“Well, of course he does, if your plan is going to work.”
“Plan?” Millie choked. She was not aware she had a plan. She just knew she had to have an eligible man accompany her or die of mortification.
Cecilia eyed her protégé with sympathy. The girl was transparent, but obviously too tired to realize how much. She knew her son and Millie had fallen in love. She had seen them both fight it. Up until now, she had decided to refrain from interfering, but was it considered meddling if the assistance was requested?
“Never mind. I have the perfect man for you. And do not be concerned about inconveniencing him. For I know you will be able to help him a great deal as well.”
Millie was completely thrown. Usually it was she who discombobulated others. “I . . . uh, how?”
Cecilia Wentworth swiveled around in her chair, back to her mirror. She dabbed lightly at her hair, pretending not to have heard Millie’s stammered question. “Now, I think it would be best if you both met first. Can you meet tomorrow afternoon, say two o’clock? I think a ride through Hyde Park would be good. His name is Mr. Basil Eddington.”
Millie was completely mystified. “Did you say Mr. Eddington?”
“Yes, a completely delightful young man I met at Lady Bradshaw’s tea a couple of weeks ago. You two should get along splendidly.” Cecilia turned and overtly scanned Millie as if assessing her for an assignment. “Mmm, yes. Definitely mutually advantageous. Now, if you will excuse me, dear. When you step out, can you ask Susan to come back in?”
Millie nodded blindly as she opened the door to let the maid finish with her interrupted task. Just as Millie was about to close the door, Cecilia called out, “Millie, dear!”
Millie turned back around, eyebrows pinched together. Cecilia gave her a look of sympathy. “Go get some sleep, daughter. I promise it will all work out.”
Millie nodded her head and slowly wandered back to her room. She entered and closed the door. It was rare for her to be rendered speechless, and Lady Chaselton excelled at the ability to make her so. Millie leaned against the door and stood staring at nothing.
She had an escort to Lady Castlereagh’s. Her pride would be intact. If only she had the man she wanted, as well. Millie felt like crying again and crawled back into bed. Sleep came upon her quickly.
Chase paced the floor, waiting for his mother to descend the stairs for the morning meal. His mother had always been an early riser. She would be able to clarify the nightmare that had been plaguing him for the past several hours. He knew deep in his heart Millie did not have another escort. As soon as his mother verified this fact, he would be able to rest easy.
He paused by his study door and visualized Millie standing there last night. Her diaphanous chemise had clung to her gently curving breasts like liquid silver. Just the memory made him writhe with sensual need. He needed to be sure he was the only one. That there was no one else. Unfortunately, Chase knew there were several men ready to jump at the opportunity to escort her. Many had already tried, but the Daring Three had become very skilled at dissuading men. He never realized before how reassuring that was.
Chase did not know how it had happened, but he had fallen in love. He had seen so much pain, anger, and corruption, he had forgotten how to live, how to seek and derive pleasure from the world. With Millie, he would learn how to do so once again. He didn’t know what life would be like married to Mildred Aldon, but he was sure it would not be boring. For the first time since he could remember, Chase looked forward to his future. He would find his father’s killers, announce his marriage intentions, marry the feisty woman, and live happily ever after. It was supposed to be simple, and it would be once again, as soon as his mother verified that he would be Millie’s escort next Saturday.
Cecilia Wentworth eyed her pacing son as she descended the staircase. She loved him a great deal and was pleased with his choice for a wife. Her son was a lot like his father. Composed, calm, and always levelheaded. She knew Millie and Charles would be good for each other, just as she and her husband had been a good match. Millie would bring Charles excitement and keep him from turning old early. He would be Millie’s safe anchor in life’s many storms, her trusted confidant, her biggest believer, and most of all, her hero. What Charles did not understand yet, and might not for many years, was that he needed to be a hero.
“Good morning, Charles. What keeps you at Hembree Grove? I thought you would have returned to St. James’s by now,” she said innocently as she reached the bottom of the stairs and headed toward the main dining room.
