by Wendy Vella
“It is well and good to aim high, my girl, but that will not happen if you do not follow Milly’s advice, and even then it is highly unlikely.”
Thankfully, it was not she who had to be the voice of reason all the time. Lady Wimplestow was more than happy to do so.
“Now we are to go shopping, so let’s hear no more about earls, if you please.”
The pretty village of Stonleigh had tall trees guiding them into the main street, and a river bordering its left side. Milly thought it would be a lovely place to explore on a warm summer’s day. However, today was not that day.
“Spindle, of course, has superior shops, but for dresses, there is none better than Mrs. Pike,” Lady Wimplestow said as the carriage stopped.
The ladies stepped down to a cold wind that had Milly hurrying behind Lady Wimplestow and Apple-blossom into the dressmaker’s.
Milly explained that she wanted something with fewer frills and in light colors for the ball. Mrs. Pike, the dressmaker, had a sharp eye, and assured Milly she had read every copy of La Belle Assemblée, and knew what was what in fashion. Her words soon proved to be accurate, as she fitted Apple-blossom and then Lady Wimplestow for their new dresses.
“But surely just a few frills, Milly?”
“One on the hem, but no ruffles around the neck, Apple-blossom.” Milly stood firm against the pleading look in the girl’s eyes. Ruffles made her already substantial bust look bigger.
She managed to get her way with the dress for the ball, but yielded on two day dresses to allow a small ruffle on the neck and some bows sewn into the bodice.
“Good morning, Lady English, Miss English.”
Milly turned to see who Apple-blossom was talking to, and found a pretty young lady, accompanied by an elder woman, whom she recognized. Her heart gave a painful kick in her chest as Lady English glanced her way. Retreating, Milly moved to the rear and looked into a cabinet filled with accessories, as she listened to the conversation. She had met Lady English several times during her time in society. The woman was nasty and a vicious gossip. Many a young girl had been abused by her caustic tongue. She had not insulted Milly, as she was a Marquess’s daughter, and therefore “worthy,” especially after her engagement was announced.
“I declare, Miss Wimplestow, that dress is... ah, well it’s most unusual.”
Milly could hear the disdain in Lady English’s voice, and hated that she could do nothing about it. Looking at Apple-blossom, she watched her shoulders hunch as she inched closer to her mother.
Her dress was ill-suited to her coloring, but that did not call for insult from anyone.
“There is nothing wrong with my daughter’s dress, Lady English, and I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head.”
The sharp intake of breath made Milly smile. She cheered silently for Lady Wimplestow.
“Well, I am sure if you do not want to take guidance form someone who walks in society, then I shall not be obliged to offer it again. But be it on your own head if your season is a failure, Miss Wimplestow.”
Lady English then sailed from the shop with her head high, her daughter falling in behind.
Milly moved back to her charge.
“Now, Apple-blossom, you’ll not worry about that woman. People like her have no friends, and are unhappy, so they feel they must attack others.”
“But why, Mama? I am no threat to her daughter. Indeed, Miss English is so pretty, whereas I know I am not.”
“Oh, but you are,” Milly rushed to add. “In so many more ways than just your face, Apple-blossom.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Milly took the girl’s hand. “You are intelligent, funny, and wonderful to converse with. You ride better than any woman I have seen, and you are pretty.”
Apple-blossom sniffed, so her mother handed her a handkerchief. It was gray and the lace torn.
“Those are lovely words, Milly, thank you.”
“And the truth,” she added, patting the girl’s hand. “Pay no heed to silly fools like Lady English and her daughter, they are just jealous and petty-minded.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Milly felt the arm of Lady Wimplestow around her shoulders. She was then squeezed firmly. “I’m glad we found you, Milly.”
“As am I,” Milly added truthfully.
They left the shop a short while later, with Apple-blossom’s spirits restored.
“Now, Milly, you have an hour or two to yourself, while Apple-blossom and I visit with my dear friend Mrs. Yield. We shall meet you at the carriage later.”
“Oh, but I—”
Before she could add anything, the Wimplestow ladies had struck out along the street, leaving Milly standing on her own in the cold. What was she supposed to do with her hour or two? The Cock and Bull inn caught her eye. Perhaps she could find a quiet corner out of the cold and have a nice, quiet cup of tea. The idea appealed greatly. She enjoyed the Wimplestow family, but they could in no way be termed quiet.
Stepping back as a carriage came thundering through, Milly looked at the driver. His eyes were trained on the road, so he did not see her, but she turned quickly and gave him her back.
Dear Lord, had he found her?
Running to the end of the street, she watched the carriage leave Stonleigh on the road to London. Was it possible he was just passing through? Had he been inside? Was she still being hunted?
Chapter Eight
“Why do we have to dance with Apple-blossom Wimplestow, and you do not?”
Joseph looked at his brothers, who were seated across from him enjoying the ale he had just purchased. After a morning spent riding around to the tenants, it was well deserved.
“Because I am the eldest, therefore I am delegating.”
