A Dash of Scandal (22 page)

“Lady Beatrice would like to see you.”

Millicent tensed. Oh dear, she must have already seen the column, and Millicent hadn't had time to formulate what to say, how to explain.

She pulled Hamlet closer for a moment and felt his heart beating solidly against his warm chest. “Tell her I'll be along shortly.”

“Yes, miss. She's in the front parlor.”

Millicent looked back to Emery. “What?”

Emery smiled. “Yes, miss. She said she was tired of her bedchamber. Between Phillips and me, we carried her down the stairs so she could sit in the parlor for an hour or two. She's so pleased.”

“I'm sure she is. Tell her I'll be right down.”

“Yes, miss. Should I send Glenda up to help you with your clothing?”

“Thank you, but I'll speak to her later.”

Emery walked away and Millicent hugged Hamlet once more before setting him away from her. She rose and looked down at him and said, “I think this means your mistress is on the mend. No doubt I won't be here much longer.”

Hamlet barked once.

“Does that mean you will be glad or sad?” she asked the spaniel.

He barked twice.

Millicent smiled. “I'll take that to mean sad.”

A couple of minutes later, Millicent walked into the parlor. Aunt Beatrice sat on the settee, looking splendidly healthy and happy in a dark green dress. The swelling in her face was completely gone and her bruises had faded to where not even a shadow showed. Sitting so straight in the settee, no one would know that she still couldn't walk without aid.

“Aunt Beatrice, you look wonderful.”

“Thank you, dearie. I couldn't spend another full day in bed. For the first time in a long time, I feel good. I've missed so much this Season. I'm ready to get back to my duties. I plan to be down here every day until I'm ready to go out in Society on my own.”

“That is good news. By the looks of you, it won't be long.” Millicent noticed the paper she'd crumpled and thrown to the floor now lay folded on her aunt's lap. It was clear from the pleasant expression on her aunt's face that she had not yet read the column.

“Aunt Beatrice, I'm afraid I also have some not so good news, too.”

“What's this? Have you learned more about what has happened to Lady Heathecoute?”

“No. It's about me.”

She picked up the newspaper and turned it to the column and handed the paper to Beatrice. “Read this.”

Stunned, her aunt looked up at her after scanning the print. “What is this? I didn't approve this.”

Calmly Millicent said, “And I didn't write it.”

“I should think not. Someone might think this young lady fleeing Lord Dunraven's house was you.” Aunt Beatrice looked over the paper to Millicent. Her eyes widened. “It wouldn't be you, would it? Tell me you were not in Lord Dunraven's house in the wee hours of the morning.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Millicent!” Her aunt threw her hands up in the air and the paper went flying over the back of the sofa.

“Aunt Beatrice, I can explain.”

“How? You can't. Nothing would be acceptable. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Please tell me this is not true.”

Millicent remained quiet but not upset. She had no regrets about what she'd done, and no doubts that she would do it all again.

“Well say something.”

“It's true that it was me.”

“Heaven above!” Beatrice fanned her chest with her hand.

“Lord Dunraven wanted to clean my cut before bringing me home and I agreed.” Thankfully that was the truth and that was all her aunt needed to know.

“Oh, my, oh my no! Your mother will never forgive me. Didn't I tell you not to allow Lord Dunraven to compromise you? Well, no matter. I know what we must do. He'll have to marry you. It's the only thing.”

“No, Aunt Beatrice. That is not necessary.”

“Of course it is.”

“I won't hear of it. I haven't had time to work everything out but—”

A loud knock on the front door silenced Millicent but caused Hamlet to run to the front of the house barking.

“Good heavens, I don't know who that is, but we're not accepting calls right now. Oh, dear. I should have known you were too young and innocent to handle the London blades, especially Lord Dunraven. It's all my fault.”

“Aunt Beatrice, please don't be upset for me. I'm not.”

When Phillips walked into the room, Millicent walked over to the window and waited for him to present the card of the caller to her aunt. She had to find the words to make her aunt realize she would not be forced into a marriage, not even to the man she loved.

But instead of walking over to her aunt, Phillips walked over to Millicent, and said, “I'm sorry, miss. Lord Dunraven says he hasn't a card with him, but he must speak with you immediately.”

Millicent's legs went weak. Her breath caught.

Chandler had come.

