“It would be a shame for England to lose you. Are you sure you want to marry and settle down?”
Settling down with the beautiful seamstress would hardly be boring, Millie thought, imagining Chase bouncing Melinda’s son upon his knee.
“I am sure,” Chase said resolutely. “I will soon introduce you to her. You will then understand the ease of my decision.”
“Pretty, eh?”
“I am fairly confident you will think so. But it is not just her beauty. It’s the way she handles herself and others—even me—which has me ensnared. She is the most beguiling creature I have ever known. And yesterday, I realized that I want her with me all the time, not just when I can sneak her away. I like her honesty and dedication to those she loves. If she accepts, I will be a lucky man.”
“She will accept you. Every unmarried woman in England has vied for your attentions. There will be a lot of sad faces come next week.”
Chase moved toward the study door, hinting he was ready to end their conversation. “Well, I must say, this was an unexpected visit. But I appreciate the call, despite the late hour. I must finish up here and then get some sleep. I have much to do before next Saturday.”
“Well, good-bye, my friend.”
Millie was barely able to move into the shadows before she saw Sir Edward leave the study and exit through the front door.
She felt like curling up in a ball and crying. Chase was in love and he was going to marry Melinda Brinson. He thought her beautiful, graceful, honest, and dedicated. The very words Millie would have used to describe the kind seamstress who had worked miracles with Jennelle’s outdated gowns. She could not bring herself to hate the woman for loving Chase.
Millie huddled in the shadows, wiping away her tears. Her world had narrowed considerably. She felt she would be crushed with the weight of impending loneliness. She had been foolish not to acknowledge the true depth of her feelings before now. She loved him deeply. And had for some time.
As a child, she loved how he would argue with her but would acknowledge her ingenuity. He thought her clever, and most boys had thought her small, weak, and ill-mannered.
When they met again, Chase had changed into a powerful and alluring man who haunted her every thought. She relished each conversation—whether pleasant or confrontational. And she secretly yearned for each meeting to end with his touch. She had not realized it was all one-sided. Those few precious kisses were merely ways to entertain and control his sister’s reckless friend. How could she be so foolish to think that it was anything more?
Millie took several deep breaths, trying to regain control of her emotions. She would not have had him anyway, she told herself. She promised long ago to avoid men like him. As Aimee and Jennelle had reminded her earlier, she wanted someone who was averse to following rules. Someone who possessed a strong passion for adventures. That certainly didn’t describe Charles Wentworth III.
Then Millie remembered Chase’s haunting, prideful elocution of his bride-to-be. He liked himself more whenever she was around. When he had spoken the words, she realized that was exactly how she felt around him. She was more comfortable with herself. Her petite stature was never an issue. She did not have to pretend to be polite or continually speak like a well-bred lady. He didn’t even mind when she cursed in front of him. Chase knew and, in an odd way, accepted all of her eccentricities.
The only type of adventure Millie could recall Chase genuinely frowning upon was her love for cave exploration. She could have given that one up to keep the rest. The one man in the world with whom she could be herself—and she had lost him to someone she actually liked. Why couldn’t it have been to the well-bred society priss? With Selena, Millie would have had no reservations about employing every scheme possible to prevent the marriage.
Millie was about to begin crying anew when the study door opened. Through tear-filled lashes, she watched Chase ascend the stairs with a candle, leaving the study in darkness. She remained where she was for some time. Only after she was sure he was in bed did she rise and proceed toward her room. She took off her robe and sat on the edge of the soft mattress, feeling completely dejected as she recalled their last conversation once more.
Chase had told her he knew about the meeting she had overheard. He said he knew what was going on and that he wasn’t in danger. He was laying a trap for them. But what he did not seem to understand was that they were laying a trap for him. They suspected his dual purpose and were preparing to kill him.
Oh no.... Millie winced.
The note. She forgot the note. Even if Chase were pledging himself to another, she was going to save his life. It was not for her sake; it was for Aimee’s. She lit a candle and quickly descended the stairs back to the study. When she rounded the newel, Chase suddenly appeared in the shadows.
He had returned to finish what he had been doing when Sir Edward had interrupted with his unexpected visit. Chase had just spent the last week making everyone believe he was staying at Reece’s place in St. James’s to escape the torment of chaperoning three young women. In truth, he had traveled to Dorset and spent the past four days searching his country estate for the other two markers. Despite having carefully searched every room, he could find no hint of what the items were, let alone where they could be. Even more disturbing was the slight pieces of evidence that others had been exploring through his childhood home in a similar manner, taking advantage of the minimal staff while his mother was in Town.
Rounding the darkened corner to search his late father’s study, Chase was not prepared to see Millie once again, dressed in a thin linen chemise backlit from the candlelight. “What the devil?”
Millie reeled backward, feeling her heart instantly begin to pound. “Bloody hell, Chase. You startled me.”
She straightened herself and continued into the study. When she turned, he was following her. He was still wearing his breeches, but his cravat and jacket were gone. His white linen shirt was loose, and he had released the ties around his neck so that a good portion of his chest hair was peeking through. Millie could not help but stare.
