, I do not believe I will reveal my methods of dispersal. It is an enjoyable sensation, knowing how to do something you do not. It is an infuriatingly uncommon event, and I would like time to bask in the feeling.”

  Chase dropped his voice to a quiet, private whisper. “You could teach me a number of things, Millie.”

  The change in his voice made her insides race with sensual excitement. She had to regain control of the conversation and her emotions. If she continued to allow him to flatter and tease her, she would be completely flustered. And to be flustered around this new, very male Charlie was dangerous and unwise. She had to turn the tables on him—now, and fast.

  “I spoke with your friend Sir Edward this evening. He’s one of the few gentlemen whose conversation I thoroughly enjoyed.”

  Alarm shot through Chase. He caught her wrist and deftly maneuvered her to a more secluded area in the room. “What do you mean, you conversed with him? I thought he had just met you when you sent all your admirers scurrying.”

  She rubbed her wrist, resentment darkening her eyes. “Hmm, no. We met and danced earlier. He was telling me how he used to be a spy. Is it true?”

  His insides clenched, wondering just what game Edward was playing. “I think it would be wise if you avoided Edward in the future.”

  “Why? You were talking with him. Besides, I like him.”

  “You should. He’s a likable man and a good one. But he is also much older than he looks and is used to playing in a field that uh . . . well, requires no commitment in order for a gentleman to be entertained.”

  Millie flashed him a blindingly bright smile. “Yes, I surmised as much. Regardless, I think Sir Edward and I could be friends. Besides, he now owes me a favor.”

  Millie was doing it again. She had total control of the conversation, making him batty with the double talk. She could give Sir Edward lessons. “Friends? A favor?”

  Millie twirled around the private alcove, feeling free to be herself for the first time that evening. “Indeed. I might have let it slip that if it was a beautiful and available woman’s attention he sought, Mrs. Wollsen would be amenable. She’s lovely, intelligent, and searching for a new partner.” She stopped twirling and chuckled to herself. “Remind me to inquire if he embraced my suggestion.”

  Shock filled Chase’s expression. “Mildred Aldon, what in all that is holy is going through your mind? Ladies do not suggest paramours to men they barely know!” Sensing her imminent retort, he added, “Not to any man—ever!”

  She placed her hands on her hips and tried for a cool, amused tone. “Excuse me? Should I call him back and declare that I have had second thoughts and would love to entertain the idea of him as a suitor?” Watching Chase stumble about for a quick reply, but finding none, Millie snorted, “That is what I thought.”

  Chase’s mouth tightened. “How did you even know of Mrs. Wollsen’s particular inclinations?”

  Her chin came up proudly. “I didn’t. At least not until I met her a few hours ago, and then her intentions became quite obvious. Upon introductions, I sensed a bit of friction from her, but once I conveyed that neither Aimee, nor Jennelle, nor I intended to encourage any man’s attention . . . we got along splendidly. I do hope we can become good friends. She was quite intelligent and capable of stimulating conversation.” Millie paused and gazed wistfully around the room. “Something that seems to be lacking in most of the ladies of the ton wandering about tonight. Jennelle must be going mad.”

  Chase’s head was spinning. “I’m going to regret this, but I must ask. How did you convey your intentions? Did you tell Mrs. Wollsen of your marriage plans, or lack of them?”

  Millie wrinkled her nose, and once again Chase found it strangely appealing. “Of course not. Your mother would be horrified and extremely ashamed if any of us verbalized our promise in public. I used . . . a type of... woman’s language.”

  Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “You could try a saint, Mildred. Explain. And do not attempt to tell me that you can read and send thoughts.”

  She crossed her arms and looked at the tall, frustrated figure in front of her. “Sometimes, Charlie, you propose the strangest ideas. Suffice it to say—and you will just have to take my word for it—that women have other ways of speaking to each other beyond that of speech.”

  “Millie . . .”

  “No, seriously, Charlie. I’m being earnest. A man and a woman could meet another couple on the street and exchange greetings and walk away. The men would have thought from the conversation that their companions knew each other and were friends. However, in reality, both women told each other quite the opposite. I don’t know a better way to explain it. There are just some things women can best say without using any words. And that is how Mrs. Wollsen knew I was no threat.”