Chase quickly followed, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. “Mother.”
Cecilia entered the dining room and went to take a seat. “Are you going to dine with me? What an unexpected and delightful surprise.”
Chase had not intended to eat. He had wanted to ask one question, receive an answer, and leave before anyone else came down the stairs. While part of him wanted to speak with Millie and compel a confession out of her about Saturday, Chase knew he needed a few days to calm his sexual hunger before he saw her again. Soon, he told himself, soon he would wed Millie and these insane actions he was taking to keep his hands off of her would no longer be necessary.
“Mother, I just . . .”
She interrupted. “Do not concern yourself so. Sit down with me. No one will be up for some time.”
Chase looked unconvinced, knowing Millie’s penchant for appearing when least expected.
“I mean it, Charles. Sit. I just sent Mildred back to bed. Poor thing is so worn out over these parties, and I would like her to be fully rested when her suitor arrives tomorrow afternoon. Right now she is quite drained.”
As she expected, this got a reaction. Chase found himself suddenly needing a seat, and slid into one across from his mother. “Did I hear you say . . . ?”
“Suitor. Do not act so surprised. After all, that is the reason she is here in London. To come out, find an eligible gentleman, and get married.”
Chase felt as if the wind had just been knocked out of him. A sudden, horrible thought occurred to him. “Is this the same gentleman, by chance, escorting Millie to Lady Castlereagh’s?”
Forcing herself not to smile, Cecilia inconspicuously appraised her son. “Why, I believe he is.” She turned and accepted her usual breakfast fare—a piece of toast and hot tea.
Chase dropped his head into his hands. What was going on? Just last night Millie had been kissing him so earnestly, so completely, he knew he was the only one. How could she be so duplicitous?
Cecilia saw the emotions flicker on her son’s face and knew what he was thinking. It was time to play matchmaker. Yes, Millie was going to have her escort. And yes, her son was going to be jealous—more so than he would think likely. But an out-of-control jealousy never led to anything productive, and that was exactly where Chase was headed.
“If you would excuse me, dear. If you intend to resume lodging at Reece’s, will you still be able to escort Aimee and Jennelle Saturday to Lady Castlereagh’s?”
Chase looked up and focused on his mother’s words. “Yes, yes, I can escort you three to the event, but I might have to leave early.”
“I should not think that a problem. I will ask Millie’s escort if he can see us home. I must go meet with him this morning about tomorrow afternoon and Saturday.” She rose, took one last sip of tea, and casually left the room.
Cecilia was in the front foyer, preparing to leave, when Chase rushed forward. “Mother, did I understand you correctly?”
Lady Chaselton adjusted the sleeves of her pelisse as it was a fairly chilly morning. “Yes, dear? I am sorry, but I have several stops this morning.”
“I asked if I understood you correctly.”
“I believe so. I did speak succinctly and your hearing has always been excellent,” Cecilia said, buttoning her coat.
“Does Millie have an escort for this Saturday or not?”
“I suppose it depends on your point of view. She came in this morning asking if I
knew of an available gentleman, and I agreed to help her. I am confident I can obtain one. Now I must go, love. See you Saturday.”
He knew it! Millie didn’t have an escort. Oh, she would have one Saturday. Millie would try to pass off the fool as the gentleman she had taunted him with, and he would let her . . . for a while. And when he was ready, he would cleverly disclose his knowledge that her escort for the evening had been arranged by his mother.
Chase stood elated as he watched the woman who had saved his sanity enter her favorite landau. Only after the small four-wheeled carriage disappeared around the corner did Chase realize his folly. He had forgotten to ask whom his mother had selected as an escort for Millie.
The next day Millie found herself having a surprisingly good time with Basil Eddington. Affable and witty, he was a complete change from most of the jack-a-dandies infesting the large crushes she had been attending. Of average height, he had wavy reddish-brown hair, cut fashionably short, and long sideburns. His warm smile and easy manner put Millie at ease immediately upon meeting him. She quickly agreed to an afternoon ride in his new curricle.