After she'd rejected him, refused to see him, he'd come. Her heart lifted and swelled in her chest. But no, she couldn't see him. She wouldn't force him to marry her.

“Send him in,” Beatrice declared.

“No. Wait, Aunt Beatrice. I don't want to see him.”

“Well, I do.”

“I don't want to hear what he has to say. Phillips, tell him that I'm unavailable.”

Not waiting to be announced, Chandler strolled through the doorway into the parlor with his hat and gloves in his hand. He looked so confident, so dashing, Millicent's heart skipped in her chest.

“Lady Beatrice.” He bowed and kissed her hand. “You're looking well.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said tightly. “I do believe you are just the person I wanted to see.”

Millicent remained by the window, unable to make her watery legs move closer to Chandler. She was elated, thankful he'd come to see her, and she wanted nothing more than to ran into his arms, but she had to remain firm in her decision not to force him to marry her.

Chandler turned to her. “Miss Blair.”

“Lord Dunraven.”

“I apologize for the intrusion, but I have a special reason for calling upon you this evening.”

“I should think so,” Aunt Beatrice said.

Millicent took a step toward him. “Don't speak further, Chandler. I meant what I said to you the other night. We have nothing left to say to each other. I think it would be best if you left.”

His eyes remained solidly on her face. “And I meant what I said to you, Millicent. We have many things to discuss, but I must take care of first things first. I've brought someone with me who wants to see you.”

“Really, Lord Dunraven, you presume too much to come without making arrangements and to bring a guest,” Lady Beatrice said. “This is beyond the pale.”

“Yes,” Millicent added her voice to her aunt's reprimand. “I'm afraid this isn't a good time to receive anyone.”

A smile stretched across his face and lit his eyes as if sunshine was sparkling in them. “I think this is one caller you will not wish to turn away.”

He strode over to the doorway and reached out his hand.

Millicent's mother walked into the room.

“Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,” and so is London comforted that another splendid Season is drawing to a close.

—Lord Truefitt,
Society's Daily Column

Millicent couldn't believe her eyes. “Mama,” she whispered.

Aunt Beatrice gasped. “Dorothy?”

Hamlet barked.

“Yes, it's me,” Dorothy exclaimed with a beautiful smile on her face. “In London for the first time in well over twenty years.”

Her mother seemed to float into the room on Chandler's arm. She wore a stylish carriage dress and matching rushed hat that was the color of dark plum. She looked down at Hamlet, who had jumped up in Beatrice's lap and continued to bark. “Oh, my, you are a protective little doggie, aren't you?”

Chandler stepped away from her ladyship, who looked at Millicent with a questioning expression. “Do I get a hug from my daughter or just silence?”

“Of course.” Millicent ran to her mother and hugged her tightly before kissing her on both cheeks. “It is good to see you, Mama. I'm just so surprised and so happy, I don't know what to say.”

“And I'm delighted to see you, my love. You look wonderful.” She patted her daughter's cheek affectionately. “I believe life in London has been good for you.”

Her mother looked over at Chandler and winked. Winked? What was going on? What was Chandler doing with her mother and what had he told her mother?

“Mama, how did you get here? Why did you come? How did you meet Chandler?” The questions entered Millicent's mind faster than they could tumble from her lips.

“Phillips, take Hamlet upstairs,” Aunt Beatrice said, handing the barking dog to her butler. “There's too much going on to settle him.”

Millicent's mother completely ignored every one of Millicent's questions and turned to her sister-in-law as soon as Hamlet left her arms. “And, dear Beatrice, how are you? How long has it been since I've seen you? I think it has been at least ten or twelve years since you last visited our home. You look splendid. Millicent's visit must have been just the tonic you needed.” She bent down and kissed both of the older lady's cheeks.

“Thank you, Dorothy, but I'm feeling a wee bit overwhelmed with shock at the moment.”

“As I am,” Dorothy said. “But Lord Dunraven explained everything to me.”

“Everything?” Millicent and Beatrice said in unison as they looked at each other.

“Yes, I suppose so,” her mother said, glancing from Chandler to Millicent.

“Mama, have you seen the afternoon paper?” Millicent asked, still trying to make sense of why her mother was in London.

“Of course not, my dear, we only just arrived in Town and came straight here.”

“And not a moment too soon. Phillips, bring some tea and brandy for our guests,” Aunt Beatrice said before the butler reached the door. “When you return, bring my tonic. I think I need fortifying.”

