A Woman Made for Pleasure

by Michele Sinclair

  An hour later, Millie was still contemplating the undying images of Chase walking arm in arm with Selena back into the gardens, when she heard a knock on her door. It opened and Jennelle and Aimee stole into her room.

  “See, Aimee? I was correct. I told you she would still be awake.”

  Aimee plopped down on the bed beside Millie. “Thought we would come to you first.”

  “First?” Millie asked, sitting up to watch as Jennelle sauntered over with a satisfied expression.

  Jennelle shook her finger at Millie in mock conviction. “Do not deny it. You would have banged on our doors in an hour, right after you figured out whatever it is that has been bothering you.”

  Aimee nodded. “Yes, but then we would have been asleep. So, we are coming to you now. So speak up. What is on your mind?” Aimee asked, tucking her robe in around her.

  “Nothing,” Millie replied before collapsing against the pillows, resting an arm against her forehead. “At least I hope it is nothing. I just cannot figure out what to do regarding Chase . . . I mean Charlie.”

  Jennelle and Aimee did not say a word, but the fretfulness their friend was displaying over Chase was not missed.

  “My brother can take care of himself.”

  Millie sat up again. “Yes, if he is paying attention and aware of the danger in front of him. But what if he doesn’t know the danger exists?”

  Jennelle and Aimee stared at each other quietly for several moments. Millie’s propensity to look for excitement wherever she could caused them to momentarily pause before reacting to her words. They were more interested in Millie’s quiet but emotional outburst—over a man.

  Jennelle leaned over and whispered something into Aimee’s ear. Aimee nodded. Millie gritted her teeth. “What are you whispering so obviously about me?”

  Jennelle returned Millie’s earlier “Nothing” and got up to feign a casual stroll.

  Millie glared.

  Jennelle met her eyes. “Lord, Millie. It was nothing worthy of such energy. I just asked if Aimee remembered what your exception to our most treasured vow was.”

  “And I do,” Aimee quickly added. “I believe you pledged never, ever to marry unless you found a man who allows you to hunt, ride in breeches, have adventures, climb trees, and explore caves.”

  Jennelle smiled and continued. “Do not forget, he must not ever be dull, have an aversion to following rules, and possess as strong a passion as our Millie for adventures.”

  “My brother knows you can ride. He doesn’t even mind you riding Hercules.”

  Jennelle leaned casually against the door frame. “I believe he even rode with her recently,” she added with mocking innocence.

  Aimee smiled at the reminder. “You know, you are right. He did.”

  Playing with the ties on her robe, Jennelle added, “I’ve noticed our Millie seems to be interested in anything that your brother offers to do with her.”

  Aimee bobbed her head in agreement, her smile very large. “Practically leaps at the chance. Very different from our youth.”

  Jennelle ran and jumped on the bed, landing beside Aimee. Millie was struck dumb with their quick exchange and hints.

  Suddenly Aimee looked Millie directly in the eyes and asked, “Tell me, Mildred Aldon, have you ever kissed my brother?”

  Millie stammered and retreated as far back as she could until she hit the headboard. “Your brother? Why would your brother ever want to kiss me?”

  “Rubbish,” Jennelle drawled. “I know you, Millie Elizabeth, and you are avoiding the question. We want to know. Did you ever kiss Charles Wentworth the Third?”

  Millie bit her bottom lip. She could never lie to her best friends. Avoid answering, yes, but not lie. And there was no way they were going to leave without an answer.

  “You can be quite the horse’s arse, Jennelle. Do you know that? Fine. The answer is yes. Yes, we did kiss. Satisfied?”

  Jennelle swung off the bed and twirled around the room with a look of deep satisfaction on her face. “I am, indeed. This particular thoroughbred’s arse thanks you very much.”

  Suddenly Millie was being hugged by Aimee. “I knew it! I knew that something had occurred when Jennelle told me she had found you and Charles in the gardens. You kissed, and you liked it. I can tell.”