Basil glanced once more to his side, again surprised to find himself in the company of such an unusual beauty. He looked forward and picked up the reins. “Let us be off then. I assume you have been to Hyde Park?” Basil asked as he flicked the leather straps. The two grays leading the high-perched two-seater jerked into motion.
“Ah, yes. Yes, I have,” Millie said, grabbing her bonnet and trying to figure out a way to tie it more securely so as not to lose it altogether.
“I apologize for the horses. They are a new team and are very spirited, especially after standing for so long. I promise they shall settle in in a moment,” Basil said apologetically. “Lady Chaselton told me you, too, have a love for horses and would not be unduly put out.” He tried to appear calm as he controlled the eager team. He was wearing gloves, but Millie guessed if she could actually see Basil’s knuckles, they would be white.
“Uh, no, Mr. Eddington. The horses are just fine. I just wish I had known to put on a different bonnet,” Millie responded, still attempting to secure her hat in the swift breeze. “There, nice and tight. You were saying something in regard to Hyde Park?”
Basil released a sigh. The team was starting to cooperate. Keeping a firm grip on the reins, he chanced another side glance. Lady Aldon was smiling. For the first time in weeks, he felt like smiling as well. “Seeing that you live in Mayfair, you have undoubtedly been to the fashionable location numerous times.”
Not numerous, Millie thought. Just once, and once was enough.
The grays continued easing up on the reins and their pace slowed to a more genteel rate. Basil took the opportunity to regard his fortuitous companion more thoroughly. He had been intrigued yesterday when Lady Chaselton had suggested that a ride with Lady Mildred Aldon could solve all of his problems.
Lady Chaselton had come to his place of work in the City, very unusual for one of quality. Typically, men of affairs visited him, not the nobles themselves. Immediately, though, he realized the wealthy dowager was nothing typical. And although she did not give voice to his trouble, she seemed completely aware of its nature. She seemed undaunted by the fact that he was man of trade, a trait that, despite his wealth, was upsetting to many in the ton.
Most men would have been compelled out of curiosity to meet Lady Mildred Aldon before agreeing to escort her, but desperation had prompted Basil’s agreement.
So far, his estimation of the petite, dark-haired lady was quite high. Lady Millie was surprisingly clever, and Basil quickly found himself fascinated and charmed by her. Her mannerisms and grace of movement indicated she was a lady of high birth, but her tolerance for many things Society believed improper was delightfully welcoming. Basil decided to test his theory.
“I am not sure whether Lady Chaselton relayed to you my background, but you should know that I am a cit.”
Although Millie had been in London for only four weeks, she was familiar with the term for merchants and middle-class residents of the City and disliked the negative connotation associated with it.
Millie pursed her lips. She didn’t know how to take his comment. “Are you always so self-deprecating, Mr. Eddington? If you are soliciting a companion for such depressing talk, I am afraid you are wasting our time.”
Basil could not help himself and laughed aloud. “Not I, my lady. Not I. I am proud of being a merchant. It is others who often find fault with a man who earns his blunt. And when such a man is successful, as I have been fortunate enough to be, they resent it all the more.”
Millie exhaled a telling sigh. “I wonder if Society will ever realize how much its rules of inclusion and exclusion only hurt itself,” she said, unconsciously waving her hand to accentuate her point.
“I believe one day it will, Lady Aldon. Unfortunately, however, that day has not arrived.”
Millie caught the change in his voice. The undertones of anger had been unmistakable, but just as she was about to probe, the horses turned onto a very crowded street.
“Mr. Eddington, may I ask where we are and where we are going?”
“Do not tell me you have limited your shopping tours to only those around Bond Street? Lady Millie! I have known you for only a short while, but you have misled me to believe you were of the adventurous sort.”
Millie laughed. “Why, I can promise you, Mr. Eddington, that shopping in Mayfair can be something of an adventure. However, I must admit I avoid Bond Street activity with one exception. Hookham’s.”