Chandler walked over to Millicent with long, confident strides. His blue eyes watched her face so intensely it felt like a caress. “I told you we had a lot of things to discuss,” he said quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

Her heart raced in her chest. “I believe I do.”

“Are you ready to talk?”

“Most assuredly, sir. I think you have many things to explain to me.”

He gave her a curious expression. “Perhaps we should step into the garden and let your mother and your aunt get reacquainted.”

“I think that is an excellent idea.”

After receiving permission from her mother to stroll with Lord Dunraven, Millicent and he walked to the back of the garden and sat down on one of the benches near the statue. A wispy breeze stirred strands of his hair, and rays from the sun streaked it with shiny bits.

He kept a respectable distance from her on the lawn seat, but she was certain she could feel his warmth and his strength without her touching him.

Earlier in her bedchamber Millicent had prepared herself for being the object of scandal and dealt with it, but she hadn't prepared herself for the arrival of Chandler and her mother.

She had decided the first question she needed to ask was, “Did you exchange my writings of Lord Truefitt's column in
The Daily Reader
for one of your own?”

“That's the second time you've mentioned the newspaper. Millicent, I've not seen a paper in two days now. I don't know what you're talking about.”

Millicent believed him. She hadn't thought him capable of such vile trickery, but what was he doing showing up at her aunt's house with her mother by his side?

“What did my mother mean by saying you had told her everything?”

“As far as she is concerned I did. I didn't tell her you were alone with me in my town house and there is no reason for her to know.”

“I'm afraid she will find out quite soon. My greatest fear has been realized.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone saw me leave your house that morning and the story was printed in Lord Truefitt's column today.”

Anger clouded his features. “Are you certain?”

“I read it myself only a few minutes ago.”

“Damnation, how did it happen?”

“I have no idea. My aunt and I were just talking about it when you came in. Someone must have seen me leave your house. They obviously wrote about it and somehow managed to exchange their column with mine. I can only suppose they paid someone at
The Daily Reader
to make the switch.”

A light shown in Chandler's eyes. “I think I might know who saw you.”

“Who?”

“Lord Heathecoute.”

She gasped. “That would make perfect sense. How do you know he was there?”

“He came to my door shortly after you left. He must have seen you leave.”

“What did he want?”

“He brought back the raven and said he had found everything that his lady had stolen. He asked me to help free his wife by speaking to the authorities on her behalf. I must admit I was in a hell of a temper after you left so abruptly with nothing settled between us. I don't remember being sympathetic to his petition.”

Millicent shook her head. “Of course it would have been him. He should have been the first person I suspected. He must have bribed someone at the newspaper to exchange my column for his own.”

“Does he know you work for the gossips?”

Millicent wondered how much she should admit to Chandler and how much he already knew. “Yes. He and his lady are the only people who know other than my—Lord Truefitt. But, none of that is as important right now as finding out how you met my mother.”

A thoughtful expression flowed over Chandler's face. “I went to her home.”

“Chandler, this is not the time to play the question game.”

“Why? You play it so well.”

Her gaze remained firmly on his face. “This is serious. I never told you my mother's name. How did you find out where she lives?”

His expression turned more thoughtful and he said without hesitation, “I had someone make private inquiries about you and your family.”

“You didn't.”

“I did.”

Outrage swept over her. “You spied on me?”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose you could interpret it that way. I'd rather you see it as when you wouldn't tell me about yourself, I became worried.”

“How could you do that to me?”

“I had to know if anyone was forcing you to do something you didn't want to do. So when I had Doulton looking into the finances of various members of the ton, I asked him to make inquiries about you.”

Millicent took a deep breath and looked away from him for a moment. Already her exasperation was fading. It was difficult to be angry with him when she loved him so much and appreciated his concern for her well-being.

She faced him again. “How much did you find out about me?”

“Not everything I wanted to know.”

“Good. There is some mystery left me.”

“Maybe,” he said with a half smile.

Her senses perked up again and put her on guard. “What do you mean?”

“Doulton discovered that your mother was ruined by scandal during her come-out season, and that her father married her off to the earl of Bellecourte, a man more than twice her age. You were born two years later. And I know that Lady Beatrice is your aunt. Why did you keep that a secret?”

“My aunt thought it best that no one know of our relation so they wouldn't be inclined to ask me too many questions. And you, sir, were the only one who queried me at length.”

