A Woman Made for Pleasure

by Michele Sinclair

  Though Millie hated to admit it, even to herself, Chase had been at the forefront of her mind all evening. She constantly found herself glancing around searching for him. And each time she located his whereabouts, she wished she had not. For in those rare moments when Selena Hall was not clutching his arm, she was hovering nearby. Only Chase’s reserved, rugged face kept Millie sane. Not once did she witness any sign of pleasure soften the granitelike rigidity of his appearance. And while his detachment was keeping Millie from making a fool of herself, she knew Chase was unusually skilled at compartmentalizing and hiding his feelings. Selena was undeniably stunning tonight. It would take an exceptional man to be in her company and not be affected by her beauty—and Miss Hall knew it.

  When the Three had first spied Selena making a grand entrance, Aimee had caught Millie’s look of disgust. “Be mindful of others, Millie. One would think you were jealous right now.”

  Millie’s mouth twisted wryly. “Do not try to fool me, Aimee Wentworth. I know you detest Miss Hall clinging to your brother as much as I do.”

  Jennelle had laughed. “Aimee might detest it, but I doubt whether anyone could match the antipathy you hold toward the woman. What is the matter with you? I thought Charles was most unpopular in your eyes, since Vauxhall. I was under the impression that you were pleased with his decision to live elsewhere.”

  “I was . . . am. Despite his enjoyment at seeing me miserable, I cannot understand why he would pretend to take pleasure in her company.”

  Jennelle’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you so sure he is pretending?”

  Millie had bit her bottom lip, realizing her folly. “Mother Wentworth believes he is, so he must be. Regardless of his interference in our affairs, I do not wish him to be permanently attached to a manipulative temptress. Even an intelligent man can get caught in the clutches of a scheming vixen.”

  They had stood silently and watched the gorgeous woman slither among the crowd. Aesthetically speaking, Selena was beyond compare in her rose and gold gown that perfectly highlighted her pink lips and the rouge in her cheeks.

  Her low-cut dress was stunning and heavily ornate. Selena was one of only a select few who could wear fashion’s elaborate gowns without drowning in their flashy trimmings. The dress was a golden silk, heavily embroidered with copper flowers. A long, rose velvet train flowed behind her, requiring others to watch their step lest they tread on the expensive fabric. In addition to the dress, Selena wore large pearl earrings, which matched the set around her neck. Her hair was piled high on her head in layers of intricate yellow curls, all encased in a formidable feathered tiara matching the embroidery of her gown.

  Jennelle had let out a low, barely audible whistle. “Quite dramatic, especially for an unmarried woman trying to appear chaste.”

  “Indeed,” Millie had replied under her breath.

  The rest of the evening Millie continued her covert surveillance of Selena Hall as she danced, conversed, and laughed appropriately with the numerous faceless men vying for her attention.

  Tonight was the first time Chase had seen Millie since that heart-racing afternoon. After saving her from Lord Marston’s untoward plans, Chase had decided to stay completely away from Hembree Grove and focus on contacting Brumby.

  While his desire for Millie had not lessened, Chase believed he had regained enough of his self-control to be a true chaperone to her this evening. But when Chase saw her descend the staircase on the way to the carriage, he knew he had been wrong.

  She had appeared petite and delicate, not at all like the passionate woman he had embraced only days before. As she moved gracefully down each step, the soft folds of the underlayer of her gown had clung to her curves, revealing slender, straight legs and a narrow waist. He smothered a groan as she walked toward him to curtsy. When she rose and tipped her head back, exposing the milky skin, he almost ordered her back upstairs to prevent any other man from appreciating her beauty.

  Only after they arrived at the ball did he realize that Millie was not wearing the amulet and was secretly relieved. He reminded himself that all who would recognize the item had done so already, but no one would miss it tonight. Millie was perfection and had no need of additional jewelry.

  Putting distance between them, Chase tried to focus on his mission. But the sight of other men ogling Millie when she was unaware made him continually look for her and ensure himself of her well-being.