  Millie looked puzzled. “Aren’t kisses always enjoyable?”

  Aimee’s eyebrows immediately furrowed as her hand lightly gripped her neck. “Oh no. I know you have managed to avoid the experience these past several years, but unfortunately, I have been kissed by men. It was completely awful.”

  Millie jumped up on the bed and softly yelled, “You’ve kissed men and I am just now finding out!”

  Aimee wrinkled her nose. “Well, as I said, it was completely awful.” And I now know just how wonderful and powerful a kiss can be, Aimee silently added to herself, remembering her and Reece’s Christmas encounter.

  The look of satisfaction on Jennelle’s face was replaced with repentance. “I, too, have been kissed.”

  Millie and Aimee turned around and stared. Jennelle gulped under their astonished expressions. “Well, it was not at all pleasant. It was wet, hard, and disgusting. I just wanted the kiss to end so I could erase it from my mind.”

  “That was exactly how it was with me,” Aimee remarked as she turned back to Millie. “But it was not that way with you, was it?”

  The question immediately sent Millie back in time. Tonight’s kiss had been wonderful, and the memories of what she had shared with Chase still made her heart pound. Just the thought of it evoked the same powerful urges in her lower body. The kiss had been hard but sensual. Wet but intoxicating, and when his tongue had touched hers, sparks flew. She had only wanted more and more. Not less and less.

  Millie closed her eyes and raised her hands to ward off her friends as she slowly sank back down to her knees. “I am not going to talk anymore on the subject. I have more important things on my mind.”

  Aimee began shaking her head in confusion. “Wait a minute. I thought you said you were worried about my brother. You cannot be worried about Mrs. Brinson, can you?”

  Jennelle moved close. “Millie, I have been giving yesterday afternoon some serious thought, and I do truly believe that what we witnessed was not at all as it appeared. First of all, they were outside.”

  Aimee nodded her head in agreement. “That is true.”

  Jennelle began to pace alongside the bed. “Secondly, while familiar, their embrace did not resemble affection. Rather it was more like the type he has given me on occasion.”

  Millie sat back and crossed her arms. She was not sure she entirely agreed with Jennelle’s assessment but decided to listen to any theory that contradicted her own interpretation.

  “And last, she was crying.”

  “I thought she was smiling,” Aimee inserted.

  “Yes, another strange fact. Her tears appeared to be ones of joy. I believe she was thankful.”

  Millie shook her head and waved her arms, dismissing their logic. “It is not that. It has nothing to do with yesterday.” At least it is not all about yesterday, Millie added to herself.

  “If that is not what is troubling you, then what is? What is agitating you so?” Aimee asked, puzzled.

  “Something unpleasant happened tonight, and I have not quite figured it out.”

  Blond curls bounced as Aimee shook her head. “Uh-uh. Obscure statements like those will not be permitted. Is it Lord Marston? I saw him corner you early in the evening. He looked furious when he left. I thought we agreed to avoid him.”

  “We did,” Jennelle piped up.

  Frustrated, Millie responded, “The man is impossible to ignore. And I made it very clear I found his company most unpleasant. Still he promised to harass me in the future, vowing that our next encounter, and I quote, ‘will go his way.’”

  Aimee sighed. “Well, then I am glad he did not come over to chat during yesterday’s Society meeting. Especially with what happened to poo
r Lord Brumby.”

  Millie sat up and looked directly at Aimee. “Excuse me? Did you say Lord Marston was at that meeting?”

  “Strange, is it not? He never struck me as the type who would enjoy those types of speakers.”

  Millie took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “No, he would not. I am fairly positive lectures on hot air balloons, the West Indies, and the Far East do not interest that man. He has a very limited view of the world.”

  “He was probably there to meet someone. I saw him speaking to one of those men you pointed out,” Aimee said casually as she leaned against the bedpost and stretched her long legs in front of her. “Why is this so interesting?”