Her intense gaze instantly ignited every physical need Chase had spent the last several hours suppressing. “Bloody hell, yourself. What in the name of all that is holy are you wearing?”
“No need to raise your voice. You know perfectly well what I am wearing,” Millie said, straightening her back in an automatic show of indifference to his sharp question.
Chase felt his usually well-controlled temper start to rear. “Where in damnation is your robe?”
“Honestly, you are beginning to curse more than I do. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I left my room, but in truth, I had not expected to run into anyone while completing my errand.”
Chase ran his fingers through his hair and roughly rubbed his scalp. The woman was going to drive him insane, he thought. Did she not know how sheer her chemise was? How it affected a man?
Each night he battled himself to keep from entering her room and taking what was his. He had already introduced more to her in the gardens than he had planned. Chase fully intended to be married when he made Millie completely his, but she was making it exceedingly difficult, standing there in her practically transparent chemise.
Chase felt himself grow hard, straining against his breeches. He could see the clear outline of her nude body beneath the seemingly sheer cloth. If she didn’t return to her room now, he would not be able to keep himself from throwing her down and burying himself in the warm softness of her.
He blew the candle out.
Chase knew Millie was incensed. “What the . . . whatever are you thinking? I need this candle to finish my errand!”
He reached out and seized her free arm. “Come on. You are going to bed.” Chase knew Millie did not understand. That she didn’t realize how close he was to losing control and attacking her.
Millie wrenched her arm free, walked to his desk, and placed the smoking candle down. “I am not. I have something to do and I am go
ing to do it,” she murmured angrily, searching for pen and paper.
Chase swallowed, as unfulfilled need threatened to consume him. The candle had been nothing compared to the moonlight highlighting her beautiful assets.
Her hair was loosely braided and her feet were bare. He reminded himself to breathe. He stood there for a moment just staring at the vision when he realized where she was—in his study, behind his desk.
Chase’s emotions boomeranged between confusion and sexual aggravation. “What, pray tell, does your errand have to do with my study?”
Millie was concentrating on her task, and it took her a minute to understand his question. She put down the pen and lightly chuckled to herself. “Oh, I forgot. I must be more tired than I realized. I was going to write you a note.”
Intensely aware of the sensual hunger in his loins, Chase responded harshly. “For the love of God. You were writing me a note? What kind of foolish . . .” Seeing the reflections of pain in her lavender gaze, Chase immediately regretted his tactlessness.
His harsh tone and words, mixed with the emotional shock of learning of his intention to marry, was the last straw. Tears sprang to her eyes. Millie blinked them back. The mockery in his voice was her undoing. Millie fought impending tears. The man had severely wounded her pride too many times in one day. He deserved whatever he got. She straightened her shoulders and proceeded to head out the door, dismissing him as she brushed by.
“Oh no, you don’t.” He reached out and pulled her toward him. He knew he had hurt her with his last comment. It wasn’t his intention at all, but he was going crazy. She was so close, and her state of dress made her incredibly tempting. Worse, he was unable to do anything about it. Chase grabbed her shoulders and quickly realized it was a very unwise thing to do in his state of arousal.
“Tell me what is so important,” he demanded softly.
Millie gulped. “Those men don’t believe you really want to join them. They believe you are lying.”
“Of course they do. But it doesn’t matter. I have something they want,” Chase said, stroking her cheek.
“And Marston. He was there when Lord Brumby died. I think he knows those men.”
Chase gathered her face into his hands. “When will you begin to trust me? Believe in me?” He asked the question but never gave her a chance to respond. She was standing too close to him. She was too beautiful. Her scent too intoxicating. And her eyes. Her striking eyes, glittering with so much emotion he could no longer prevent the inevitable.
He closed his hand around the back of her head and brought her mouth to his. Her lips parted beneath his gently persuasive caress. The taste of her tears was on his tongue when he plunged into her mouth.
She clung to him and kissed him with a surge of exasperation and desperation. Just one more kiss, she promised herself. Millie knew she should have stopped him immediately, but it was too late to retreat even if she had wanted to do so. Her whole being was already committed.
Chase felt the initial resistance in her and sighed in satisfaction as her arms stole gently around his neck. Her soft breasts were crushed against his chest. Chase shuddered in response. His lips closed over hers warmly, again and again, working their magic while his hands, warm and possessive, cupped her breasts.
She shivered as he stroked each nub, making them come alive. “Chase, my God, what you do to me.”
“Just let me touch you, sweetheart. I need to touch you like this. I can never get enough of you.” And then his mouth was on her breast. He laved it with his tongue through her chemise, taking the nipple into his mouth and teasing it until she squirmed with want of him.
At first he did no more than gently hold the bloom between his lips, flicking his tongue over the sensitive flesh, but her impassioned response caused him to lose restraint. Pulling down the thin layer of fabric to expose her breasts, he began to suckle. The added stimulus was intense, and Millie writhed beneath him.
Chase knew he was on the brink of taking her then and there. “God, how I want you. More than you know. More than you understand. I must stop now, Millie.”
Millie reached up and pulled his head down until their lips met once more. He drew her into his arms. They were strong and secure. He kissed her forehead, brushing his lips softly against her skin. And again, ended the kiss.
