A Woman Made for Pleasure

by Michele Sinclair

  Aimee watched as the pale silk material settled around Millie’s curves. The gown certainly did not follow the dictates of fashion. Looking at the creamy vision, Aimee remembered what Madame Sasha had said when they had asked her if it was too risqué. The modiste had been insulted and stated that only a person with dark hair, a little waist, and ample bosom could wear her creation. Worn by anyone else, they would appear like a blyad, whatever that meant.

  As Millie turned around, Aimee uttered a low whistle. “Why, Millie, I hope Madame Sasha did not underestimate your bosom.” Realizing she had spoken her thoughts aloud, Aimee looked up and caught the stunned looks of her friends. Seconds later, they were all laughing so hard their sides hurt.

  Millie wiped away the tears of laughter, thankful for the unexpected moment of mirth. All afternoon, she had been unusually compliant, allowing Jennelle and Aimee to dictate her hairstyle, her gown, and her jewelry. Yesterday’s vision of Chase embracing Melinda Brinson still haunted her. Chase was no rakehell. Millie was sure of that. If he were involved with the woman, his heart was committed. He would never put his sister or his mother at risk of ridicule. And that realization made her quite depressed.

  But when Millie turned to view herself in the looking glass, her spirits lifted. She saw a beautiful, composed lady who could meet anything life threw at her. She was the same girl who had decided long ago to remain unmarried. Chase might not understand that now, but tonight he would see what Melinda Brinson was costing him: Millie.

  Jennelle could see the effect the dress and change in appearance had on her friend and was thankful. Most gowns had puffed sleeves that attached to a straight gown with a trimmed neckline. While Millie’s ensemble had no train and no defined neckline per se, it was almost brazen the way it framed Millie’s figure. Madame Sasha was right. Only someone with Millie’s coloring and figure could pull off this look and still look pure.

  The gown was an off-the-shoulder, egg-white-colored dream that gave her skin a porcelain effect. The silk was pleated all around, but instead of gathering underneath her bosom or at the back, it loosely hugged her petite figure at her waist before fanning out to the bottom. A small bit of lace trimmed the petite sleeves and the top of the gown. The hemline was straight and unruffled.

  Jennelle had declared jewelry unnecessary. The only adornment Millie was to wear was her amethyst pendant, something Chase had hinted that she should wear that evening. Her hair was piled in soft curls with a single thick coil hanging over her shoulder, giving a look of innocence that countered the alluring essence of the gown. The final element was a sheer shawl, adorned with small pearls scattered over its surface, draped softly across her shoulders. Millie was the perfect combination of the forbidden yet tempting maiden.

  Upon his mother’s insistence, Chase had agreed to act as the Three’s chaperone to Lady Sefton’s. It allowed him to feign reluctance in attending the event while enabling him to execute his plan. If all went as planned, his sudden, unanticipated revelation would rattle his adversary, making him vulnerable.

  At first, Chase thought arranging to meet the Three at the ball was exceptionally clever. He could execute his chaperone duties with just a few nods and hellos while keeping a safe, but observant distance from Millie. But when Chase saw her, he became instantly aware of every man in the room besides himself.

  Possessiveness slammed through him as he watched men openly admire the one woman he considered his. He wished he had the power of ordering Millie to return home and dress into something less . . . imaginative. Objectively he realized her garment exposed nothing except her shoulders. But unlike her other gowns, it made the male mind wander with lascivious thoughts. The instant he saw her in it, he envisioned her naked in his arms. He was positive that every man between the ages of seventeen and ninety was envisioning her the same way, which only inflamed his state of anger.

  Chase covertly watched as Millie worked the crowd. She was stunning. Mixed emotions stirred within him. Pride that she would soon be his. Satisfaction that he was the only man in the world who knew what passion lurked beneath those soft feminine tresses. A deep sense of possessiveness that grew stronger every time she was near. And an overwhelming sense of fear.