  Now sitting in a thinking pose, Millie wondered the same thing. Why would Marston be at a lecture on a topic that would hold no interest for him? And what did he have in common with . . . And then the answer became alarmingly clear to Millie.

  The combination of Millie’s silence and the look in her large, violet eyes worried Aimee. “Millie?”

  Millie looked up and saw the concern in her friend’s face. She forced her voice to sound light and untroubled. “It’s nothing. I am just glad Lord Marston did not see us.”

  Jennelle shook her head. “But he did. He looked directly at you.”

  Millie gulped. This was not good. She needed to think. “Listen—thanks for the late-night visit. You know how I enjoy them, and I promise I will not wake you later. But I have a small headache and . . .”

  “And nothing. Do not think you are going to shuffle us out of here as easily as last time,” Jennelle interrupted. “The blood just drained out of your face. You should see how pale you are. What are you not telling us?”

  “I made a promise—to a friend. They bade me to tell no one, not even you. And until I am able to speak with . . . them, I’m afraid I can tell you nothing more.”

  Jennelle reached out and clutched the sleeve of Millie’s thin nightgown. “Millie, are you in danger?”

  “I do not believe so, but I am afraid someone else is. If you will excuse me, I need to think of a way to warn them,” Millie muttered, gesturing her friends out of her room.

  As the door closed, Jennelle turned to Aimee. “Well, how do you like that? To think someone so little can be so effective at dismissing a person.”

  “Never underestimate Millie. It would be a mistake. I wonder why she thinks she has to protect Charles.”

  “Notice that, too? That someone asked her not say something, and someone is in trouble? How many people do you know who could make Millie swear to keep from disclosing all to us?” Jennelle asked rhetorically, making her way back to her room.

  Aimee paused at her door and looked at Jennelle. “Yes, I wonder if Millie is just being Millie. Or is my brother genuinely in trouble?”

  After everyone had left, Millie replayed the conversation she had overheard in the gardens again and again in her mind. Chase said he knew about the meeting and everything that was being said. But what if he was wrong?

  Whomever she had overheard in the garden had decided not to risk believing in Chase’s sincerity about “joining” their cause. “And why would they?” she asked herself aloud. “Who would believe Charlie would willingly join a bunch of murderers?”

  Those men in the garden didn’t.

  Millie knew she had to warn Chase, and she had only tonight to do so. He had returned to stay at Hembree Grove the night of Brumby’s death, but last time they kissed, Chase had left. After what they shared in the garden, she wagered he would leave again—and soon.

  Millie rose and donned her robe. He was most likely at one of his clubs. The best and quickest way to warn him would be to leave a note in his study. If she waited until morning, she could miss him again and then it would be too late.

  She quickly tied the loose ribbons on her robe and tiptoed down the staircase. Rounding the newel at the bottom of the stairs, she stopped short. The study door was ajar, and there was light and movement within. Chase was still here! She debated whether to fling open the doors right then and tell him what she had heard, or risk the chance he might go to his chambers while she ran upstairs and dressed. The decision became moot when she heard a second voice.

  It belonged to an older gentleman who sounded firm and businesslike. Millie moved closer to hear.

  “Come now, Charles. Do you not think it is time you explained what you are doing?”

  Chase sighed. “As I told you before: nothing. Just escorting my sister and her two friends during their first Season. I apologize if my activities are too mundane.”

  “Hmm. Seems like you are up to something more, my boy. You have been far too diligent in your chaperone duties. It must be a cover for more interesting activities than those of parties, theaters, and balls. I could help you, you know. If you would let me.”

  “It has been a long while since someone has called me ‘boy.’ Probably because it is has been a long time since I have been one.” Millie heard the curt tone in Chase’s voice and quietly moved closer to the door.

  “Don’t be that way, Charles. You are very much like your father, you know. He, too, was easily annoyed by someone’s mere choice of words. Remember, he trusted me, probably more than anyone.”

  Millie heard a long pause and then drumming of fingers on a desk. She knew it was Chase. He always did that when contemplating a decision.

