“Bluntly stated, but correct,” Basil replied. Realizing he had been unconsciously twisting the reins in his hands, he let go of the straps and smoothed them out, hoping she had not detected his emotional state.
Millie had noticed but chose not to say anything. She understood what it was like to be both angered and hurt by love. “What does Miss Moreland think?”
“It is difficult to know. One moment Lily and I were in love and all seemed perfect. Then I met Lily’s father and suddenly her interest in me waned.”
Millie’s brows came together. “That is odd. I assume she knew of your position when you first met?”
Nodding, Basil asked, “My lady, can you help me? I know it is an odd request, but Lady Chaselton seemed to think you would be in a position to solve my heartache. At first, I thought she meant to lure my attentions away from Miss Moreland. But after meeting you, I believe Lady Chaselton thinks you might be able to discover what happened.”
Without hesitation, Millie made up her mind. She knew exactly how to help Basil. She also hoped the lighthearted adventure would focus her mind and energies on something other than Chase and his upcoming marriage announcement. “Mr. Eddington, it will be a grand and glorious day when fathers realize it is better to have an agreeable gentleman like you, who can support their daughters in a way befitting them, than a penniless man with the title of lord. Until then, you have me. Now, I must make some preparations. We will need to meet again in two days’ time. Have you been invited to Lady Castlereagh’s ball this coming Saturday?”
“Two days?” Basil asked, more to himself. He mentally reviewed his schedule. “I will make myself available for our next meeting; however, obtaining an invitation to a ball hosted by the Almack’s patroness may be more difficult.”
Millie bit her bottom lip in deep thought. “Hmm, it may take a little more finessing than normal to obtain you an invitation, but it should not be insurmountable. Yet, it would be better if you could get one on your own merit.”
“I will do what I can, Lady Millie.” Basil picked up the reins, suddenly feeling a spark of hope about his future. “Would you enjoy taking a ride around Green Park before we return? Unlike its famous northern neighbor, it has no lakes nor any statues or fountains. Yet its wooded meadows are some of the loveliest you will see in Town.”
“Yes, I would enjoy it very much, and do not frown so, Mr. Eddington. If what you relayed to me is true, then you and Miss Moreland will be back together before this week’s end.”
“Thank you, Elda Mae. You may go now,” Millie said quietly as she sat in front of her dressing table, staring at her reflection. The figure in the mirror seemed drained of emotion, a mere shell of the woman that used to stare back with strength and purpose.
Elda Mae nodded at her longtime charge, saddened to see her in pain. Just as her old but nimble fingertips touched the doorknob, she turned around. “My lady, I’ve known you since you were a halfling. I know who you are, the good and the bad. And believe me when I tell you that whoever has broken your heart does not deserve you. My three girls are the best in England, and any man that doesn’t recognize that fact upon meeting you is muttonheaded for sure.”
Millie turned and looked at Elda Mae with tears brimming in her eyes. A few days ago she had hidden her sorrow, but after meeting Basil Eddington and then Lily Moreland the following afternoon, Millie realized she could no longer suppress the truth. Basil and Lily were both depressed at being separated, and they loved each other very much. They had hope. Something Millie wished for, but did not have. “Thank you and good night, Elda Mae,” Millie said as she wiped the falling tears from her cheeks.
Distressed to see the most fearsome of the Three crying, Elda Mae ran over for a final hug and whispered, “There now, my lady. Broken hearts mend. Give it time, and I promise you, yours will as well.”
Millie patted the old woman’s hand, not trusting herself to say another word, and turned back to look into the mirror. Hearing the door click, Millie dried her tears again and began brushing her hair in long, steady strokes. Aimee and Jennelle were due to arrive back at Hembree Grove in a few hours, and it would be impossible to avoid their inquisition.
She sighed, laid down the brush, and rose to disrobe. But before Millie could pull the strings loose from her wrapper, she collapsed on her bed crying. It had been four nights since she had learned of Chase’s intentions to announce his banns. Four nights of no sleep.
