Witnessing Marston’s physically demonstrative greeting, Chase decided to put his riding plans on hold. He convinced himself he needed to know why Millie had agreed to the social call, but more importantly, he wanted to ensure she did not fall into one of Marston’s scandalous traps. He cracked open the door and covertly positioned himself to listen and discover her plans.
Millie’s voice was warm and inviting. “Lord Marston, I cannot tell you how surprised I was this morning to receive your request for a visit.”
“My lady, I hope not unpleasantly surprised. I believe I expressed a desire to liven your stay here in London.”
Marston’s veiled suggestion of continued companionship made Chase’s insides knot.
“Oh? And how would you enhance someone’s holiday while in Town?” Millie’s tenor was that of a perfect hostess asking an innocent and commonplace question.
“May I suggest a ride tomorrow?”
Millie scrunched up her nose. The excursion was exactly what she desired, but after what happened in the stables, she wanted to ride only with Chase—not this slick nobleman oozing charm. It was obvious Marston wanted to be in her good graces for a reason, but what could it be?
Marston misinterpreted her unenthusiastic facial expression. “My lady—Millie—you do not have to be afraid. I have the perfect mare for you. She is very small, like you, and extremely gentle.”
Millie could not help her reaction as her eyebrows shot up in complete horror. She swallowed and moved to sit down in an isolated chair that prevented him from sitting next to her. “And I suppose you are going to assure me this mare has no capacity for speed.”
Marston moved to sit on a light-blue velvet settee across from her. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “You have my absolute promise of her submissive nature. I do not think the little animal could even trot faster than I could run. There now, does that reassure you?”
Millie held her breath and stared with hooded eyes for several moments at the man who was obviously well practiced in deceitfulness. Again, he insulted her by underestimating her nature and her abilities. First at cards and now at riding.
The thought of being on a small, pathetically slow animal was worse than not riding at all. Despite her desire to get outdoors and discover Marston’s true purpose in seeking her out, Millie found it easy to decline. “While tempting, my lord, I am afraid I must refuse your offer. In spite of your assurances to the contrary, I just cannot see me on top of a small horse.”
Relief flooded through Chase. When Millie had not turned Marston down immediately, he wondered if she was going to accept. Since her arrival in Town, she had been unable to persuade a chaperone to join her in the permissible things she loved to do, such as ride. If Millie was not provided an acceptable means of entertainment soon, she would seek adventures where Chase feared he could not protect her.
Chase refocused his attention on the conversation, realizing Marston was not deterred by her refusal.
“I understand, and do not trouble yourself regarding your fear of riding. I spoke to Lady Alstar earlier this week, and I understand that you have accepted her invitation to Saturday’s ball.”
Marston’s demeanor and tone had changed. In a heartbeat, he went from an affable man relying on his charm and dashing good looks to one significantly more aggressive. He was taking control of the conversation. Millie recognized the change but had no idea how to stop him. “Well, uh, yes . . .” She stood and moved toward the window in hopes to put some distance between them.
As if realizing her intentions, Marston immediately rose and followed her. “Lady Millie, if I cannot persuade you to ride with me, I must insist you allow me to escort you to Alstar’s ball this Saturday.”
He stood very close, using his height to intimidate her. It was an obvious maneuver employed by men who were either extremely insecure or closet tyrants. In the past, when gentlemen callers performed such ploys, she quickly denounced their behavior, which normally resulted in the offender’s humiliation. But with Marston, Millie instinctively knew it would not be wise to summarily cut off the man’s heavy-handed approach. He was different. Marston didn’t want her per se, but something she could give him. And he would continue his insistent pursuit until he had what he wanted. She was both fearful and curious to know what it was.
“Lord Marston . . .”
“Call me Neville, Millie.”
It was a command, not a request. And he had used her given name again without permission. Everything she knew about noblemen was based on the principle that they behaved as gentlemen, especially in the presence of higher-bred ladies. Marston might be of noble birth, but he was no gentleman, and Millie had not a clue how to regain control of the conversation and situation.
Unable to see Marston’s looming stance, Chase had continued to let the conversation play out, although he could hear the apprehension growing in Millie’s voice. But when he heard Marston’s latest demand, a fierce wave of protection took over, and he stepped into the room.
“Lady Mildred, my mother wanted me to remind you that I will be escorting you to Alstar’s this Saturday. She expects all of us to attend and travel together. Please coordinate the exact time of our departure with her.”
There was no room for misinterpretation. Chase was going to escort Millie Saturday—not Marston. Chase knew his timing was obvious but did not care. And looking at the relief in Millie’s eyes, he was positive she did not care, either. The only one who did mind was standing near the window, livid at the intrusion and disruption of his plans.
Marston watched as the dark-haired vixen and Chaselton exchanged looks. He had been right about Lady Mildred Aldon. The interruption at Vauxhall Gardens had been no accident. Chaselton was definitely more interested in the beauty than he let on. Marston had been dithering as to whether Chase’s interest was strong enough to be used to his advantage, but now he knew for sure. Marston opened his stance, to be less confrontational. He needed to present himself as someone harmless.