  “You’re right. I am doing double duty while in Town,” Chase admitted. “Although this second duty—about which you have so much curiosity—is far less interesting than you have conjured it to be. My father left behind some items I do not consider to be of value; however, some other men do. They have made me an offer, which has generated my interest. And since I have no need for the trinkets, and after what I have seen these past several years, I am considering joining their cause.”

  “Sounds like tricky business,” the older man replied.

  Millie wished she could see reactions as well as hear them, but she was not going to risk getting caught. Listening to Chase’s conversation was giving her more insight than any other tactic she might have employed. No wonder Elda Mae eavesdropped on her so often.

  “Tricky? No. It is rather straightforward. Once they pay me for the items, I will either join them or I will not.”

  “So very simple,” the old man said softly without the confidence Chase had evoked. The man coughed. “What are your plans when this is over? England might be at peace, but there are plenty of . . .”

  “No. You can rethink that idea. No more missions for me. I have served my time.”

  “Not denying that. Just didn’t see you working the dandy scene.”

  “God forbid!” Millie heard papers plop down on the desk. “Actually, I was contemplating marriage.”

  Cold shock invaded Millie. She wanted to get up and run back to her room, but her legs wouldn’t move. She stood frozen, listening as her heart broke in two.

  “Really!” The older man sounded just as surprised as she was. “Never thought you were the type, honestly.”

  “I, too, never thought I would get married so soon. But with the title, it was inevitable.”

  Millie held her breath. Inevitable? Chase had made it very clear at Hyde Park that marrying her was not his choice. Then who could it be? Selena? Even Chase had admitted that she met all the requirements needed for nobleman’s wife.

  “Of course, I knew you would eventually do your duty, but I imagined that you would have delayed that responsibility until you could not put it off any longer.” Millie caught herself silently nodding in agreement. “What changed your mind? Some pretty girl catch your eye?”

  Millie strained to hear Chase’s response. She wanted to hear every word.

  Chase’s voice was full of disdain. “There are always pretty girls in the Season. If all it took was some blue-blooded chit that looked nice in a dress, Reece and I would have found wives long ago. No. I was searching for something; I just didn’t realize what it was until she pushed her way into my life.
”

  Oh my God, it was Selena. Millie’s back slid down against the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Selena was by far the pushiest woman she had ever witnessed. Unfortunately, she was also pretty and came from a somewhat prosperous, respectable family.

  “Let me understand this correctly. You, the Marquess of Chaselton, the most unemotional of men, are in love.”

  Millie held her breath. She knew Chase did not love Selena. He might consider her appropriate for a wife for she would not care about a mistress if situated with jewels and a large enough allowance. But he did not love her.

  Chase’s voice changed. It rang with pride, possession, and affection. “Yes, I believe I am, and with the most extraordinary woman. Although the people closest to me will be surprised, she is good with children and I like myself more when I am around her. I have no doubt that she will be an impeccable marchioness.”

  “Has she agreed, then?”

  “I was going to ask earlier this week, but decided to wait until I had put this other matter to rest.”

  Millie clutched her knees. It was not Selena. It was Melinda Brinson. Millie knew Chase had feelings for the seamstress; she had just not dreamed they were this strong.

  “Hmm, so she loves you?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. And while she has not uttered the words aloud, she has expressed similar feelings. I do not think I have misread her.”

  No, Millie thought. It’s hard to misread someone hugging you so close you look like one person. Jealousy raged through Millie’s veins. Never had she envied anyone as much as she envied Melinda Brinson.

  What was it about the pretty seamstress? Why did Chase feel the need to protect her? It was not as if Mrs. Brinson’s son was his. If he were, Chase would have married her long ago. Maybe the older man was right. Chase was in love.

  The visitor cleared his throat. “Well, I wish you the best. When are the banns going to be posted?”

  “They will be read next week. I believe I should be able to wrap up this other matter by then.”