He pulled her arms from his neck and swallowed. Never had anything been so hard. “We must stop now, or I won’t be able to stop at all.”
Chase’s words slowly sank in, and Millie realized what she had allowed him to do—and he was in love with someone else! He was cradling her in his arms but intended to marry another. She found it hard to reconcile in her mind that he was like so many other men—a cad at heart. Well, she was not going to let him have all the satisfaction this coming Saturday. No, her pride would not allow that. She righted her nightdress and stepped out of his arms.
“My apologies. Teach me to wander around without at least a robe on,” Millie said, trying to sound indifferent.
Chase smiled and unknowingly licked his lips. “I doubt a robe would have prevented my kissing you.”
Millie realized she had to get out of there now, before she completely broke down. “Well, we are going to have to stop these little tutoring sessions, aren’t we? I just wanted to let you know that you will not be forced to chaperone me next Saturday to Lady Castlereagh’s ball. A handsome gentleman asked if he could be my escort for the evening. I have decided to accept.”
Despite the darkness of the room, Millie could see Chase’s expression turn dark and stone hard. The look of fury on his face was unmistakable.
Chase suddenly rounded on her, his eyes so cold they chilled her heated blood. “So, what was this? Training? Now that you have learned how to kiss and turn a man into a whimpering mess, you are going to try your luck with other gentlemen? Is this your game?”
Millie jerked her shoulders, turning her back on him as she blinked back the mist pooling in her eyes. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reduced to tears.
“Why is it that only men can test the waters without shame? And what have I been to you? A mere dalliance to pass the time with—but see? I am not offended. So go off, meet other women, kiss and marry whom you please. Your actions are none of my affair, and my actions are none of yours.”
And suddenly Chase found himself staring at the closing door through which Millie had just disappeared. He had been wrong. Millie was not honest at all. She had just been using him.
He sank onto the settee and buried his face in his hands. He thought about her in his arms and knew the emotion and passion they shared was unique and real. She said that she was going to accept an invitation. Meaning she had not done so yet. It was as if she had made the decision as the words came out of her mouth.
He stood up. No, something else was going on here, Chase thought as he began to pace back and forth across the floor. He had known Mildred Aldon all her life, and she was a fiercely honest and loyal person despite that little act she had played tonight. Something had happened since the party this evening to spawn this little performance.
And despite Millie’s promises to the contrary, he would discover what and who had caused it.
Chapter 12
Millie woke up with a start and sat straight up. Lord, what was she going to do now? She had told Chase she was going to be escorted by another man to next Saturday’s ball. Hosted by Lady Castlereagh, one of the main patronesses at Almack’s, those who were invited, attended. If they did not—especially if they were young women of marriageable age—they would be summarily blacklisted. So canceling without an impeccable excuse was not wise.
Millie had less than a week to find someone to accompany her. But how? Last week, her written responses had such a note of finality to them, she had no hope that any of the recipients would request to escort her to anything. Millie knew of only one person who could help her out of this scrape. It would be embarrassing, but nothing close to the humiliation she would en
dure if she arrived at Lady Castlereagh’s with no one by her side.
Millie rang the bell cord beside her dressing table and waited impatiently for Elda Mae to arrive. As soon as Millie heard the light knock she opened the door and pulled the older woman in. “Elda Mae, is Mother Wentworth awake?”
“Lady Chaselton? Why, yes, yes, my lady, she is. She is preparing right now for . . .”
Millie didn’t hear the rest of Elda Mae’s comment as she raced out of her room. Tying the ribbons on her robe, Millie ran barefoot, down the hallway to Cecilia Wentworth’s sitting room. She knocked, and at the first sound she opened the door and rushed in.
Cecilia Wentworth had just finished getting her hair in place when her adopted daughter darted into the room. “Why, Mildred! What on earth is the matter with you? You are acting half-crazed.”
“Mother Wentworth, I am in desperate need of a favor.”
Cecilia quickly assessed the chaotic brown hair and the dark, red-rimmed, luminous eyes. It was clear Millie had not slept for most of the night. Cecilia indicated to her maid to leave them for a moment.
“How can I help?” Cecilia asked and pointed to a nearby settee.
Millie bit her bottom lip and walked over to the light gray sofa. She picked up a matching velvet cushion and clutched it as she sat down, hoping the action would give her some courage. “I . . . I . . . need an escort for Lady Castlereagh’s ball.”
Cecilia’s reaction was strangely relaxed and unconcerned. “That should be no problem, my dear. I am assuming only one escort is needed, or will Aimee and Jennelle require one as well?”
Completely shocked by the casual response, Millie stared wide-eyed as she shook her head back and forth.
Deciding to ignore Millie’s obvious confusion, Cecilia continued. “Are you particular? Or will anyone do?”
Millie expected some resistance to her request, or at least a demand for an explanation. She had been prepared to fall to the ground and grovel. “I uh . . . um . . . no.” Lady Chaselton raised a single brow. “I mean, yes. He needs to be”—Millie winced, remembering her words to Chase the previous night—“handsome.”
A Woman Made for Pleasure Page 22