  Spying a well-known lecherous lord trying to steal an unauthorized caress, Chase moved swiftly to Millie’s rescue. As he approached, Chase issued the man a scathing look that sent him scampering away. Reaching her side, Chase expected to see warmth, eagerness, or possibly anticipation shimmering in her eyes. Instead, Millie’s expression revealed annoyance—with him. He decided to take a light, playful approach.

  “I see you are studying people again.”

  Millie tilted her head in a nod to acknowledge his presence but refused to look in his direction. “It is a common pastime, I assure you. It is amazing the things you notice if you are observant enough. For example, I noticed after a certain conversation you brightened a bit. Though I found it to be a tad odd that you appeared to be happier in the company of a graying, rather plump gentleman than in the arms of the alluring Miss Selena Hall. Either you are an unprofessed actor or you are up to something, Charlie.” Her voice was clipped, more than she intended for it to be. Yet, after hours of quashing fits of rising jealousy, it was also to be expected.

  Chase’s dark eyebrows slanted into an almost imperceptible frown. He could have sworn he had been discreet and inconspicuous when he had met Lord Brumby. In fact, he knew he had been. He had consciously kept his face impassive and his stance relaxed the moment Brumby confirmed that he was indeed Darlouney’s second contact.

  Chase calculated the impact of Millie’s unnerving and dangerous ability to discern his reactions to supposedly casual meetings. After her detection of Sir Edward in disguise, he should have anticipated Millie would recognize and comprehend which of his meetings involved ulterior motives, and which did not.

  Millie had been correct. While not ideal, his long-awaited conversation with Lord Brumby had gone well. And while Brumby did not feel comfortable speaking tonight, he had promised to meet the next morning. Gathering together the remaining members of the secret group and analyzing what they knew, Chase hoped they would soon be able to discern the traitor’s identity and bring him to justice. Then he could concentrate on more pleasing aspects of his homecoming. Before long, he might even be able to plan his future and consider the idea of a life with a spunky female who looked devastatingly attractive when she had a mind to.

  Misinterpreting Chase’s prolonged silence as apprehension, Millie fought to remain calm as he lingered beside her. “Charlie, do be at ease. I am quite positive I am the only one who noticed your conversation to be something more than a mere greeting. However, if you are looking for someone to never notice a thing beyond her own self-important world, I believe your simpering Miss Hall would be an ideal candidate.”

  So, Millie was jealous—and feisty. Both moods Chase knew and liked well. “Why, my impish sprite, your beauty can hide your true nature from others, but not from me.”

  “Meaning?” Millie inquired, her scowl matching her crisp tones.

  Despite the brittleness in Millie’s voice warning him to retreat, Chase decided to tell her the truth. “Meaning, you are magnificent tonight, Millie. I do not believe I have ever seen anyone lovelier. But I know you, and while the world might be seeing a paragon of virtue and a shining example of grace and manners, I know you are a fraud.”

  She whirled around to face him, glaring at him with burning, reproachful eyes. “A fraud?” she hissed. “How dare you, Charlie Wentworth! How dare you call me a fraud after all your covert meetings this evening.”

  Chase briefly skimmed the crowd around them to confirm no one had overheard her. “Calm down. You are attracting attention.”

  Millie’s dark lavender eyes were
blazing with fury. Drawn in by their threatening beauty, Chase had to suppress an impulse to pull her toward him and kiss her into submission. “I only meant I know you would rather be anywhere than here right now.” Holding her gaze so she would see his sincerity, he added, “As would I.”

  Millie had felt the sexual pull between them since Chase had moved to her side, but not until he whispered those three words did she realize he had also been suffering. She swallowed and tried to direct the conversation to something neutral and safe. “I wish I did enjoy these parties and small, meaningless conversations—for your mother’s sake as well as my father’s. They so want us to be a success this Season.”