Millie abruptly awoke, sweat pouring off of her. She should have expected to experience a nightmare in her exhausted state. They always claimed her when she was most vulnerable. She leaned over and reached for the portrait of her mother on the nightstand, but hesitated at the last moment. Without analyzing her reasons, she got out of bed and went to where she hung the amulet along with her other jewelry.
Finding it missing, she remembered that Chase had it and she wanted it back more than ever. It was a piece of Wentworth jewelry, the only piece she was ever likely to own. All other gold and gems would go to Chase’s new wife.
But the pendant was hers. And when it was back in her possession, she intended to wear it every day to remind Charlie of her unique bond with his father.
Something his new love would never have or understand.
“Millie?” came a quiet voice from the other side of the door. The question slowly penetrated Millie’s sleep-fogged mind. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Millie moaned, loud enough to be heard. “I am now,” she muttered and buried her head under a pillow.
“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. Jennelle and I were wondering if you are well.”
Millie jerked upright. She was never the first of the Three to rise, but two o’clock! What had happened? And then the memories came crashing back. Basil, Lily, Chase . . . Melinda.
Slowly Millie’s door squeaked open and her two friends entered. Millie shook herself and realized she still was wearing her robe from last night. Jennelle eyed the crumpled material with an arched eyebrow and moved to sit down on a nearby settee beside Aimee. Millie watched suspiciously as they both shifted nervously. Their worried gazes were leveled directly at her.
“What is wrong with you two?” Millie demanded. “You are both walking around as if I were an escapee from Bedlam.”
Jennelle let out a deep sigh of relief. “Well, you must admit you are acting like one.”
Millie felt her jaw slacken and then retorted, “I admit no such thing.”
Jennelle stood up with uncharacteristic animation. “Mildred Aldon! You refused to go out yesterday to play cards—which was understandable—but last night! Last night was the theater, and it was a damn good play you missed.”
Jennelle’s outburst shocked both of her friends. Aimee was the first to recover. “You have to admit, Millie, your behavior is odd. You oversleep. You go riding with a stranger to Green Park. You . . .”
Millie threw her hand up. “Wait . . . how did you know about that?”
Aimee walked over to the bed and very mischievously trailed a finger along the edge of Millie’s bed frame. “Charles. He came charging in right after he saw you, demanding Mother give him an explanation. He was yelling so loudly it was impossible not to hear.”
“That and Aimee’s ear was pressed to the door,” Jennelle said, coughing into her hand.
“That is beside the point. I knew you were involved when Charles came in spitting fire.” Aimee paused, pointing her finger at Millie. “No one can flap my unflappable brother like you. What were you doing, riding down Piccadilly in a man’s lap?”
“Where did you get the idea I was sitting in Mr. Eddington’s lap?”
Jennelle produced three apples from her apron pockets and threw one to Millie. “From Charles, of course. And who is Mr. Eddington?” she asked, offering an apple to Aimee.
Aimee took the apple and added,”Is he really a madman unable to control a pair of horses?”
Jennelle leaned in and grinned. “Mostly we want to know just what you a
re up to now.”
Closing her eyes, Millie shook her head and reminded herself that having best friends was a good thing, not a torment. “He is a friend of Mother Wentworth’s. The team was new and spirited and he actually handled them exceedingly well. And as for what I am up to—a favor.”
Aimee paused just before she was about to clamp her teeth down on the red apple. “A favor? What favor? Why were we not told?”
“Mr. Eddington is in love with Lily Moreland, and after calling on her yesterday afternoon I have concluded that she is very much in love with him.” Millie took a bite of the apple, enjoying herself for the first time in days. “Thanks for this, by the way.”
Jennelle shrugged and leaned against the sturdy bedpost. “Thought you might be starving, and you are not leaving here until Aimee and I are satisfied. So, if Mr. Eddington loves Miss Moreland, and she feels the same about him, where’s the difficulty? Where does this ‘favor’ come in?”
Millie took a deep breath. “Well, to explain I have to go back to last Saturday night.”
