“You suppose a great deal, my lord. Our encounter tonight was a bizarre happenstance. I doubt there will be another time when we shall meet again,” she said deprecatingly. Millie hoped he understood that she was aware of his games, and was not going to naïvely participate in them any longer.
Millie saw his jaw clench. Marston moved in closer and spoke softly. “I shall not need another time, my lady. I only need tonight. You see, you have . . .”
Suddenly Millie’s arm was yanked by a very strong grip. “Excuse me, but this lady came with me.”
The very tall man began hauling her away, and Marston, doing nothing to stop him, quickly retreated without a word. At that moment true fear engulfed her and as she was about to retaliate, Millie found herself without her mask, looking up at a very angry Charles Wentworth. He had brought his face within inches of hers so that she had no trouble seeing just how blazingly furious he was.
Chase knew only sheer luck had enabled him to save her this evening. Learning the Daring Three had elected to avoid the night’s events, Chase had disentangled himself from the Octopus—his new endearment for Selena Hall—and returned home to work on some communiqués and try again to locate Lord Eischel. He was surprised to be interrupted by a footman who asked if he still wanted the unmarked chaise to be made ready, or if he would prefer to use the Wentworth carriage.
Chase had been about to dismiss both vehicles when he sensed a Mildred Aldon plan brewing and lay in wait to see what and where the Three were going. After one look at their outfits, he knew their destination: Vauxhall. Nowhere else in London could masked women dress as though they were extremely high-class French demimondes.
He had quickly located his own mask, donned his jacket, and rushed to prevent his sister and her friends from getting caught in their latest foolish adventure. He arrived later than he had anticipated, and the crowd was growing. If he had not seen their dresses, they would have been impossible to find, let alone discern their identities. He hated to admit it, but their outfits were rather ingenious and their masks very concealing.
“You little fool,” he hissed.
“Chase! How did you know we were here?”
“I saw you leave Hembree Grove. Of all the half-brained, rash things you have tried, Mildred Aldon, this has to be the most reckless. Do you know what would happen if someone actually recognized you dressed like that?”
Millie barely suppressed a scathing retort about that being impossible when she remembered someone had recognized her—Lord Marston. Millie pursed her lips and decided it was not the ideal time to impart that piece of information. “We were just preparing to leave. Jennelle wanted to see the fireworks.”
“Don’t try that with me, Mildred.” His gravel-toned voice brooked no disobedience.
Millie swallowed. He had used her given name, and she should be bristling with indignation. Instead, powerful emotions threatened to take over. Their mysterious connection had again flared to life, and suddenly Millie was intensely aware of him as a man. His lean, solid body, the strength of his hands, his masculine scent—all contributed to the unfamiliar feminine urges being aroused under his golden gaze.
Millie slanted him a defiant glance and reminded herself how much she hated his male arrogance. “I would appreciate it if you would stop using my full name,” Millie admonished and started to back away, puzzled as to why she all of a sudden found his arrogance to be appealing.
Chase clamped a hand over her wrist, eliminating any further retreat. “Right now, I’ll call you whatever I damn well please. In fact, I’m half inclined to place you over my knee.”
Millie managed a polite smile as cold anger flared to life. “Try it, Charlie Wentworth, and you’ll regret it. My fighting abilities have significantly improved since you stopped your instructions. And if you continue to provoke me, I’ll be inclined to give you a lesson,” she warned, struggling to keep her voice low.
“Your threats affect me less today than when you were a child, Mildred. And if you think you can palm off Jennelle as the cause and instigator for tonight’s foray into potential disaster, think again. And after seeing you alone with a man, cozying up to him, do not think you can persuade me that you were preparing to leave!”
Millie gave him her most wintry smile. “My, that’s quite a lot of thinking you have me doing when I have only a half a brain.”
“And I am not sure even that half is working, with what I just witnessed.”
Millie’s eyes popped open in defense. “And just what did you just witness? Some man cornered me and asked me a few questions. It is not as if he accosted me, swung me into a dark path, ripped off my mask, and started berating me. Now, if a man did something like that, I could understand why you would be upset if I did nothing about it.”
Chase took a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “You could try a saint.”
“You practically are one, with all of your holier-than-thou attitudes, opinions, and most of all . . .”
Millie did not have a chance to complete her sentence when Chase manhandled her again without warning. Suddenly she was pressed tight against his chest, his mouth capturing hers in a searing kiss that made her body yield in submission. Only temporarily stunned, Millie was about to fight back when she heard nearby voices talking . . . about her.
“Come along, darling. This man is experiencing the pleasures of his lady’s lips. I want to experience yours.”
Millie felt relief when the overly sultry voice faded away as the couple rounded a hedge farther down the path. Then alarm shot through her. Chase was not ending the kiss.
At first, Chase had pulled her into an embrace to protect her. Crushing her lips with his own, he had not expected nor wanted her to respond. The kiss was hard and commanding, in retribution for all the trouble she had caused him. But when her lips trembled, and he felt the shiver of fear that went through her entire body as the couple went by, a surge of desire swept over him.
