by Wendy Vella
Joseph bit back the instant denial as Milly spoke. Instead he collected his wits and used them.
“Come now, darling, we fought, I won, and you are still angry. Perhaps to ease this poor man’s attempts to accommodate us we can call a truce, wife.” Joseph slipped an arm around Milly’s waist and squeezed her hard. Perhaps too hard. But when she had asked in that calm voice if there were any women she could lodge with, he could not be certain, given her current mood, that she would not run away in the middle of the night.
“My countess is unhappy with me, sir. But in light of your lack of rooms, we shall make amends.”
“Well then…” The man was all smiles now. “I shall take you up at once.”
“Not one word,” he whispered in Milly’s ear, as she radiated indignation at his side. His surprise was that she did as he asked.
The room was not overly big, and looked over the courtyard, so it promised to be noisy. There would be very little sleep. Not that Joseph believed much sleep would be in his foreseeable future, as he would be slumbering on the floor this night. Looking at Milly, he knew it would not take her long to voice what she had held back downstairs.
“It is improper of me to be in this room with you for an entire night. Nor will I share a bed with you.”
“Now you are concerned with impropriety? Who will know? You have been gone from society for four years. No one even knows you have resurfaced. I think one night in a room with me will do you no harm.”
“You did this to stop me from leaving.”
Candlelight showed him her face was drawn and tired. Any words spoken between them now would be angry and bitter, so he said only, “I will take the floor.”
Her scoffing annoyed him more than it should.
“I will take the floor, I have slept on it often enough.”
Breathing in and out slowly, Joseph fought for control. How was it this woman wrested it from him constantly today?
“I am a gentleman, and as such will take the floor.” He sounded pompous, and cared not one bit. He was a bloody earl; he could be pompous if he wished!
Chapter Fifteen
Milly lay in the dark, listening for the moment Joseph fell asleep. They had spoken only a few brutally polite words over the meal they had shared in the room. Milly had then removed her cloak and boots, and washed her hands and face.
She had taken the blankets from the bed and one pillow, and dropped them on the floor, then climbed on the mattress and draped her cloak over her. Sleep would come, because she had learned over the last few years to take it when she could, especially when she had first run from London.
Sneaking into her father’s office the night she left, Milly had taken what coins she could find, and left her father a note. She had told him she had overheard his conversation with that man, and would not be responsible for the death of her beloved. She had vowed he would never find her, and she never wanted to look upon his face again.
Her anger had aided her in leaving the house, and helped her through booking a seat on the first stage leaving London. Frightened, with only her maid at her side—who had told her she would never leave her, but did exactly that when Milly could no longer pay her—she had believed that what she was doing was her only course of action. Ignorant to the ways of the world, she had then embarked on the terrifying journey that had turned her into the woman she had become today.
“I am sorry your father passed away, my lord. He was a wonderful man.” Milly had wanted to say the words when she’d found out about the late earl’s death, but could not. Here in the dark, the anger had eased, and she felt the need to speak them. To let him know that she too had cared.
Joseph had loved his father deeply; his passing would have been a terrible time.
“Thank you. He was the very best of men, and we still miss him.”
Milly closed her eyes on the words.
“When did he pass?”
“Three weeks after you left London.”
And he hated her more for that. Because she had not been there at his side when he’d needed her most.
“I-I’m sorry.”
He did not speak again, and eventually she felt her eyelids droop, as sleep pulled her under and away from her thoughts.
“Come, Milly, it is only a dream. Wake up now.”
Milly woke suddenly. Opening her eyes, she saw Joseph leaning over her.
“Joseph?” She lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “What are you doing here?” She battled to wake fully, battled to wade through the nightmare she had been having and back to reality.
“I slept here.”
Dear Lord, she remembered then.
“I-I was dreaming.”
“Not a dream, a nightmare,” he rasped. “Your screams woke me as you tried to run from someone. Will you tell me who?”
“Him, the faceless one.”
She felt the bed dip as Joseph settled his hip on the edge.
“Faceless one?”
His hand held hers, and his thumb was making soothing circles on the top. It felt wonderful.
“The man my father owed money to sent men to find me. I escaped, and after that I was a great deal smarter.”
“I wish you had come to me, Milly.”
He was so close to her, all that wonderful strength just inches away.
“I could not do so. Would not put you or your family in danger.”
“I would have kept you safe.”
She looked up the face she’d once held so dear. He had once been everything to her.
“Joseph?”
“Yes.” He leaned over her, bracing a hand beside her head.
She touched the side of his face again. Cocooned in the dark, suddenly all her barriers had lowered. Joseph was here, and she had longed for him on so many lonely nights that she had lost count.
Arching toward him, she pressed her lips to his. Just a kiss, nothing more. She wanted another memory.
He held still as she kissed him, as if her touch had turned him to stone. But as she pulled away, his arms banded around her, pulling her to his chest. His lips then claimed hers and demanded a response that Milly was happy to give. She met his demands, and asked for more. The taste and scent of Joseph filled her head. The feel of his hair against her fingers made them tremble. She lost every rational thought but one, the need to be with this man.
“Milly.” He whispered her name against her lips.
Where one kiss finished, another started, and soon she could think of nothing but him, and the delicious feelings he was creating inside her.
His hands were on her body, moving up her ribs to her breasts. She felt them dip beneath the bodice to touch her. The feel of his fingers on her skin, so near the aching peak of her nipple, was exquisite. She needed more. Wanted him to assuage the ache that was growing inside her. The need for fulfilment rose with every touch. For so long she had been alone; now, here in this room, she wanted to feel a connection to this man. The man she had once loved.
She sighed as his lips moved to her neck, where he pressed hot kisses to her skin, then lower to trail across her chest. When he tugged her bodice down and took her breast in one large hand, she moaned.
He took her mouth again, teasing, tormenting, building the fire inside her. Milly reached for the buttons on his shirt, fumbling to free them. She managed three, and then slipped her hand inside to touch his chest. Roaming the planes of warm muscle, she traced a rib, and he shuddered.
“More,” Milly whispered. She needed this. Needed him to erase the dark that had filled her life for so long.
One hand moved to her legs, sliding beneath the hem of her skirts. She could feel the heat from his palm as it moved upward, and then he was there, touching the soft hair between her thighs, and lower. Stroking her secret places. Milly arched into his body as he ran a finger over the hard bud, and exquisite sensations shot through her. Then he placed his finger inside her, and she was beyond thought, could only feel. As he lavished attention on her breasts, ci
rcling and licking the nipple, his hands drove the ecstasy higher, until suddenly she shuddered, a cry torn from her lips as she shattered under his touch.
Milly heard the rasp of his harsh breath as he lifted his head.
“Joseph.” She reached out a hand to touch him, but a shout from the courtyard below the window startled them.
“Dear Lord, what are we doing!” His groan was savage. “Forgive me, I should not have done that.”
Milly felt his weight leave the bed, and suddenly she was alone again. Her body tingled and twitched as she grappled with what they had done. Moments later she heard the door shut, and knew she was alone.
She lay there, too stunned to move. How had that happened? It was as if a flame had ignited in them. Such passion had consumed her, such need had filled her, and she knew it had consumed him also.
“Dear Lord.” Milly rose to sit on the bed. She had allowed him liberties. No, she had wanted him to take liberties with her body. All but begged for them.
“How will I face him now?”
What must he think of her?
After a wash in icy water, she tidied herself and rebraided her hair. Donning her cloak, Milly then left the room. She could not hide from Joseph, so she would face him. She was good at hiding her feelings. If he did not speak of the incident that had just taken place, then neither would she.
He was eating when she arrived downstairs. His eyes followed her as she crossed the room and sat opposite him. Unsure when or where her next meal would come from, she ate, even though the food made her want to gag. When they were finished, he rose, so she followed. Minutes later they were on their way to London, Milly in the carriage alone, and Joseph seated on his horse.
They arrived in London early afternoon. Milly tried to stay calm as the carriage rolled through the narrow streets. Her eyes were everywhere, remembering, reliving memories. Had it really been four years since she was last here? It seemed a great deal more. So much had transpired. She had changed beyond recognition, and yet outside the window, very little had.
The Ellsworth town house was a large, elegant, white building, with towering columns and mullioned windows that climbed many stories, and was grand in every way. When they pulled up outside, Milly opened the door and stepped down. She had grown used to doing everything for herself, and saw no need for that to change now.
“Come.”
Milly looked at the eyes of the man who had given her her first taste of passion this morning, and found nothing in them but impassiveness, which suited her just fine. She may still feel unsettled from the incident on the inside, but she could portray a cool facade when required.
She climbed the stairs at his side, and the door had opened by the time they reached it.
“Good afternoon, my lord.”
“Good afternoon, Gilbert.”
Milly watched as Joseph handed over his hat and gloves.
“We will have a tray in my study, please. Tea for Lady Millicent, and brandy for me.”
Like any well-trained butler, the man did not blink at the mention of her name. Yet he would remember her, and that she was once to have wed his master. Milly knew the entire household would know that she was here in a short time.
The interior was as grand as the exterior, but she knew that, having visited here before. Everywhere she looked there were examples of wealth. The ceilings rose high above where she stood. Rich shades of emerald and ivory were on the walls, and framed with gold. Floors were waxed to a shine, and furniture polished to a sheen. It was as it had been before, magnificent on every scale.
“Give your cloak to Gilbert, my lady.”
“I will keep it on, thank you, my lord.”
He shot her a dark look at her refusal to obey his command, and then shrugged out of his coat. Milly dragged her eyes from his muscles as they bunched and released with movement. What had happened this morning had unsettled her hugely, but she could not let that show, and must keep her wits about her.
“Please follow me.”
She did as he asked silently, climbing the stairs behind his long angry strides, and went into the room he indicated.
“Please take a seat.” He motioned to the chair opposite his desk, and then Milly watched him take a key from his pocket, and unlock a drawer. He handed her a sheaf of papers.
“This is the note I took the liberty of reading.”
Milly removed her gloves and took the piece of paper.
I would beg that you forgive me, daughter, for what I did.
Twelve words. That was all her father had written to her after ruining her life. Twelve pathetic words. Her anger was too deep to forgive when all he could bother to write her was twelve words.
Placing the paper back on the desk with more care than was required, she then took the papers. Breaking her father’s seal, Milly began to read.
Joseph had watched as Milly read the note, and then placed it carefully back on his desk. It had held only one short sentence and was written in a frail hand. He saw by the tightening of Milly’s sweet lips that she was not impressed by her father’s words. And why should she be? The bastard had ruined her life.
“Will you leave me alone, please?”
“If that is your wish.”
She nodded. “It is.”
He could allow her that. Joseph rose and left the room to sit in a parlor two doors to the left, leaving the door wide open.
His butler entered and left a tray, and Joseph poured tea and ate a piece of cheese, then a wedge of cake, as he waited. He then repeated the process and waited some more.
That morning, he had woken to her cries. Heart pounding, he had hurried to her side, only to find Milly caught in a nightmare, body curled, fists clenched as she attempted to escape whatever hell her dreams had plunged her into. His intent only to wake her from the pain, he’d touched her. Rested his hip on the bed beside her as he held her hand. Then she had kissed him, and he’d lost all reason.
God, she’d been responsive, her body arching into his, her hands touching him, Joseph shuddered at the memory of her fingers tracing the contours of his chest. He’d been hard in seconds, aroused to the point of pain as he cupped a soft breast in his hand. When she’d cried out as he touched her intimately, he’d nearly lost all reason himself.
“What a mess.” Joseph exhaled loudly. So much unsaid between them and so many years of bitterness and lies, and now this. The lust, and passion. The need that was now harder to ignore. He could still taste her on his lips and hear her cries as she responded to him. His mate. The thought was dispelled as quickly as it came.
Too much has passed between us, Joseph reminded himself. Too much to be undone, surely.
When the clock on the wall beside the door ticked over forty minutes, he rose to his feet and went to join her. His study was empty; all that remained was a sheet of paper. Picking it up, he read her words.
It seems my father has left me a considerable sum of money, my lord. Thank you for bringing me to London. I shall now find my own way.
“What the hell does that mean?” Screwing the paper into his fist, he stormed out of the room and down the stairs. How dare she dismiss him!
“When did Lady Millicent leave, Gilbert?”
“As to that, my lord, I was unaware she had left.”
Cursing under his breath, he stepped outside and looked around. He saw nothing. Walking down the street, he searched. An hour later, he had not found her, and his temper was once again raging. Reentering his house, he thought about his options. Did he want to know where she’d gone? Yes! The word was loud inside his head.
How could he in good conscience let her roam the streets of London with no money, friends, or place to sleep? He had to find her. He retreated to his study and tried to think as she would, tried to understand how her mind now worked.
“I passed by on the off chance you had arrived.”
Joseph watched his sister breeze into the room an hour later. Eleanor was four years his junior and looked the image
of their mother, pretty with black curls and soft brown eyes. She was vivacious and full of life. Married to a man she loved desperately, she had never been happier.
“I have found Millicent.”
Her steps faltered before she reached him. He took the hand she held out to him.
“What has that cow done now! How dare she reappear!”
Her anger was a wonderful sight, and had always made him smile, especially when it was in protection of him.
“Sit, Ellie, and I will explain.”
He told her that Milly had not left him for another man, but for reasons that he could not go into, but that there had been danger to him if she stayed in London. His sister was not one to do anything quietly, and promptly burst into noisy tears.
“Oh, I feel so terrible. How could I have doubted her for so long? I am truly a bad person!”
“No you’re not, so stop the theatrics right now, and help me work out where she has gone to.”
“You still care for her?”
Did he? Poking around inside his chest, he didn’t believe he did. But there was something there, now that the anger had eased and been replaced with worry. Passion, yes, but also something like respect for her survival, and a need to know what course her life had taken in the last four years. God, all this emotion was exhausting. For so long he’d shut it away, but it felt as if since Milly had reentered his life she’d sliced open a vein and emotion was pouring out.
“She is at present walking about London in your blue velvet cloak, with no bonnet, and at a guess, no money,” he said, instead of answering her question.
“My cloak?” She wrinkled her nose. “Oh indeed, is that where I left it? But it matters not, what matters is that we find her.”
Unlike him, Ellie would harbor no ill will toward Milly. She could forgive with ease; it was her way.
His anger, he now realized, stemmed more from the fact that she’d had no need to take the course of action she had. He would have taken steps to help Milly if only she had come to him instead of fleeing. She should have trusted him to keep her safe.
“Well?”