“The night you dismissed us,” Jennelle said.
“I never dismissed you. . . .”
“Yes, you did,” Aimee scoffed.
“I believe I explained that I had to warn a friend about something. What I neglected to tell you was that it was your brother, Aimee . . . and that he is getting married.”
“Married? You are getting married?” Aimee asked, practically falling off her chair. “And you didn’t tell us?”
Seeing the unhappiness swimming in Millie’s eyes, Jennelle realized the truth. “You went down to warn Charles and somehow discovered he was getting married . . . to someone else.”
Millie swallowed heavily and continued. “Yes, uh . . . well, back to your original question about Mr. Eddington and Miss Moreland. When I went down to write a note warning your brother, I overheard his announcement and . . . he caught me. I was so shocked by his declaration of love, I blurted out some crazy comment about having an escort to Lady Castlereagh’s ball.”
Aimee’s eyes popped open. “And you went to Mother for help.” She clicked her tongue several times, her mind whirling as she visualized the resulting sequence of events. “Knowing Mother, she gave you someone who needed your assistance as well . . . hence, the favor you spoke of.”
Jennelle moved to sit on the bed beside Millie. “So it looks as if we have three problems to solve. One easy, one moderately difficult, and one dangerously complex. Let’s start with the easy one. What is your plan to get Miss Moreland and Mr. Eddington together? That is the favor, is it not?”
Seeing Millie nod, Aimee grimaced and joined them on the bed. “That might be more difficult than you think, Jennelle. At the last party, I overheard Lily’s father refer to someone—whom I now assume was Mr. Eddington—as a mushroom.”
Millie sat back, her mouth gaping. “He did?”
Aimee nodded. “He said a wealthy merchant can dress the part and act the part, but he will never succeed in becoming a member of the ton.”
“Funny, coming from him. I thought Mr. Moreland was the son of a trader,” Jennelle hummed.
Millie shook her head. “Grandson. It seems he has a very short memory regarding his ancestry and how the Morelands arrived at their current station in Society.”
“Well, he definitely does not want his daughter reversing all of his efforts. The man has spent great energy separating himself from his past and will not be easily persuaded to throw it away on a baseborn person who, as the ton say, ‘does not keep his place.’” Aimee bristled with personal knowledge about the cruelty of Society’s rules. The importance of Society’s good opinion may have forever prevented her from having a chance at happiness with Reece.
Millie stood up and put her hands on her hips. “That is ridiculous! Mr. Eddington is not a gate-crasher, and he certainly is not prone to curry favor. Quite the opposite, I assure you. He has a higher opinion of the people who live in the City than those who reside in Mayfair.”
Jennelle shrugged. “Well, be that as it may. Mr. Eddington’s station is considered beneath Miss Moreland’s.”
Millie frowned at Jennelle’s voice of reason. “So the real question is how do we persuade a prejudiced father he is wrong?”
“How do you persuade anyone to disregard Society’s rules? Especially if they believe in them?” Aimee asked despondently.
Jennelle looked at her blond friend. “You are referring to Reece, Aimee. Are you not?”
“I know he cares for me a great deal, but he refuses to follow his feelings.”
“He does it to protect you,” Jennelle said in defense. “You are the daughter of an earl. He is the youngest son of a lord. He has no title and lives on a ship. He knows your father would never have approved.”
“My father would have approved! He loved Reece as a son.”
“Maybe,” Jennelle conceded. “Mr. Hamilton has made quite a profit from his trips abroad. You just have to persuade him that his lack of title is meaningless to you.”
“Believe me, I have tried. That is why I think you are doomed. You will never change Mr. Moreland’s opinion. Why should he change it? He’s not the one in love.”
Millie suddenly stopped pacing. “That’s it! That’s the solution!”
“What?” Aimee asked, frowning.
“You just said it. We are appealing to the wrong person. It’s the oldest ploy in the book, but it will work.”
“What will? Will it work for me?”
Millie pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not exactly, as it is Reece who is your biggest obstacle. In Mr. Eddington’s case, Mr. Moreland’s prejudice is the key.”