  She was wearing the pendant. He was certain she would be after he blatantly mentioned it that morning when he stopped by to verify the timing of their departure. But seeing it on her, realizing what he was about to do, sent a shiver of apprehension through him—something he had never before experienced.

  Chase wanted nothing more than to stand by her side the whole evening, not only to ensure himself of her well-being, but to convey to everyone present she was his. However, he knew any announcement—verbal or implied—about Lady Mildred Aldon becoming the next Marchioness of Chaselton would only put her in even more danger. If his enemies realized how deep his affection for her ran, Millie would become a target and be used as a means to control him. In order to protect those he loved, he would make the request to join the Expansionists and their cause.

  Immediately following yesterday’s Society meeting, Millie had wanted nothing more than to speak with Chase. She had almost suggested going directly back to Hembree Grove rather than stopping by to see Jennelle’s seamstress. Now, after witnessing Chase embrace Melinda, she could not make up her mind whether or not she was glad to know the truth. Best to be informed, she told herself once more as she mingled with the crowd. But as soon as she saw Chase waiting for them, Millie knew ignorance would be better than the pain of knowing.

  Chase would never marry Melinda Brinson. She had a son and was not of Society. But she was undeniably pretty, and tall, and fair: everything Millie was not. But if Chase really loved Melinda, he would need a wife who would care very little if he had a lover on the side. He would need Selena Hall. Suddenly it made sense why Chase had been giving the woman so much attention.

  Fighting tears, she silently walked by him and ascended the long staircase leading to the main ballroom. Immediately upon entering, she donned her “social” demeanor and avoided looking at or interacting with Chase in any way.

  “Lady Aldon,” a voice whispered into her ear. The accent was typical. Its tone, normal. However, there was something sinister about its inflection. It could only belong to one man.

  Millie took a deep breath. She was about to risk all. By watching Lord Marston from afar, Millie had not discerned his motives or plans. Politeness had brought forth even less information. It was time to see what Marston might say when angered.

  “Lord Marston,” Millie replied with tediousness, refusing to turn around.

  The insult was not lost. “You make it clear that I bore you, madam. And if you would risk looking at me directly, I am sure that I would see antipathy in those rare-colored depths.”

  Millie continued to stare straight ahead into the crowd. “Then you and I are both in good fortune. I will not have to endure looking at you to ensure I am understood, and you will be spared seeing the disdain I have for someone who pathetically attempts to manhandle those he believes are weaker.”

  Marston saw red. For one blistering instant, he nearly lost his temper and disclosed more than he intended. “I am a dangerous man, madam. One you should not cross.”

  Millie turned slowly; cold anger hissed to life. “You do not intimidate me, Lord Marston. You annoy me. It is not surprising that green and unwise girls fall so easily at your feet. No doubt, you cannot understand why I do not. However, I think you are just a little too perfect, a little too polished, and definitely too smooth. In summation, I do not think you to be honorable or trustworthy.”

  Marston’s eyes narrowed to thin slits that fully reflected his tightly leashed anger before he carefully responded. “Until we meet again, my lady. I believe our next encounter will go more my way.”

  Millie’s heart was racing. The moment of imminent confrontation had passed. Their quarrel had been laced with innuendo and threat. Suddenly she wished she could tell Chase what had just happened. Instead, she rub
bed her arms vigorously and went up another set of stairs to find a place where she might regain her composure.

  Emerging from the lady’s powder room and feeling much more in control, Millie paused, looking down at the crowd from a small balcony. Instinctively looking for familiar faces, she spied the two men from the Society meeting who had argued with Brumby just before he had been killed. They spoke briefly and then exited to the garden. Without considering the repercussions, Millie dashed down the staircase and followed them.

  After a few wrong turns, she spied them walking rapidly toward a part of the garden with multiple hedges and areas nestled away for private conversations. If she did not move quickly, she would lose them.

  Millie rounded a series of rose bushes and glanced around. They were gone. Silently cursing her lack of height, she looked for something to stand upon to see over the tall greenery. Nothing but dark pebble paths and dense foliage were in the immediate vicinity. Conceding defeat, Millie began walking toward the noise and light of the party when she heard voices on the other side of a nearby hedge.