The kiss changed from one of retribution to one of passion. Somewhere in his mind, Chase knew he should stop. But he could not summon the will to ease her away. Not yet. Cradling her face in his hands, he deepened the embrace, kissing her slowly, thoroughly, knowing no man had ever kissed her this way before. Never had the touch of soft lips so quickly and fully aroused him.
He brushed his lips lightly, persuasively, across hers, encouraging her mouth to open. The moment her lips parted, his tongue surged inside in an act of possession that excited her more than any daring escapade she could have conjured.
Millie moaned softly as her hands clung to his shoulders as a whirlpool of deep, feminine curiosity started swirling within her. Her throat constricted with desire. She felt alive in a way she never had before, and she wanted more—needed more. This was an adventure her body demanded she not end too soon.
Feeling her arms steal slowly up around his neck, a sense of triumph washed through Chase. His dream lover was real, and she wanted him with a passion that equaled his own. Heightened desire shuddered through Chase, and his already aroused body tightened even more with fierce, compelling need.
Never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted Millie. She was a firebrand, a constant whirl of energy, a blinding beam of light in his otherwise orderly world.
And then he remembered.
His world was a dark, dangerous place, and every day it became only more perilous as he learned about the men that his father had called friends. The honest passion he was finding with Millie was everything he had ever dreamed of having, but he could not do this. Not now. Maybe not ever.
A cool breeze floated across her lips as Chase ended the ardent, stirring embrace. Millie’s heart was racing; her senses were muddled. Uncertain how to handle the strange new sensuality Chase had ignited within her, she clung to him for both comfort and support. Burying her head against his chest, she held her breath.
Chase had kissed her. Really kissed her. Until tonight, the small pecks she had been given by young men attempting
to attract her interest were all she had ever experienced. The idea that a man could create such powerful feelings seemed ludicrous until now. She had never dreamed of kissing anyone so . . . intimately. She certainly never thought she would like it.
But she did.
Millie was aware that over the past few years she had blossomed into an attractive woman who could interest the opposite sex. However, not once had a man interested her. Until now. Until Chase. Charlie made her feel like a disruptive schoolchild in need of reprimanding, but Chase . . . he made her feel something entirely different. In his arms, she not only looked like a woman, but felt like one.
Entrapped by its implications and the lingering sensation of their kiss, Millie had not heard Chase ask her repeatedly for the location of Jennelle and Aimee. “What?” Millie asked as Chase lightly shook her a second time. He returned her mask. “Oh, thank you,” she replied, absently sliding the white beaded cover back over her face. “Aimee and Jennelle went to see the fireworks. I had heard there were acrobats and left to find them.”
The white of her mask only accentuated the deep violet of her eyes. Chase forced his inflamed desire back under some semblance of control. He needed to get the Daring Three home and avoid being alone with Mildred Aldon.
Before she could argue or respond, he seized her hand in his just as explosions could be heard across the main garden. “Good. The exhibition just started. They should still be there. Let us go,” he muttered, heading toward the crowd of fireworks spectators.
Lying on her bed rethinking the night’s events, Millie heard a light tapping at her door. She sat straight up in her bed and whispered, “Yes?” Jennelle tiptoed in.
Millie tried hard not to show her disappointment. She knew it would not be Chase, but when she heard the knock, her heart had stopped for one moment, hoping to see him step through her door.
Jennelle, misunderstanding the sadness on her face, tried to mollify her friend. “Millie, I just came in to thank you. I do not care a fig if Charles did find us at Vauxhall. I had a marvelous time, and I owe it all to you. So don’t be too offended by his lecture. He was only trying to protect us. You are not terribly upset, are you?”
Millie shook her head. “No. Although it has been awhile, I am still rather impervious to Charlie’s sermons.”
“Well, take care, get some sleep, and know that Aimee and I had a wonderful time—just as you promised.”
Millie watched her friend leave, and lay back down. Not a minute had passed before she heard a second light tap. This time she was not surprised when Aimee entered.
“Millie, are you awake? I just wanted to reassure myself that you were not too distressed regarding your promise to never enter Vauxhall again.”
“No, not too terribly. Especially now that I have been there.”
Aimee smiled and hugged herself. “Oh, it was exciting, though, wasn’t it? I’m so glad we went. What an adventure—just like you said. Although someday I hope to understand exactly what it is about our dresses that agitates every man in my family so. I mean, they cover and display no more or less than our ball gowns. Oh well. Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow, and again, do not fret over Charles. He has always been overprotective. I guess he always will be,” sighed Aimee.
Millie heard a soft click as the door closed moments later. The dim hall light glowed through the crack under the door. She waited for a long time to hear a third knock. A knock she knew in her heart would never come. Should never come.
It never did.
Much later, Chase entered Hembree Grove. After ensuring the Three were safely and discreetly inside the manor, he had decided to take a walk and clear his mind.
Tonight’s embrace had been a mistake. A large one. An inevitable one.
Ever since he had seen her stumbling around in the dark, he knew kissing Millie was predestined. He had not expected, however, for Millie to be just as aware of what had been building between them. Even worse, the kiss had been for her what it had not been for him—a one-time event. A means to end this insane attraction. A reminder that she was little Mildred Aldon, a child more inclined to climb trees than turn a man’s desire. It was supposed to end her nightly invasions into his dreams.