  “Trust me, you are.” Knowing key members of Society had been observing the male vultures circle round Millie, Jennelle, and his sister, Chase was positive that, after tonight, the ton would spread the word about London’s three newest diamonds of the first water. Selena’s continual snide comments about Jennelle and Millie were all the proof he needed that the Daring Three were encroaching upon what Miss Hall considered her private territory.

  Millie unconsciously studied Chase’s square jaw. Her lips ached for his touch and longed to be crushed beneath his own. Her growing desire for him was becoming near impossible to resist.

  Millie took a firm grip on her nerves. “Appears that you, too, are a success. Miss Hall cannot seem to find any place to put her hands except on you. How in the world is she coping with your absence?”

  Trapped by his unpleasant decision, Chase could not deny Millie’s observations. He had his own reasons for encouraging the clingy woman, and they were not ones he wished to explain. He longed for a smooth, simple defense justifying his actions, something that would pacify Millie. But in her current mood that idea was implausible—at least with people watching. “She flocks to my title, not to me.”

  Not remotely mollified, Millie retorted, “There is more to you than your title, and trust me—she knows it.”

  Chase couldn’t help himself and smiled. The sound of jealousy had never before been even remotely appealing, but now—coming from Millie—it was like music. He wanted to hear more. “Care to expound?”

  Realizing she had been caught by her own admission, Millie tried to make light of the remark. “You are an extremely handsome man, Charlie. Unfortunately, I have known you too long to be deceived by your good looks. You are much too perverse and tall to be truly attractive.”

  “Tall?”

  “Indeed. You try to frighten and pressure one with your height. You enjoy your ability to hover when you argue a point.” Her violet eyes reflected the light from the chandeliers, making them more difficult to read. “Do you not notice how even now I must crane my head to speak with you?”

  Her attempt at levity backfired. Instead of humor, hot, intense, sexual desire blazed in his eyes. Chase reached out to catch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her still so that she could not break from his dangerously compelling eyes. “It does not seem to work with you.”

  Her pulse raced as Millie felt the electricity of his touch. “That is because you cannot intimidate me. You said you know me; well, I know you,” she barely whispered.

  Chase’s heart was pounding so loudly he thought the whole room could hear. Touching her soft skin seemed to prevent his ability to breathe. He let go and asked, “And who am I, precisely?”

  He was no longer holding her, but she could not tear her eyes from his piercing gaze. “Somebody haunted, like me. I just choose to react differently to my ghosts.”

  Her words pierced him. Gone was Millie’s false confidence, her flippancy, her jealousy. Before him stood his soul mate, and suddenly he needed to be alone with her.

  But just as he was going to guide her away from the ever-increasing mass of attendees, Neville Marston parked himself at Millie’s elbow.

  “Excuse me, Lady Aldon. May I ask you for a turn on the floor?” His invitation was spoken loud enough to ensure several people overheard.

  Millie had no desire to dance with Marston. Yet staying with Chase also made her feel uneasy. Their conversation had resurrected memories of her childhood promises, including one particular one.

  Realizing Millie had to accept or risk generating tomorrow’s gossip, Chase didn’t interfere as he watched Marston guide her away from his side. The haut ton loved an original, but they also loved to find any opportunity to find fault with women who attracted too many men. Turning down Marston, regardless of the reason, would have made Millie a target for the ton’s oftentimes temperamental jealousy.

  Chase felt his insides boil as he watched Marston smoothly waltz across the dance floor, guiding Millie, holding her hand, fondling her waist. Undoubtedly the man had been waiting for the one dance that allowed him constant contact with a partner, before making his request. Watching the two swirl around, gliding forward and backward to the steady rhythm, Chase realized he was not alone watching the couple.

  Marston was undeniably good-looking, and Millie was a petite and graceful beauty. The pair of them was striking and attracted the notice of many a gossip-maker in the room. Despite Millie’s flattery, Chase knew he was not what Society defined as handsome. Unlike Marston’s golden wavy locks, his hair was dark, thick, and straight. Rather than trying to force it into the shorter, fashionable styles, he chose to let it grow long, pulling it back into a loose ponytail.

