In Good Company (38 page)

“She doesn’t want to speak with you.”

Before Everett could get another word past his lips, Mr. Kenton stepped back and shut the door in Everett’s face.

Squaring his shoulders, Everett moved forward and knocked rather determinedly on that door.

The sound of the lock clicking into place was the only response.

He knocked again.

A minute passed, the door remained stubbornly shut against him, so . . . he knocked once more.

This, to his annoyance, became a trend. He’d knock, a minute would pass, and he’d knock again.

Finally, when his knuckles began burning, he turned and stalked down the steps. Just as Millie had done at the Reading Room, he began to peek in all the windows, hoping to find one that might be unlocked.

Unfortunately, Mr. Kenton had apparently already thought of the whole unlocked-window business, because Everett heard windows ahead of him being slammed shut.

Pushing through the shrubbery he’d been forced to climb behind, he jumped when a flock of peacocks suddenly flew out at him, screeching in a manner he was far too familiar with, right as the sound of barking puppies could be heard from inside the house. Knowing full well those puppies would be with Millie, who couldn’t refuse cuteness if she tried, Everett followed the sound as the peacocks began trailing after him.

Stopping at the back of the house, he pushed his way through yet another shrub, peered through the window, and smiled.

Millie was standing by a roaring fire with a book in her hand, something he would never tire of seeing. His smile widened, until . . . she glared at the book right before she tossed it into the fire.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward and rapped on the window.

Because she jumped a good foot into the air after the rap, he knew perfectly well she’d heard it, but Millie did not turn.

“Open the window.”

Bending over, she straightened with another book in her hand, which she immediately tossed into the flames.

“What are you doing?” he yelled.

Turning, she narrowed her eyes, marched over to the window, unlocked it, and then pushed it up. “Go away.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“We have nothing left to say.”

“We have plenty left to say. At least I do.”

“You should be saying things to Caroline, not to me.”

“Caroline and I have nothing else to say to each other.”

“You’re both from the same world. You should have plenty to say. Whereas you and I, well . . . we’re just too different.” Millie began pushing down the window.

“I didn’t propose to Caroline, and from what I’ve been able to learn, she lied to you about everything.”

Millie stopped pushing. “Why would she do that? I’m just the nanny.”

“You were a threat, and one she wanted to get rid of, so she lied. Told you all sorts of horrible things.”

“She also allowed me to see the truth. You’ll be ostracized from all of your good friends if you continue associating with me.”

“That doesn’t bother me in the least.”

Millie let out a snort. “It does, or at least it will when you’re friendless.”

“I’m not friendless. I have you, Lucetta, Oliver and Harriet when they get home, and I could go on and on.”

“You’ve run out of names, haven’t you?”

“May I come in?”

Frowning, Millie leaned closer to him. “Why didn’t you just use the door in the first place?”

“Mr. Kenton slammed it in my face.”

Millie grinned. “How delightful! But . . . oh, very well.” She pushed the window open again.

“Couldn’t you simply go and open the door for me?”

“And incur the wrath of Mr. Kenton? Not likely.”

Grumbling a little under his breath, especially when the shrub seemed to take that moment to attack him, Everett hauled himself through the window and landed on the floor. Before he had a chance to shut the window though, a peacock hopped up on the sill and jumped into the room, followed by two of its friends.

Mayhem ensued when the puppies spotted the peacocks and apparently decided a nice game of chase was in order. By the time Everett had rounded the peacocks up and carried them one by one back to the window—where he had to very gently, per Millie’s request, lower them to the ground instead of just tossing them out and hoping for the best—he was breathing somewhat heavily. He was also sporting a good deal of puppy slobber on his trousers, left there by Thaddeus’s puppy, Chip, a far too enthusiastic scrap of motley adorableness that seemed to have a hankering for fabric.

Turning away from the window to what was now a peacock-free parlor, Everett found Millie standing in front of the fireplace again, holding another book in her hand and contemplating it rather intently.

“Surely you’re not going to destroy another book, are you?”

“I’ve decided my obsession with reading has gotten me absolutely nowhere, so . . . I’m tossing all the nonsense out of my life and intend to travel forth with less baggage.”

“You love to read.”

“And I’ll occasionally indulge that love, but enough is
enough.” She held up her copy of
Pride and Prejudice
. “This, for all intent and purposes, is a fairy tale. I’m done with fairy tales for good, as well as anything by Shakespeare. I loathe his stories, don’t understand most of what he’s written, and I was only reading them because of any future children I hoped to have. But since I’m destined to remain a spinster forever . . . I’m chucking them into the fire.”

“What do Shakespeare and any children you might have in the future have in common?”

Millie sent him a look that clearly said she found him a little dense. “I wanted to be knowledgeable so that my children wouldn’t suffer any embarrassment because of my ignorance and lack of education.”

Everett’s mouth dropped open before he had the presence of mind to snap it shut when she shot him a glare. Bracing himself in case she got it into her head to punch him as she’d done Mr. Victor, Everett stepped closer to her and pried the copy of
Pride and Prejudice
out of her hand.

“Any child would be lucky to call you mother, Millie. You’re smart, well-read, curious about everything, and have a true love for children.”

Staring at him for a long moment, Millie tilted her head. “I knew we should have summoned the physician to take a look at you after your last brawl.”

“My wits are not addled, Millie. Quite honestly, my mind is clearer right now than it’s been in years.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, relieved when her eyes widened just a bit. “And I have to tell you something else.”

“What?” she asked in a voice that sounded somewhat breathless.

“I can’t allow you to burn any Jane Austen book—but especially not
Pride and Prejudice
.”

