Kathleen Y'Barbo (11 page)

R
ather than risk detection by remaining partygoers or, worse, by Father, Millie bypassed the main staircase to seek out the Peabody’s staff corridor. Slipping past two chambermaids and a valet, she found the back stairs and hurried up to the topmost floor.

Though the orchestra was packing up as she slipped past the entrance to the ballroom, a few couples were still milling about. After a cursory glance to be certain her fiancé had not returned to search for her, Millie headed to the rooftop staircase.

Opening the door allowed a draft of chill air to rush past. She gathered her coat around her and pressed forward, being careful not to allow the door to close completely behind her.

The sky was an inky black with pinpoints of stars thrown across it. Indeed, the first hours of 1889 had produced a sky lovely to behold.

In the distance, a clock chimed twice. She should be sleepy. And yet all she could think about was the possibility of finding the mysterious man who had claimed he could solve cyphers.

That she did not even know his name did not bother her. Given the secrecy surrounding Grandmother’s cypher, anonymity was preferable. She only hoped that, should she find him, the stranger would be amenable to continue being just that. A stranger.

Moving toward the spot where their flight had ended, Millie found the carpetbag and pieces of the flying machine still stowed in the shadows. While she nursed disappointment at not finding the aviator there, at least
she knew she had not missed him altogether. Eventually he would return for his things, and then she could ask his help.

The wind whipped at the edges of her coat and teased at her bare neck, sending Millie huddling close to the brick wall nearest the door. An assortment of wooden boxes and barrels provided an almost-comfortable place to wait, so she settled there and drew her coat in close.

Wishing she had remembered her gloves, Millie dug her fists into the folds of warm fabric and then leaned her head against the bricks and closed her eyes.

“You seem quite happy to be sitting alone beneath the stars.”

The unexpected voice of Sir William jolted Millie from her reverie and sent her scrambling to her feet. In the process one of the barrels overturned and a stack of crates fell.

“Oh! I have made a mess,” was the only response she could muster, such was the furious beating of her heart.

“No matter,” he said as he reached for her hand. “May I join you?”

“You may.” Millie indicated the crate next to hers and then returned to her seat. “What brings you up to the rooftop at this late hour?”

The Englishman leaned forward on his elbows and then slowly pivoted to face her. “I could ask the same question of you, Mildred Cope.”

What to say? For a moment she allowed herself to study him rather than respond.

He was certainly handsome, even more so in the golden glow of the lamplight. And yet his question seemed at once innocent as well as calculated. It was an odd combination that left her without an answer while she sorted her thoughts. He had come seeking her. Of this she quickly became certain.

“Actually, I am stargazing,” she finally said. “It is a lovely night, is it not?”

Both were the truth, though Millie left out the part where she admitted she preferred the view of the stars from a little higher up.

Sir William studied her a moment longer before turning his attention to the horizon. He shifted his position slightly, though he still spared her no glance.

“It is indeed a lovely night, though I fail to see what has captivated you well beyond the hour when decent ladies are abed.”

“Decent ladies?” Her chuckle died when she realized he was serious. “Surely you are not making the assumption that I am breaching propriety by enjoying the evening sky.”

“Technically this is the early morning sky, and yes, I am concerned that propriety has been breached.” He paused once again as he swung his attention to her. “Possibly for the second time tonight.”

“I will have an explanation for that, Sir William,” she said as her ire rose.

“Funny. I was about to demand the same of you.”

“My absence earlier?” she said as she guessed at his meaning. When he nodded, she continued. “I might ask the same of your absence, but I have already admitted to a bout of nerves over the planned announcement of our engagement. The ballroom felt quite closed in, which I fully recognize sounds ridiculous as I now say it, and yet it is very much the truth.”

“Go on.”

“Well, the truth is, as I told you earlier, I fled.” She paused to choose her words carefully, determined to speak the truth while offering as few details as possible. “I found a quiet place to think about it. And to pray.”