Rory was next in line, at twenty-seven, and then Eleanor, at twenty-six, and lastly Charles, twenty-four. Rory’s hair was lighter, as were his eyes. He was the serious one of the two. He didn’t act without careful thought, and rarely made an exhibition of himself. The same could not be said for Charles. His hair was darker, almost black, and his eyes identical to Joseph’s. If there was trouble to be had, Charles was usually at its root. He was loud, boisterous, and loved his family fiercely. Both were tall like him, and he would not trade either of them, although that piece of information would have to be dragged from him under torture.
“That hardly seems fair, Joseph. Apple-blossom Wimplestow may be a good sort, but I had not planned to dance with her when Misses Stella Bailey and Jacinta Lumley will be in attendance.”
Charles thought himself something of a catch. Young women simpered around him, gushing compliments to his carefully styled clothing and sharp wit. He was never at a loss for words, unlike Rory, who never used two when one would do.
“Those two will be inundated with partners, Apple-blossom will not. Therefore, you will dance with her.”
“Seems a trifle harsh, Joseph. Furthermore, I would like an explanation as to why we have to dance with her, when we’ve shown no interest in her before,” Charles said.
Joseph thought about Milly for the hundredth time since he’d left her at the Wimplestows. It had not sat well with him, leaving her, but he’d had little choice but to drive away. She would be safe, he knew that much. They were not bad people, just... how did one describe such a family? Odd.
He’d realized that his anger had eased slightly, and in its place had come concern and uncertainty. Something was off about that entire incident four years ago, he just didn’t know what. Her father’s words in that note had started the unease inside him, and it had steadily grown. He’d gone over the day she’d told him she was leaving him many times, and each time he’d realized that his surprise, anger, and yes, hurt, had stopped him really questioning her. Really looking at her.
Had he been wrong?
“You have been acquainted with Apple-blossom since you were in short pants. You have hunted alongside her, and seemed to enjoy the experience.”
“I did, but I wasn’t dancing wit
h the woman.”
“She is being presented this season, Charles, and if it is known you danced with her, perhaps that transition will run smoother.”
Joseph let his eyes rove the tavern. The large roaring fire warmed the patrons, mostly locals like he and his brothers, who had come in to escape the cool wind slicing down the main street of Stonleigh. The Cock and Bull, as the original owner had named it, also had a great cook, who specialized in pastry. Sweet or savory, to his mind, the pies baked here were better than anywhere in England.
“It won’t go smoother,” Charles said. “That woman needs to wed a farmer. Then she will be happy.”
“Her father has his sights set on a nobleman,” Rory said. “My hope is he is throwing a great deal of money behind her to achieve that.”
Joseph felt a stab of pity for Apple-blossom. Society was not easy to navigate for those who were born to walk with ease through it, let alone someone who was not. He would make sure to dance with her too at the ball, although he would not tell his brothers that.
“Society has more teeth than old Lord Hadley,” Charles added.
Taking a mouthful of ale, Joseph watched the door open as his brothers bickered over which woman was the current front-runner for society darling. He knew it was Milly, he identified the hideous bonnet and worn coat, even if he could not see her face clearly. She looked up then, and even from this distance he could read the fear. She stopped and looked around her, checking every face, no doubt to see if she recognized anyone. She must do that wherever she went, was his guess, not wishing to bump into anyone from her old life.
He turned briefly as her eyes swung his way, and back again when he was sure she had moved on. The brothers were in a poorly lit booth, so chances were she could not make out their features. When he looked back, she had made her way to a table by the far wall.
What the hell is she doing here alone? Is it her day off? Looking around the tavern, he saw several men, and a couple of ladies, but wasn’t entirely sure this was the place for her to be alone.
“Joseph!”
“Sorry, what?” He looked at Rory.
“Can I take your phaeton out when we get back to London?”
“No.” Joseph saw a barmaid approach Milly. Did she have money to pay for her meal?
Where is the man she supposedly loved enough to leave me for?
“Why not?”
“I just purchased it, and you have a carriage of your own.”
Was she seeking shelter from the cold? Did she need help with something? Perhaps she was running away again? No, she did not have her bag or ugly dog with her.
What is her story? A Marquess’s daughter was not meant to be a governess.
“Joseph!”
Dragging his eyes from Milly, he settled them on Charles this time.
“What?”
“Who is that woman you are looking at?”
“What woman?” Joseph could lie very well. It was a honed skill after years of dealing with three siblings.
“That one.”
Joseph made a show of looking around them, even though he knew Charles was pointing at Milly.
“I have no notion. My mind was on more weighty subjects, like running estates, and making sure my two spendthrift brothers do not run the earldom into the ground.”
“I do not spend a great deal, a fact evidenced by the poor state of my curricle when you have a new phaeton.”
Joseph rolled his eyes at Rory’s words.
“It is barely a year old, so spare me the theatrics, brother, please.”
His brothers fell silent as their apple and cinnamon pies were placed before them, which allowed Joseph to look for Milly once more.
She was drinking tea now, and nibbling on something. He’d noticed she did that when she ate, and wondered how hard it was to eat when your cheeks were stuffed with… something.