“Hookham’s Lending?”
“The very one. My friend cannot go three days without visiting a library to study its vast selection of books, and that particular place attracts a diverse group of people.”
“And are you not also taken with books?”
“To a degree, though I fancy the newer ones. My friend, however, looks for rare old books detailing England’s past,” Millie clarified. She paused and then added, “Mostly, I go with her to watch.”
“Watch?”
“People,” Millie answered, wondering if he would think her odd.
Basil surprised her. “Ah, an excellent pastime I enjoy myself, Lady Aldon. Cannot tell you how many successful deals I have entered into—and failed ones I chose to walk away from—simply by being observant.” He smiled at Millie and refocused his attention on the horses, which were becoming distressed with all the activity on the street.
A few minutes later, the curricle turned off Piccadilly and into Bath Gate, its occupants unaware of the eyes that had spied the couple’s jovial conversation.
“Ah, this is much better, is it not?”
Millie smiled at Basil, enjoying the new scenery. “Better than what? The clatter of the street back there or the Grand Strut of Hyde Park?”
Basil smiled. “Now, Piccadilly Street represents blokes like me. It’s named for a tailor who owned a shop selling pickadils.”
“Pickadils! Why, those have not been in fashion for . . . oh my, at least two hundred years!”
“It seems your friend is not the only one who knows her history.”
“Not exactly. Jennelle really is the expert. She can be completely consumed by a subject for weeks, often relaying odd bits of information. For unknown and bizarre reasons, some tidbits stick.” Millie watched as Basil masterfully handled the horses. Though she felt no attraction to him, she was extremely comfortable in his company. Their easy repartee reminded her of conversations between a brother and sister; more specifically, Aimee and Charles. “How does that busy street represent a gentleman such as yourself?”
“Ah, well, the pickadil merchant was fortunate to be wise in business and soon became very wealthy. So much so, he was immortalized by a street, a now very pivotal street in west London.” His reply had not exactly answered her question, but it did convey that he enjoyed the idea of a main thoroughfare named after a successful merchant, running through the heart of the haut ton’s residential neighborhood.
Refusing to release even one hand on the reins, Basil used his chin and pointed at their surroundings. “How do you like Green Park? Or do you miss Society’s promenade of gawkers?” Basil asked with a strong hint of enmity. No longer was he containing his dislike for Society and the nobles who belonged to it.
“I like Green Park well enough,” Millie agreed thoughtfully. “But I must say that I miss the affable gentleman with whom I left Hembree Grove. Can you tell me where he went, Mr. Eddington? Or would you just like to disclose why I have earned the brunt of your sudden hostility?”
Basil brought the horses to a stop and looked ahead at the meadows. “My deepest apologies, my lady. My only excuse is that you are looking at a wounded man, and your very nature pains me with memories.”
“My nature?” Millie asked incredulously. “I readily admit I am often difficult, but I doubt I have the ability to create wounds.”
“Do you by chance know Miss Lilith Moreland?” Basil asked bleakly.
Millie thought for a second before the name registered with a face. “Yes, I believe so. Tall, fair, dark eyes? If I remember correctly, she is one of the few ladies I have met in Society possessing wit. However, I have not seen her for some while. I believe the last time I saw her in passing was at Sadler’s Wells Theater. Why? Are you acquainted with Miss Moreland?”
Basil sighed. “Not acquainted. In love. And the reason you have not seen her lately in Society is that she is avoiding me.”
“You? Why would she wish to avoid you?”
“Because Lily is afraid of being in love and marrying a merchant.”
“But I thought her father was in trade,” Millie half asked, half stated.
“No. Lily’s grandfather was in trade. He made a good deal of money in spices. Since then, the Morelands have lived not extravagantly, but well.”
“Oh. So Mr. Moreland is not titled, but he likes to act and think of himself as such.”
A Woman Made for Pleasure Page 23