“Pray?” he echoed as if the idea was a strange one.

“Yes. Do not you—”

“Yes,” he hastened to say and then punctuated the statement with a lift of his shoulder. “Of course I pray.” He pressed back a lock of straw-colored hair and looked away. “So you have changed your mind?”

“No,” she said as she caught up to the switch of topic. “But I suppose it would be accurate to say I am still getting used to the idea.”

Her fingers itched to touch his sleeve, to offer something that might indicate to him that he should take no personal offense. Instead, she kept her hands inside her coat and her sentiments unspoken.

“As am I.”

She had not expected that. Apparently her expression gave that away, for he shrugged.

“It’s the truth. I am to wed, and I have always known this. After all, that is what is expected of the eldest. Marry a pretty girl, sire an heir, and keep home and hearth safe for the next generation.”

“You make it sound awful.” Her tone was light, teasing. “I had not imagined it that way.”

“No?” He reached to close the distance between them by resting his palm atop her sleeve. “I had imagined it would be that way. Until I met you.”

Warmth spread through her despite the chilly temperature. “Thank you,” she said, and meant it.

“You ruined my gift tonight,” he said abruptly.

“Your gift?”

He reached into his coat and then opened his palm to produce a tangle of pearls similar in size to the ones she was wearing on her wrist and in her ears.

“Yes,” he said as he returned the pearls to his pocket. “Now I suppose I will have to find something else to give you to celebrate our engagement.”

Millie waved away the statement as she thought of Father and what he would likely do with anything Sir William might offer. “Truly, it’s not necessary.”

“Oh, but it is,” he said slowly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “I am sure I will find something.”

“Really, there is no need to trouble yourself,” she insisted. “I have all the stars in the sky and no need for anything else that sparkles.”

The comment was meant for humor, but Sir William seemed to take it with a strong measure of seriousness. “Yes, I see. Well, that would be different, would it not?” was his odd and mumbled answer.

He settled back into place and seemed to be contemplating something. Whether it was her statement or the beauty of the night sky or something altogether different, Millie could not say.

“The man you were dancing with earlier.” His eyes met hers, his expression unreadable. “Who was he?”

Millie felt her fingers begin to tremble and hid them in the folds of her coat. “Which man?” she asked in a bid for more time to consider her response.

“I believe you know to whom I refer, but allowing that you might not, I will help you to recall him. This would be the fellow who danced you out of the ballroom while I was left standing with the beverage you requested.”

“I do not know.”

“You do not know?” Now his expression was easily read. Disbelief. “Am I to understand I returned from my errand to find you in the arms of a total stranger?”

“We were dancing,” she countered. “In a ballroom full of people, most of whom have known me since I was a child.”

“With a man who was not your fiancé.”

She let out a long breath. Years of Father’s accusations of bringing embarrassment to the family had taken their toll. Millie knew she could not marry a man who did the same.

“Officially you are not my fiancé, nor will you be if you continue to treat me in this manner.” She held up her hand to prevent his retort. “And perhaps you did not notice, but I danced with others as well. Shall we go down the list of names?”

He barely blinked. “No. I would only ask the name of the last fellow.”

“Which I have told you I do not know.” She paused but only to gather a breath. “Perhaps you need to find another fiancé, sir. I do not wish to impede you from wedding someone suitable.”

Millie made to rise, but Sir William tugged her back down beside him. “You do not know him?”

“I have said more than once I do not,” she snapped. “And I am not in the habit of lying, though you appear to be in the habit of disbelieving me.”

“All right, then. Unless you wish to add anything, the subject is considered closed.”

“I do not.”

Blood still pounded at Millie’s temples. His look of contrition, if that was what he now offered, held the promise of soothing her racing pulse. Still, the damage had been done.

She thought of the pearls in his pocket, of the title and ancestral home. And yet all of it paled in comparison to her desire to feel as if she were loved just as she was.