Looking down at his pie, he tried to dismiss her as he took his first mouthful of deliciousness. Only when he was finished did he let himself look at her once more. She’d gone. His eyes swept the tavern; when he did not locate her, he got to his feet before he thought better of it.
“Excuse me, I shall return shortly. I have just seen someone I need a word with.”
He left his brothers and walked outside before they could utter a protest. Looking first up, and then down the street, he found her heading for the woods that led to the river. Joseph struck out after her. He didn’t aim to catch her until they were off the main street, and she was walking the path down to the water. Then he took the left fork as she headed right. Lengthening his stride, he walked the circle along the river so he would meet her coming the other way. Joseph didn’t question why he was doing this, only that he had to. She was in his head once more, the woman who had turned his world upside down when she’d walked away from him.
“And you are a fool to have let this happen.” Joseph muttered the words as he closed the distance between them. He should have told her he knew her identity, the night he met her on that road, and made arrangements to hand her the papers the late Marquess had left in his possession. Because his doubts had multiplied. Doubts that he likely should have had four years ago.
Her head was down, shoulders hunched, and he felt it again, the worry. Millicent Lawrence had always been surrounded by people who wanted to be close to her. Not vulnerable, huddled into her worn coat as she battled the wind.
“Milly.”
He saw the flash of fear before she lowered her eyes.
“How are you?”
“Very well, thank you, Lord Ellsworth.” She walked off the path he stood on, as he was blocking her way, and struck out again, so he turned and had soon drawn alongside.
“Is this your day off?”
“No. Lady Wimplestow has taken Apple-blossom to visit an old friend, and had no need of me, so kindly gave me the time to purchase a few items I required, and have some time to myself.”
She raised her voice on the word myself. Joseph ignored the less-than-subtle hint.
“And how are you settling in?”
Lord, the anger was back, but part of that he now realized was frustration. Where had she been? Had he been wrong all this time about her reasons for leaving?
“Very well, thank you, my lord. Now if you will excuse me, I shall be on my way.”
“Where?”
“Pardon?”
“Where are you on your way to? This path leads to the river, and then a full circle back to the town once more.” Joseph watched as she looked at the path, then back to him.
“I am walking.”
“I shall walk with you.”
“No.” She shook her head, and the ribbons of her bonnet fluttered in the cool breeze. “I have no wish for you to do so, or indeed to keep you any longer.”
She looked healthier already, which was hardly surprising considering the quantity of food he was sure the Wimplestow family ate regularly. She still wore her glasses, and the padding in her cheeks, and he saw the lace edges of her cap beneath the bonnet, covering her ears.
“That cap is ridiculous for a woman of your age.”
“What I wear is no concern of yours.”
“It is if it’s offensive to the eye, and unless you are bald under it, I see no reason for you to wear it.”
He noted her wrists were still skinny, and she had a way to go to reach the woman she had once been, but to his eyes, she looked better.
“Then do not look,” she snapped, increasing her pace. “Now, please excuse me.”
“Should you speak to an earl in such an insolent manner?”
“Only if the earl concerned is rude! Now please move.”
He’d never seen this side to her. Had she found this courage after leaving him, or had she been hiding this side of herself?
“No.”
A small breath puffed from her lovely lips and created a white plume.
“Forgive me if my words offended you. You are an earl, and I am a nobody, therefore it is not
right that we should walk together. So good day to you, my lord.”
“I shall walk behind you then.”
She’d taken two steps when his words stopped her. Spinning to face him, she snapped out, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Joseph was surprised he knew how to laugh, considering the anger that still smoldered inside him, but the sound definitely came from him as she bit her lip.
“I beg your pardon, I should not have spoken to you as I did... again, my lord.” She’d started backing away from him, so he followed.
“No, you should not, but as you have I forgive you. Besides, my family speak to me that way all the time.”
“But I am not your family, nor have I the right to do so.”
Once you would have.
He was now close enough that he could see the small scratch on her cheek. She tried to drop her eyes, but he held her chin.
“What happened?” He traced a finger along her cheek.
“D-Daisy was excited to see me, and I bent down to pick her up.”
“How is the ugliest dog in Christendom?”
Her skin was cool to the touch, and yet he felt his body heat at the contact. Once, she would have turned into his hand, and enjoyed the touch.
“She loves living with the Wimplestow family.” She swallowed as his finger moved to her chin.
“I’m sure she does.” Joseph followed the path of his finger. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. “Plenty of food there, and the small matter of the family being heathens.”
“They are lovely people!”
“I did not say they weren’t... merely heathens.”
“L-Lord Ellsworth, please lower your hand.”
Instead he lowered his head and kissed her. The first touch of his mouth on hers made his head spin. Her lips felt sinfully good beneath his, and the memory of the kisses they had once shared rushed back to him. Around them the wind blew, and leaves rustled along the path, and all Joseph could think about was Milly, and how right she felt back in his arms once more. Her hands clutched the lapels of his coat as he deepened the kiss, her body angling toward his.