  Long ago, Chase had accepted the fact that his naturally stoic expression and dark features held no attraction for the fairer sex. Only his money appealed to beautiful women such as Selena. It was that way with every female, except Millie. Millie knew everything about him—his personality, his impassive nature, his thoughts on reckless adventure, his preference for rules. But when she was in his arms, he knew Millie wanted to be nowhere else. And it was not because of his title or his money.

  Mildred Aldon was his destiny. His alone.

  Chase’s hawklike features glowered as he watched Lord Marston become more and more insistent on handling Millie. Marston’s embrace smacked of possessiveness. Chase’s scowl intensified. Only Millie’s reputation kept him from pounding the triumphant look off the vile man’s face.

  “Your keeper seems to take his role seriously,” Marston remarked, observing Chase’s unswerving glare.

  Millie smiled casually, trying to downplay Chase’s fierce expression. “He is protective of all three of us—Aimee, Jennelle, and me.”

  Marston leaned down and whispered into her ear. “I can be protective, too. You are by far the most sensational woman here this evening. Your dress is mesmerizing. I could stare at you all night.”

  And you have been, thought Millie as she twisted again. She was constantly adjusting her position so his hands stayed where they belonged.

  Marston pulled her into another long twirl, exaggerating the dance’s spins and turns. It was another piece of evidence of his need to control and push people around. Millie suspected he was much more dangerous than she first realized.

  “Seems you have been reprieved.”

  Feeling Marston’s hot breath against her cheek, Millie fought her instinct to flinch. “I am afraid I do not understand your meaning.”

  “Your protector. It appears there is another who needs his attention more than you.”

  Millie swiveled toward Chase’s last location just in time to see him disappear out of the room with Selena Hall.

  Marston smiled to himself. Chaselton’s timing could not have been better. Realizing Millie was focused on the disappearing couple, Marston cleverly spun her into a twirl and held her tightly to him as the dance ended, forcing her to partner with him for the following quadrille.

  Only after the music had started did Millie realize her folly. Too upset to handle Marston on her own, Millie quickly scanned the room for either Aimee or Jennelle. She spotted them, made the signal, and sent secret looks of gratitude after they replied with a quick nod of their heads. At the dance’s end, they swiftly came over and extricated her from Marston’s grasp
. Fortunately he seemed unperturbed by their interference.

  As the Three walked away, Jennelle commented, “Lord Marston seems very interested in you, Millie. The other night at cards, and now tonight. I believe he would have danced another with you if he thought you would agree.”

  Millie frowned as Jennelle’s words sank in. “Yes, well, he can remain interested, but from a distance.”

  Aimee looked at her friend, hearing the seriousness behind Millie’s words. Jennelle, though, was openly puzzled. “He appears to be well dressed and quite witty. Definitely elegant. There are much worse with whom you could be forced to spend time.”

  Millie stopped, turned, and gripped Jennelle’s hand. “He is elegant in appearance only, I assure you. Believe me when I say he is dangerous.”

  Jennelle was not convinced. “Are you sure you are not looking for something?”

  “What would I be looking for?”

  Jennelle gave her a quizzical look. “Why, excitement, of course. I know it has been difficult for you since our arrival in London. Believe me, both Aimee and I agree Society can be fairly confining, but let us not be hasty and label what is probably a very decent man as ‘dangerous’ just to pacify our whims.”

  Millie’s voice was full of warning when she spoke. “Jennelle, listen to me when I say this. He is dangerous. You have never spoken with him. You have never danced with him. You have never been cornered in his evil wordplay. The man is no gentleman.”

  Aimee coughed. “I did. Or at least I spoke with him at Lady Bassel’s,” Aimee explained, sipping her punch and watching Marston.

  Eyes wide with surprise at the news, Jennelle prompted, “And?”

  “And, well, Jennelle—Millie is right. Lord Marston is . . . there is something . . . false about him. He makes me nervous.”