“What is your plan?” Jennelle asked pointedly, unable to hide her curiosity.
“I plan to make Lily Moreland jealous.”
“How?”
“It is not the how, Jennelle. It is the who, and the who is me,” Millie answered, grinning.
Aimee clapped her hands together. “Oooh, that is brilliant. Your approval of Mr. Eddington will get him accepted by most of Society and . . .”
“. . . and if Lily genuinely loves this Mr. Eddington . . .” Jennelle murmured.
Millie took a bite of the apple she had been holding. “She does,” she mumbled between chews. “I met with her yesterday.”
“. . . then she will not take kindly to seeing him with you,” Jennelle finished. She stood up and grabbed Millie’s hands. “Oh, this is perfect. This may even solve problem number two.”
Aimee’s brows furrowed. “Yes, what were problems two and three?”
“Problem number two is Charles and Millie. And Millie, do not even try to persuade me that your feelings are those of a sister. I saw your face the day we saw Charles with Mrs. Brinson. You love him.”
Aimee jumped up and hugged her friend. “Why, that’s wonderful! Jennelle and I had guessed as much the other night when you told us you enjoyed his kisses.”
Millie took a couple of steps back and uncharacteristically began wringing her hands. “No, you do not understand. He is going to marry someone else and is planning on announcing the engagement this Saturday!”
Jennelle took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Do you have any idea who?”
“I only know what you do . . . and that it is not me. He only mentioned marriage once in my presence, and it was with extreme antipathy toward the idea of our forming a ‘permanent commitment.’”
“But you kissed. Charles would not play with your feelings. He just wouldn’t. Mother and I would never forgive him.”
Millie shrugged her shoulders and sank into a chair by the hearth. “Those kisses can easily be explained away. One was at Vauxhall when he was trying to hide us from other couples.”
“Kisses? As in he has kissed you more than once?” Jennelle asked.
“Did you not just hear what I said? They are explainable. If it had been you he caught that night, Jennelle, then you would have been the one he kissed.”
Aimee drew a breath. “
I don’t think so. And by the look on your face, neither do you. There is more than what you are telling us. You, of all people, would not fall in love with the most self-controlled man in England, based on a few ‘explainable’ kisses.”
Tapping her finger on her lips, Jennelle started thinking aloud. “In every book I read, when one lover gets discarded by the other, they try to kill themselves by throwing themselves off a cliff or drinking poison. Remember the play we saw last night, Aimee? You do not plan on doing yourself harm, do you, Millie?”
Millie looked at her friend and scrunched her nose. “Bloody hell, Jennelle. Your books do give you the most strange and bizarre ideas.”
“Of course she isn’t going to hurt herself,” Aimee said definitively. “Our Millie is going to find a way to get her man.”
“No, I am not,” Millie said, instinctively retreating farther into the chair. “If the dolt wants to marry someone else, then let him. I do not want a man who would even for a moment consider settling down with someone dull and unexciting. No. She may have Charles Wentworth,” she finished, wiping away a stray tear.
Aimee got mad. “Millie Aldon, you coward. You want something now more than you have ever wanted anything else in your life. Don’t try to deny it.”
Jennelle bit her bottom lip. “Aimee is correct. You are crying, and you never do.”
Aimee nodded. “That’s right. That proves my point. You want my brother, and instead of exhibiting your normal obstinacy when you are told you cannot have something, you are surrendering.”
“I am not surrendering. I’m being practical. I cannot win him now that he is . . . wants . . . is going to . . .” Millie stammered.
Aimee went over and clutched her friend’s hands in her own. “Millie! Do you not understand? With your plan, you are going to get Charles back at the same time and in the same manner that you are getting Lily for Mr. Eddington. You will make him jealous!”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Millie exclaimed, leaving her chair and heading to the window.
Aimee’s hands found a place on her hips. “Now, you may be the ringleader of adventures around here, but I know how to capture a man. I captured Reece, didn’t I?”
A Woman Made for Pleasure Page 24