“That’s what you have to say to me—that I can’t burn a silly book?”

“I finished the story, Millie. I read
Pride and Prejudice
from cover to cover, and . . . I’m your Mr. Darcy and you’re my Lizzy.”

“You . . . finished . . . the story?”

“Indeed. And if you didn’t hear me the first time, I’m Mr. Darcy.”

“I’m fairly certain Mr. Darcy would have had an English accent, but since Lizzy did enjoy reading, I suppose it’s not too much of a stretch to compare me with her, although. . . .”

As Millie continued talking, really rapidly at that, Everett simply watched her, taking in every detail of her face. Her green eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed a delicate shade of pink. Brown curls had begun to escape the pins someone had put in her hair, and a spray of flowers that had been tucked into that hair was hanging somewhat forlornly over her ear. Her lips were still moving incredibly fast, but the second his gaze settled on them, he couldn’t seem to look away. They were delightful lips, just the right shade of pink, and . . .

Everett leaned forward and claimed those rapidly moving lips with his own.

For the briefest of seconds, they continued moving, but then Millie stiffened, but before he could release her and beg her pardon, her lips softened under his, and she let out the smallest of sighs. Putting his arms around her, he drew her closer, loving the feel of her small form, loving the . . .

A loud clearing of a throat broke through the pure delight Everett was experiencing, and then he heard the distinct sound of someone slapping their hand against something wooden—something he was almost positive was going to turn out to be a bat.

Pulling his lips from Millie’s, he grabbed hold of her hand as he stepped just a few inches away from her, pleased in spite of himself to see Millie was looking a little dazed when she finally opened her eyes.

His pleasure evaporated into thin air, though, when he lifted his head and locked eyes with Mr. Kenton, finding that man looking anything but pleased. In fact, the elderly man looked downright menacing as he continued to slap his hand against the bat.

“Explain yourself, Mr. Mulberry.”

Suddenly feeling as if he were a mere boy instead of a full-grown man, Everett decided on the spot that charm might just be the way to handle this rather troubling situation.

“I was . . . well, you see, I know it was a little improper, kissing Millie and all . . . but she’s completely irresistible to me, and . . . I’m rather afraid I lost my head for a moment.”

“Try again.”

“Ah . . . hmm . . .” was all he could come up with to say.

“I thought so.” Mr. Kenton stopped slapping the bat against his hand and moved forward, a rather intimidating sight, even given that the man was positively ancient. Coming to a stop right in front of Everett, Mr. Kenton sent Millie, who was a lovely shade of pink, a fond look, before his eyes hardened as he directed his attention back to Everett.

“I’m going to be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Mulberry. Miss Millie is an orphan, and as such, she has no father to look after her interests. Having said that, I’m telling you right now that you will view me as her fatherly figure at this particular moment in time. You will also explain to me exactly what your intentions are for this fine, fine young lady who deserves better than to be hurt by a scoundrel like you.”

Right there, as he was being threatened by an elderly gentle
man, one who still retained possession of a rather sturdy-looking bat, Everett knew, without a glimmer of a doubt, that he was truly and irrevocably in love with Miss Millie Longfellow.

Whether it was her warmth or natural zest for life, she had a way about her that drew people in, and . . . he could no longer deny his feelings for the woman.

Unable to stop the grin that was spreading over his face, he nodded to Mr. Kenton, but when he opened his mouth, he was interrupted by the sight of another man walking across the parlor.

To his relief, he discovered that Reverend Gilmore wasn’t clutching a bat.

“I didn’t realize the ball had ended early,” Reverend Gilmore said before he shook Everett’s hand, kissed Millie’s cheek, and then stared at Mr. Kenton, who’d taken to muttering under his breath. “Oh, dear, have I missed something yet again?”

Mr. Kenton let out a very uncharacteristic grunt. “I caught Mr. Mulberry kissing Miss Millie.”

With barely a blink of an eye, Reverend Gilmore smiled. “How delightful.”

“He has yet to declare his intentions.”

“Only because I haven’t been given the opportunity to do that yet,” Everett said, taking a moment to send Millie a smile when he heard her suck in a deep breath.

Mr. Kenton slapped the bat again, just once. “Well, get on with it, then, Mr. Mulberry. Reverend Gilmore and I aren’t getting any younger.”

Bringing Millie’s hand once again to his lips, Everett kissed it but then froze. Sending her a smile, he kept hold of her hand even as he released a bit of a sigh. “I need to speak with the children before I say another word.”

Millie, to his very great surprise, beamed at him, lifted their
clasped hands, and placed a very gentle kiss right on his bruised knuckle. “I think you’re exactly right, and . . . you remembered that it’s always about the children.”

“I need to make certain they’re in full agreement with what I’m about to do.”

“Of course you do.”

Everett laughed and hugged Millie to him, releasing her quickly when Mr. Kenton began slapping the bat again. Squeezing her hand, he was just about to ask where the children were when Lucetta rushed into the room with Abigail at her heels.

Lucetta came to a stop as she rubbed her side and gasped for air. “Something dreadful has happened.”

Millie dropped hold of his hand. “Where are the children?”

With eyes suddenly bright with tears, Lucetta lifted her chin. “Caroline gave them to Mr. Victor, but if we hurry, we might be able to catch them at the docks.”

19

M
illie’s mind went curiously blank, and she simply stared at Lucetta for what felt like forever until a thousand questions replaced the blankness.

“Caroline . . . gave the children to Mr. Victor?”

Dashing away tears that had fallen on her beautiful face, Lucetta nodded. “She did, and . . . we have to hurry, before Mr. Victor takes them out of Newport.”