Tonight’s embrace, however, had done nothing of the sort. Millie had been warm and willing, innocent but ever so pleasing. She had responded to his need with similar hunger and passion. Even now, he could taste her on his tongue, hot and intoxicating.
In the carriage ride home, he had forced himself to compartmentalize his feelings, a natural ability he had perfected during the war. His face betrayed no emotion—not anger, nor disappointment, nor displeasure. Chase knew Aimee believed him to be furious with her behavior. Jennelle had probably known him long enough to realize he was not as indifferent to their adventure as he appeared. And based upon Millie’s silent response to his lecture, he assumed she was unaware of the mental battle he was waging. But when she had exited the carriage, he was surprised to learn he had been wrong.
“Chase,” Millie had whispered when Aimee and Jennelle were no longer within hearing, “don’t overanalyze what happened between us. You are angry with yourself when there is no need. I do not know why, but it was destined to happen. You wanted it, and in truth, so did I. Let it end at that. Thank you for seeing us home. Good night.”
He stood transfixed, watching the small version of a French demimonde in maiden white enter his home with the bearing of a duchess. She had not been fooled by his lecture or cold demeanor. He knew of no one, including his mother, who could have known what was truly on his mind. Not even Reece could discern his thoughts when he intentionally hid them. How had Millie?
When the door closed behind her, he had turned and begun walking aimlessly through the side streets of Mayfair. Tonight’s encounter had done nothing to satisfy the aching hunger in his loins. Instead of relief, his desire for the bewitching brunette had only grown. He would not be content until he possessed her. And when it came to Millie, possession meant marriage. A commitment he was unwilling to consider—for now.
Chase headed for his study with no more clarity than when he had left. Turning toward the darkened hallway, he saw a shadowed figure sitting on a velvet bench opposite the main staircase. Upon seeing him, the figure rose and moved to confront him. It was Millie’s maid and self-imposed protector of the Three, Elda Mae.
“Your lordship, I cannot tell you how your arrival eases my heart.”
Chase raised an eyebrow. Elda Mae was always one to speak her mind, but rarely was she complimentary, and for the past few weeks she had been avoiding him. “Thank you for staying up for me, Elda Mae, but I am home now.”
“Like I’d stay up for your lordship. Me girls, I know what they did—no, I didn’t know about it prior to their going out and about—but I knew Mildred brought those dresses. When I checked on the three of them this evening and realized they were gone, along with them gowns, it was clear to me they were up to no good. I was afraid for them. But when I saw them return with sunken faces, I knew you had found them and ensured they got back home no worse for wear. My lord, I doubt you will get any apologies from the Three for ruining their fun, but I thank you.”
“Yes, well, Elda Mae . . .”
“Oh, and I promised Alfred to let you know that you had a visitor this evening. I’m sure the gentleman is no longer here, but he might have left something for you in the library. That was where he was waiting. Well, good night, your lordship. And again, I thank you for rescuing me girls.” Elda Mae turned and disappeared down the narrow unlit hall that joined the servants’ quarters.
Chase sighed and headed toward the library. When he entered, he was startled to see the visitor had not left.
A tall, lanky man dressed in tailored, though not expensive, navy breeches and a matching coat, stood as Chase entered. Chase eyed his impassive, time-etched face, and determined the man to be the unexcitable sort, able to remain calm and composed for hours regardless of the circumstances.
&n
bsp; “Lord Chaselton?”
Chase closed the door. “I am. And you are . . . ?”
The man bowed quickly. “Name is Sanders, my lord. My late employer directed me to give this to you and in person.”
Chase raised his eyebrows. Whoever his employer was, this man certainly followed directions. The hour was half past four in the morning.
Chase turned to look at the sealed note. It was addressed to him, and though obviously written with an unsteady hand, the script was familiar. Tension instantly flooded Chase’s veins, and he forced himself to appear relaxed as he opened and read the contents.
The Most Honorable, The Marquess of Chaselton
My Lord Marquess,
As you might have surmised by my mysterious absence, I have retreated into hiding to escape an unavoidable fate. It seems my efforts were for naught and an ungentlemanly death awaits me. I only recently learned of your arrival and your quiet search for my whereabouts. And in my last hours, I hope to right our missed opportunity by relaying confidential information using the only means available to me—this note and my man of affairs. I have trusted Mr. Sanders for nearly two decades. He is a gentleman of impeccable honor.
As stated previously, I am now assured your father had not fallen to his death, but was murdered. I last wrote to you after discovering a letter mistakenly placed in my late wife’s belongings. It was from your father. He had proof identifying the traitor and urgently needed to meet with his two contacts, one of whom was I. Regrettably, the meeting never took place.
Since writing to you, I have also tried to contact Viscount Darlouney, the second of my contacts. He has not responded and since disappeared. I no longer maintain hope he lives. If correct, then when I die, only two of the five of us will remain. You are the only son amongst us, so the duty of seeing the dastardly traitor exposed falls to you if we fail.
A Woman Made for Pleasure Page 10