Millie watched Chase stride into the room, his power and authority permeating the room. His amber eyes captured hers. Millie could feel the heat rise in her cheeks at his look of cool possessiveness. Her lips curved into a tentative smile conveying her gratitude.
“Certainly, my lord. I will meet with your mother this afternoon to discuss, uh, the details,” Millie replied, using the opportunity to distance herself from Marston’s overbearing company. Now standing next to Chase, she felt much less the ensnared animal in a well-laid trap. She gestured toward Marston, who stood scowling in the corner. “Let me introduce . . .”
Marston interrupted her. “Chaselton and I are old acquaintances.”
Chase locked eyes with the man. Untold words were spoken during the seconds they exchanged stares. “Marston.”
“It appears you have the privilege of escorting this charming woman to Saturday’s main event. I hope I have the pleasure of such duties in the future.”
Over my dead body, thought Chase. “It may prove to be difficult. It has taken me eight years to acquire the chance. I doubt I will be willing to relinquish the privilege so very soon.” If ever, Chase thought.
“I see,” said Marston. “Well, Lady Aldon, let me detain you no further this afternoon. Although I do hope Lord Chaselton will not monopolize all your attentions this weekend. I meant what I said earlier in regard to providing you the freedom to pursue your, um, ‘inclinations.’” Marston then quickly waved his hand in a flowery motion as he bowed and then pushed through the drawing room doors.
Millie took several retreating steps as she saw golden flames of anger flicker in Chase’s eyes.
“Care to explain Marston’s last comment? In fact, do you care to explain any of what he just said?” Chase asked sharply.
Millie’s jaw tensed and her lavender eyes flashed in response to his challenge. “No, I would not.” She straightened her shoulders and headed toward the back doors to leave the room.
In four steps, C
hase caught Millie by the shoulders, whirling her around to face him. “I suggest you change your mind.”
Millie struggled for composure. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, causing her to tremble violently. His cold eyes sniped at her, and Millie’s instinct was to flee. But she knew the only way she was going to escape was to tell Chase the truth—or at least some of it. “Earlier, before today, Lord Marston and I discussed the absence of excitement in London life. He offered to alleviate my boredom. He . . .” Millie paused to lick her lips and gather fortitude. “He was the one who mentioned Vauxhall Gardens. Today he offered to take me riding. And do not pretend you are unaware of what I am referring to—I know you were listening. Bloody hell, Lord Marston knew you were listening, the way you barged in here.”
Understanding her motives, Chase’s voice warmed a few degrees. His amber eyes softened as they drank in her proud, delicate face. “I know, but Marston excels at trapping women in difficult situations, one of which he was well on his way to entangling you into. Or had you intended to go to Alstar’s ball with him?” Chase asked, knowing the answer.
Millie bristled at the idea. “Of course I had no intention of letting him escort me. I was just trying to summon a way of refusing his offer without raising his ire.”
A swift shadow of possession took over Chase’s expression. “What do you care if his ire was raised? What are you up to, Mildred Aldon?” he asked roughly.
Millie shrugged and twisted her hands unconsciously. “I do not know exactly. But I think Lord Marston has some ulterior motive driving him toward me, and I want to know what that is.”
Standing so close to her, Chase’s dissipating anger was being replaced with a renewed desire to pull her back into his arms. There was no mysterious reason behind Marston’s motives. Lust. And Chase found the idea of another man besides himself craving his ethereal beauty intolerable. If he found it near impossible to quash the rush of sexual need her presence stirred in him, he had no doubt that Marston did as well. He decided to take measures to ensure the man kept his distance from Millie.
Chase reached out and wound a loose lock of her hair in his hand. “Maybe the fact that you are an incredibly beautiful woman is his reason.”
“Perhaps,” Millie answered, his comment not truly registering. But she knew that was not it. No, women did not motivate Lord Marston; power did.
Chase looked at her slender white neck and fought his desire to lean down and taste its softness. He needed to leave. If he stayed, he was going to find himself compromising her in a way he would kill any other man for doing.
He clenched both fists. How could this particular woman affect him so? He had known many ladies, both beautiful and desirable, but never had he had to fight to maintain his self-control around them.
But Mildred Aldon was complex.
Her determination and spirit both captivated and frustrated him. She was beautiful, graceful, and charming. She could play the role of the model duchess to perfection.
But he knew the real Millie.
The one who was infuriatingly stubborn, crafty, and willing to use devious means to achieve whatever goal she set for herself. He also knew her heart. The unswerving loyalty and infinite love she had for her friends. And for the past three weeks, he had repeatedly wondered what it would be like to have all that devotion and passion directed at him.
He shook his head to clear his mind, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that now was not the time for anyone to enter his life in a permanent way—especially not Mildred Aldon.
Millie would not be satisfied to live a life separate from his. She would demand a partnership in every sense of the word. Unlike most females, who preferred to have their husbands completely removed from their daily activities, Mildred would want to be involved in the kinds of decisions other women avoided. And on a subconscious level, Chase knew that was why his attraction to her was so much stronger than what he had felt for any other woman.
They had an instant connection, for reasons that could not and need not be explained. Remembering how passionately she had responded when he’d taken her into his arms, he knew that she wanted him as well.