  She paused to listen for a female voice. There was none. Just two men—arguing. It had to be them. She stood frozen on the other side, straining to overhear their conversation.

  “Did you know what he was planning to do yesterday?” a dark, chilling voice demanded.

  “I did not,” the second man squeaked, asserting his innocence. “I cannot imagine what he was thinking, taking such an action.”

  “I agree, and I do not like it. Killing Brumby in public, that close to the girl, was just too risky.”

  “Maybe it worked. Tonight Chaselton let it slip that he does have the proof, or at least the items that will lead us to it. He says he only wants to join our cause.”

  “Hmm. An odd request that feels a little too convenient.” Millie bit the inside of her cheek hearing the hardness in the man’s tone.

  “What if Brumby’s death convinced him that it would be safer to join us?” the second man asked shakily.

  “Possible.”

  Suddenly, a third voice entered the conversation. It was very deep, with a heavy accent that sounded foreign as if he were from another country. And yet there was something vaguely familiar about it. Part of her was sure she knew no one with that voice, but another part was just as sure she had heard it before.

  “Chaselton is a problem,” said the deep voice.

  “I agree,” spoke the deep baritone who doubted the convenient change of heart.

  “Now, wait a minute,” inserted the most nervous of the three men. “We could use Chaselton. He is no coward—you saw his war record. If there was ever a man we want on our side, it is him.”

  “I disagree. If there was ever a man we do not want alive and fighting us—it is him,” added the cold man.

  The deep, foreign voice ended the debate. “We are not going to take the chance. We will agree to meet with him, get what is mine, and then . . .” He took a finger and crossed his neck. Millie leaned in closer, trying to hear what was being said.

  The jumpy man’s level of anxiety increased. “But another death? Even as an accident, there have been just too many, too close together.”

  The deep voice sneered. “There is room for one more. Find your spine and prepare for Chaselton. He won’t be easy. He will be ready for us, but it will not matter. We will confront him when he is alone.”

  “When?”

  Millie instinctively leaned in closer. “Not until after we have the markers.”

  “It’s true. They exist. We saw one tonight on Lady Aldon.”

  Millie’s already motionless frame became even more rigid. A marker was on her? She thought of her gown, the pearls in her hair, and then she knew without a doubt what the man had meant. Her pendant. The one Charlie had mentioned only this morning. He had wanted her to wear it tonight. But why? Why would Charlie intentionally put in her in danger?

  The accented voice hissed, regaining her attention, “We all saw it, you fool, but I need all three markers. Only then can we be assured that no one will be able to stand in the way of our success. We shall convene in a week’s time. If by then our good marquess has not provided the other two markers, we shall find a way to locate them without his assistance. Next Saturday, we shall meet at one in the morning at the back entrance of . . .”

  Before Millie could learn the exact location of the meeting, a man’s hand encircled her mouth, muffling any scream that might erupt. He masterfully hauled her off with extreme speed.

  Only temporarily shocked, Millie quickly recovered and began fighting her assailant by employing several of the moves she had invented when she was younger. They worked.

  Now in a private alcove well away from the clandestine meeting she was spying on, Chase let go and grabbed his shin.

  Millie spun around, ready to strike her attacker head-on.

  “Bloody hell, woman. Where did you learn how to do that?” Chase snarled, surprised by the pain she had inflicted in such a short time.

  Millie leaned closer. “Charlie? Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me!” he shot back. “My God, woman! What were you trying to do? Kill me?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes! I was being attacked, and I was defending myself. If you were hurt in the process that was your own damn fault.”

  Chase’s golden eyes bored into her lavender ones. “Well, I was not even close to being incapacitated by you. And if I truly was an attacker, I would be severely annoyed by now.”

  The hint at her inadequacy infuriated her. “If I am so ineffective, then why are you hopping around on one foot?”