“You fascinated me.”

Her heart lifted. “Why go see my mother? It appears you had already found out all there was to know about me.”

“Not quite. I knew about your family, Millicent, before you stayed with me in my town house.”

“You didn't say a word. You should have told me.”

“I wanted you to trust me. I wanted you to tell me what I already knew.”

“Perhaps I should have,” she admitted, wondering if things would have turned out differently if she had told him.

“I tried desperately to get you to confide in me about yourself that morning we were together and again later that day when I called, but you refused to see me.”

“I remember.”

“I had to take this matter further without you. That's when I decided to go see your mother. I rode like the devil day and night, changing horses often to get to your mother's house as soon as possible.”

Fear gripped Millicent. “Did you tell her what I've been doing?”

“No.”

“Thank you. I know she wouldn't understand why I had to do it,” she whispered, breathing easier, grateful he hadn't told her mother that she wrote tittle-tattle. There was still hope that she could keep that bit of information from her.

“I quizzed your mother at length, thinking if she knew, she would tell me, but it became clear that she knew only that you were a companion to your ailing aunt and that you had no other mission in London.”

“Good.”

“It wasn't good for me. I was convinced someone was forcing you to write for the gossips and it was driving me insane. I couldn't bear the thought that anyone had that kind of control over you. Then, on the carriage trip back to London with your mother, I figured it all out.”

Millicent stiffened again, but tried not to let it show. Did he really know or was he only trying to bluff her into telling him what he wanted to know?

“You figured out what?”

A satisfied smile settled on his mouth. “Not what. Who I know who is forcing you to write for Lord Truefitt.”

Millicent spoke softly, “Chandler, you need not worry on my behalf. No one is forcing me to do anything.”

“You're doing it because someone asked you to?”

“Yes.”

“Someone very close to you that you care about?”

“I'm not prepared to say any more on the subject.”

“You don't have to. Your aunt is Lord Truefitt, isn't she? The lord is really a lady.”

“Yes. How did you figure it out?” Millicent let out a deep breath of relief. It actually felt good to admit the truth to him.

“It was the only logical answer. Lady Beatrice was obviously ill and couldn't attend the parties and events, so she had you attend for her and gather the information.”

Millicent leaned close to Chandler. “I must ask you not to tell anyone, Lord Dunraven. After Aunt Beatrice fell and hurt herself, she sent for me to come and take over until she recovered. I didn't want to do it, and I wasn't very good at it.”

“Don't be modest. I thought you very good at it. You had me fooled and you had Andrew ready to find you and expose Lord Truefitt.”

“Do not make light of this for my aunt's sake. I couldn't refuse my father's sister. I don't care about my reputation. It is ruined anyway, but if the information about her gets out she will lose her employment and be forced to leave London in shame. I don't want that for her.”

“Millicent, you don't have to ask. Your aunt's secret is safe with me.”

Her breaths became shallow. She believed him. Millicent wanted to melt into his arms. He knew how to calm her with just his expression. “Thank you,” she said, then asked, “How exactly did you convince my mother to come to London with you?”

“Oh, that was easy.”

“I know my mother, sir, and it would not have been an easy task. What did you tell her?”

“Not tell her, ask her. I asked for your hand in marriage.”

“Oh, no. Chandler, why bring my mother into this? She will not force me to marry you, I assure you. I refuse to marry you simply because we had that short time alone together in your parlor.”

“I don't want you to marry me because of that, although that is reason enough.” His voice lowered. “I want you to marry me because you love me as I love you. You do love me, don't you?”

Millicent opened her mouth to speak, but for a few seconds no words came out. She was too stunned, too elated, too confused. “Yes. Oh, yes, I love you, but I've written for the gossip sheets, and now they have written about me and my reputation has been ruined. I'm not a suitable wife for you, Chandler.”

“Yes, you are. None of the things you mentioned concern me, I love you.”

She bent closer to him. “I never thought to hear you say such words. Are you sure you love me?”

“I'm not in any doubt about my feelings for you.”

“You aren't just saying this because you feel obliged because of what happened between us, or about what was written in Lord Truefitt's column?”

“I love you, Millicent.”

He couldn't have said it any plainer, but still she couldn't believe him. She couldn't believe such an impossible dream could come true. “How?”

“How do I love you? Must I count the ways?”

“How do you know you love me when there have been so many women in your life?”