  Chase nearly choked on her response. “Bloody hell. Come with me,” Chase said, bridling his inner thoughts.

  As he grabbed her wrist again, she managed to utter, “Where are we going?”

  He stopped abruptly and faced her. “I am either going to throttle you, kiss you into submission, or dance with you. Given we are at a ball, and what my mother’s reaction would be to the second suggestion, that leaves dancing. Believe me, if all things were equal, dancing would not be my preference.”

  Seconds later Millie was whisked into a waltz, gracefully performing one spin after another. Despite their difference in size, she and Chase moved remarkably well together, as if their sense of timing and balance had been tuned only for each other.

  Millie wanted to ask which of the remaining suggestions had been his preference but was afraid he would reply with throttling. So she remained silent and enjoyed the first pleasant dance she had experienced all evening. She had never waltzed with Chase before, and now that she had several other dances to relate it to, she knew there was no comparison.

  Chase thought he handled the rest of the evening superbly, all things considered. He danced with his sister and Jennelle and again with Millie. And all three were out of character. Instead of the daring, outspoken women he knew them to be, they held themselves as refined ladies with impeccable manners, graceful in all ways, including conversation. No one would guess their true natures. He was about to suggest they leave for the next event, when he was suddenly accosted by a beautiful woman in a pale blue dress with her hair dressed in ringlets.

  “Oh no,” Aimee whispered.

  The tone in her voice caught Millie’s attention. “What?”

  “That Selena woman has Charles trapped.” Aimee, Jennelle, and Millie had been surprisingly successful in their covert plans to keep the shrew away from Chase, but the woman was relentless.

  Damn her lack of height. Desperately, Millie sought some way of looking over the multitude and seeing what her tall friend witnessed so easily.

  Jennelle gasped as she saw Millie climb onto the edge of a potted plant. “Millie! Get down from there!”

  Millie ignored her friend’s plea as she spied Chase walking arm in arm with the yellow-haired vixen who called herself a debutante. He was smiling, and as he disappeared outside, Millie witnessed him laughing. Actually lau
ghing. Forgetting where she was, Millie stomped her foot, missing the edge of the pot. Instantly, her slipper was soaked in mud.

  “Bloody hell.”

  “What? What happened?” Then Jennelle saw Millie’s face. “What did you do?”

  “Help me down from here. Aimee, you might want to go locate your mother. It appears we will be leaving shortly.”

  Aimee looked relieved. “Thank you, Millie, for coming up with a reason for us to depart.” Aimee kissed her friend’s cheek and rushed off to find her mother.

  Jennelle was not so easily mollified. “Though I echo Aimee’s sentiments about leaving, what actually happened?”

  Millie lifted up the hem of her dress and showed the grimy results of her impulsive behavior. “Do you think anyone noticed?”

  Jennelle exhaled, shaking her head. “No, most likely not. Even standing on that pot you barely were above normal height.”

  Millie grimaced. “I hate the feel of mud between my toes.”

  “You? The queen of all things adventurous?”

  Millie shot Jennelle a scathing look. “Stop it. That was no adventure. That was just a dismal display of clumsiness. Whatever is Charles thinking?”

  “Charles?”

  “I mean Charlie.”

  “You said Charles.”

  “Same person. What’s the difference? You call him Charles.”

  Jennelle smiled as if she had some secret that others would dearly love to know. “Oh, it is just that I do not recall ever hearing you refer to Charles by any name other than Charlie. But as you said, completely insignificant,” she finished mischievously.

  Millie was about to clarify Jennelle’s obvious attempt to read into something that was not there, when Cecilia Wentworth arrived.

  “Oh dear.” Cecilia looked at the pot that had done the deed and sighed in understanding. “Well, I suppose one must improvise when one needs to observe a man.”

  Not wanting to explain who the man was or why, Millie remained silent. Jennelle and Aimee protectively gathered around Millie to hide the bottom of her dress as they moved toward the front door. They said their good-byes and made their way to the Wentworth carriage.