  Chase put his boot back down, determined not to display any more signs of the damage she had done. “You may find this amusing, Mildred, but, I assure you, I do not.” In fact, for the past twenty minutes, his heart had been racing faster than he could ever recall. Fear had overtaken him when he had lost sight of her and it only doubled finding her at the hedge eavesdropping on the very men who would kill her if she were discovered.

  Millie began pacing around Chase, exaggerating her ability to walk without pain. “Am I laughing? Has a chuckle escaped my lips? This may surprise you, Charlie, but I do not find being abducted and dragged into a dark corner of a garden remotely humorous.”

  Chase took a firm grip on his resolve. “I was not trying to abduct you. Damn it, I was protecting you, Millie!”

  “How was I supposed to know that? When you come behind a woman and drag her off to unknown parts, she will defend herself and fight back. I am sorry I hurt you, but you should have expected me to react. You are the one who trained me, after all.”

  Chase’s expression hardened as he gazed at her unrepentant face. “I never taught you to do any of those wild moves you just executed. I would have remembered.”

  Millie shrugged indifferently. “They are old moves I created a long time ago. Honestly, I didn’t even remember them until you grabbed me. I was actually quite frightened.”

  Chase inhaled. “Indeed. Well, that makes two of us. You have no idea how terrified I was seeing you so close to danger. Do you have any idea who you were listening to?”

  Shock invaded Millie’s features. She dropped her voice to a low whisper. “Then you know? You know what they were saying? You know about the meeting?”

  The question rendered Chase speechless. His amber eyes were hard with fear and fury as he thought about just where and how he had found her. “Of course I know. This is what I do, Millie. I am a spy—and I’m damn good at it. So stop being so infuriatingly excitable.”

  Millie’s jaw dropped. “If I am excitable, I have a very good reason to be. Those men are after you!”

  Chase clutched Millie’s shoulders, forcing her to listen. “They aren’t after me, as you put it. They want me for something. There is a difference. One I can control. And I am not the one in danger—you are!” he hissed, pointing at her chest.

  “Me?!” Millie exclaimed. Then, she realized what he was pointing at and recalled overhea
ring how it had some meaning. Her hand flew to the necklace, protecting it for she knew what he was going to say next.

  “Your pendant. I need it.”

  Millie swallowed. “Why?”

  Chase sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “When we leave here, it is important that you spread the word that it is missing. That someone must have stolen it without your knowledge.”

  “Why?”

  “So those who might have hurt you in an effort to get it will think that I have it and leave you alone—safe.”

  Millie clutched the pendant even tighter, her expression a mixture of confusion and tenacity to seek and receive answers. “But why would they think you stole it?”

  “Because that is what I will make sure a few select people learn, Millie.”

  Millie shook her head and took a step back. Several questions were racing through her head, but she only managed to ask, “How?”

  “The same way I have been communicating at these infernal balls—carefully.” Chase could see his acerbic answer held no persuasion and he could feel his limited patience dwindling. “I don’t have time for this, Millie. Those men killed a man just yesterday. Bloody hell, you witnessed it!”

  She remembered the gruesome murder, but it paled in comparison to what she had seen afterward at Melinda’s. Millie felt an empty, angry, cold knot tighten within her. “I know what I witnessed.”

  Hearing her cold rebuke, Chase’s jaw tightened. “Well, you certainly don’t act like it. You went home, refused to speak to anyone, and then spent all of today getting dressed for the evening in . . . in . . . that, making men think of... things they should not. Then I find you actually a few feet away from the very men I have been tracking and watching. You are bloody lucky I don’t bend you over my knee and teach you a lesson.”

  “Do not lecture me, Charlie Wentworth,” Millie said crisply, releasing the pendant to point her finger at his chest. It was an undignified action, but after his last threat, she felt no restraint from doing so. “Do not dare assume anything about what I did or how I felt about yesterday afternoon. And as for my dress, I will have you know I have received many compliments on it this evening. Even Lady Cowper said I was the woman all young ladies envied this Season.”