Even now as she looked at him, her violet-blue eyes were luminous with desire. He was almost afraid to breathe knowing her elusive, womanly scent would arouse him even further.
Chase raked his hands through his hair and grappled with his honor. He wanted her more than ever. Millie was a woman he could trust with his heart and soul. She could fill the cold void he had lived with for so long. Her energy and spirit and warmth were what he had longed for, and now that he had found them, he was forced to push all of them aside.
He took a deep breath to clear his mind. His life was too dangerous to manage an independent wife with unlimited curiosity and opinions of her own. Millie and he would have to wait.
“I have to go. I will see you Saturday.”
And then he was gone, leaving Millie mystified. Twice this afternoon she had been with men whose moods altered in the blink of an eye.
“And they say women are unpredictable,” she muttered to herself.
Chapter 7
Alstar’s ball was the last stop on Saturday night’s tour of “must attend” Mayfair parties. “Unbelievable how this pushy crowd of ruffles will be touted as a successful crush,” Millie murmured to herself as she stared at the throngs of people pretending to enjoy each other’s company. Anyone who was anyone had arrived at Alstar’s unusually early rather than risk being missed and losing their standing in Society. Mother Wentworth, as usual, had sensed the haut ton’s delicate mood and had timed the Three’s arrival perfectly. And though they would have liked to deny it, Millie, Aimee, and Jennelle were quite the attraction.
All three of them looked exquisite in their newest creations. Millie had met with Madame Sasha the day before and had no idea what to expect based on her fitting. When the unusual creation was delivered in the morning, the three of them had been awed.
“Millie, your modiste is a rare find. If Madame Sasha ever would allow us to make her name public, she would be swarmed with new clients. Look at this—she even made you a special chemise,” Aimee said, staring at the undergarment the color of black pearls.
Though secretly agreeing with her friend’s assessment, Millie reminded herself of the torture she’d had to endure to get the luscious garment that now lay on her bed. “Ha! Your modiste never makes you stand still for hours, only to poke, prod, and curse at you in Russian.”
Surprise lit Aimee’s face. “Do you honestly think she is cursing?”
Millie’s mouth curved with envy. “Yes, I do. I wish I could curse in a language no one understood. Then I could say whatever I felt like in any company.”
“It would be a convenient skill,” Jennelle murmured, fondling the soft silver folds.
“I do not care what you say, Millie. This gown is worth whatever torture you went through,” Aimee said wistfully.
While the dress still maintained the preferred Empire look, it was wispy, soft, and utterly feminine. The gown’s underlayer was made of a very light-colored dusty blue-gray silk. Over it was a watered gauze material. Pleated along the bustline and sleeves, the delicate fabric formed distinct vertical ridges cleverly tucked into a wide, silver-embroidered trim with sporadically placed gemstones. Fixed to the back was a slightly darker shade of delicate, diaphanous tulle. Both the tulle and the gauze fell straight to the floor with a slight train that sparkled with clear jewels. Madame Sasha had included a headband trimmed in the same silver pattern as the dress, with similar, but smaller, gemstones.
By the time Millie had dressed, no additional adornment was needed. The gown emphasized her light skin, dark hair, and unusual eyes. Unfortunately, the striking combination made it much more difficult for Millie to remain unnoticed. As soon as she arrived at each event, she found herself constantly inventing excuses to extricate herself from the company of unwanted admirers.
Even Jennelle could no longer shoo the men
away with her odd discussions of other countries and cultures. Her new fondness for Society meetings had introduced her to several unattached gentlemen who found it difficult to meet women who understood their passions. Thankfully, though, these passions were mostly reserved for their topics, not for her.
Aimee and Millie were glad Jennelle had finally found people in Society whose fascination for odd trivia matched her own. However, Jennelle’s merriment meant they had to rely on each another for rescues from men who were just a little too persistent.
Chase escorted the Three just as he promised, but quickly mingled with the crowd after they arrived, at which point Millie’s torture commenced. She was surrounded by men who appeared charming enough, but every time she compared them to Chase, they seemed more like boys and less like men.
Chase was a man unlike any other. He moved effortlessly through the mayhem with self-confidence unmatched by any gentleman in the room. Even at a distance, his presence was both compelling and so very disturbing. He exuded strength and masculinity, and every woman was aware of his appeal.
His dark coat was perfectly tailored and cut to subtly accentuate his large frame. He had chosen an unadorned white silk waistcoat rather than one with the heavily embroidered design most of the noblemen fancied.
She also preferred the simple configuration of his snowy white neckcloth. Too many of London’s dandies wore their collars so high they covered their ears. Many actually weaved in whalebone stiffeners to hold the heavily starched cloth away from their necks. As a result, they could no longer turn their heads but had to rotate their entire bodies, making them appear absurd and foolish.
The ends of Chase’s cravat were brought forward and tied in a single, simple large knot. Rather than choking on layers of fabric in hopes of following some silly rule of fashion, Chase confined his cravat to circling his neck only once. Instead of hiding his stubborn and arrogant facial features, the shorter collar accentuated them.
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