No embarrassment. No changes needed. Just as perfectly imperfect as she was right now...

“I have offended you.”

Millie’s chin lifted and her backbone straightened. “Yes, actually. You have.”

Sir William’s hand grasped hers. His grip was warm, strong, and yet gentle. “Truly,” he said softly, his voice husky with emotion, “I did not intend such an offense. Will you forgive me?”

She would, of course. A properly bred Memphis belle never held a grudge, not when the source of those ill feelings was the man who soon would be her husband. Still, Millie decided she would make him wait. Just a bit, anyway.

“I shall consider it.”

He rose abruptly and reached to lift her to her feet. “Excellent. It is time to go downstairs now. I assume you have taken rooms for the night.”

“Father has.” The truth, and yet her mind and heart were still back on their previous exchange of words.

Sir William nodded. “Then I will escort you down. You will catch your death if you remain up here much longer.”

“No,” she hastened to say. “I am fine, really. My coat is warm, and I was rather enjoying the solitude.”

He offered a quizzical expression and then shrugged. “I suppose it is good our home in England will offer much in the way of solitude. It is rather large. Sprawling, actually.”

Something about the way he bragged did not set well with her.

“If your father is fine with your stargazing, then I surely will not dispute his authority.” He leaned toward her and winked. “Yet, anyway.”

The audacity. A wink? When she was still upset over his treatment of her?

“Yes, well, all right,” she said stiffy.

“About your father,” he said in a rather offhand manner, “is it too late to pay him a visit? I have no idea what time he left the party.”

“And that would be because you were not there.” She paused. “I am sorry, that was awfully snappish.”

But as soon as the apology was out, Millie wished to retrieve it. What was it about her that sought to soothe even when her own feelings still felt trampled?

“No, I deserved that.” He fixed her with what she assumed was supposed to be a pitiful look. “I did not explain my own absence, did I?”
When she shook her head, he continued. “I was summoned away to answer a telephone call.”

“After midnight?”

One pale brow rose. “I admit the hour was late here but early in Britain. I have business contacts that tend to ignore the time difference when making the attempt to reach me.”

A plausible excuse, so Millie decided to accept it. Still, she could not resist adding, “Then perhaps it would not be too late to pay Father a visit.”

“I would like very much to offer an apology and a proper thank-you for hosting the evening.”

“I think that would be just perfect.”

“What room did you say he is in?”

Millie froze. “Do forgive me, but I have completely forgotten. I am afraid you will have to check with the desk clerk.”

He moved toward the door and rested his hand on the knob. “And you are certain you are fine up here?”

“Perfectly fine,” she said, though she knew the fact she was sending Sir William to Father’s room meant she could not wait around very long for the flying stranger to reappear. At some point Father would learn of her location and come to fetch her. Or, failing that, send someone in his place.

“All right,” he said. “As the hour is indeed late, I will not bother you any further. Once your father and I have come to an agreement, we will reschedule the announcement.”

She didn’t know what to say about that. Instead of responding with enthusiasm she didn’t feel, she bid him a good night and then watched him disappear inside, leaving only the slightest glow of gaslight as the door slid shut.

A moment of panic sent Millie racing for the door. As soon as the knob turned and the door opened, she exhaled in relief. To be locked out twice in one night would be most inconvenient, even though she did have the use of a flying machine.

She turned to look up at the stars and then slowly lifted her fingers toward the sky as if to touch them. The thought made her giggle. Imagine making that sort of attempt. To fly. Alone.

Millie’s giggle died in her throat as the rumble of footsteps echoed against the other side of the door. She stepped back to greet, she hoped, her flying companion.

Or perhaps it was Father. No, there had not been sufficient time for the Englishman to find a clerk, ascertain Father’s room number, and then pay Mr. Cope a visit.

Millie edged her way out of sight of whoever was heading toward the door and then waited to see if she would have to hide until he or she left. When the dark-haired stranger stepped out onto the roof, she let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding.