A Lady's Escape

by A. S. Fenichel

  Phoebe’s smile brightened. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Edgebrook. I’m certain you will be happy here and do great work.”

  “Thank you, my lady. It has already proved most interesting, and I am learning how little I know about people.”

  Phoebe cocked her head. “Indeed. Well, I’m sure you will store that knowledge for later use.”

  A large tea was served, but Millie couldn’t take another bite after the two teas she’d already had. She enjoyed listening to the other women tell stories of successful assignments and how they came to be Everton Ladies.

  Miss Wittman had lost both her parents, and with no family, she would have been forced out of her home by a cousin who inherited the estate. She did not wish to become a governess or lady’s maid, so she took a chance and came to see Lady Jane. She had been with Everton’s for two years and had seven successful assignments.

  Miss Steel specialized in dealing with troubled children. She had been at Everton’s for fourteen months and had helped three families. She had escaped an abusive home life, though she wouldn’t say much about her experience.

  Currently there were six Everton Ladies, three dowagers, and Mrs. Whimple employed by the Everton Domestic Society. All but one was present, and it made for quite a loud gathering.

  Millie found a quiet corner of the parlor and thought about what Beatrix had said regarding love. Perhaps it was smart on her part to maintain a level head when making the most important decision of her life. She was deep into her own thoughts when Lady Devonrose sat next to her on the divan.

  “You are not used to all of this,” Lady Devonrose said.

  “I am an only child, and my parents died many years ago. I’ve lived with a kindly but preoccupied uncle for years. These kinds of gatherings are uncomfortable for me, my lady.” Perspiration dripped down Millie’s back.

  “I would be honored if you would call me, Phoebe.”

  “Thank you. Please call me Millie or Millicent.”

  “Lady Jane told me that you are assigned to find the Duke of Middleton a bride.”

  “Yes. I spent the afternoon speaking to prospective brides, but they were different than I expected. I suppose I believe people will be as they seem on the surface. Foolish of me.” Millie found Phoebe easy to talk to.

  “My husband knows His Grace. Perhaps he might be of help.” Phoebe looked across the room toward where Lord Rupert Everton and Markus chatted quietly apart from the ladies.

  The idea of speaking about Middleton’s problems was too much like gossip. “I appreciate the offer, Phoebe. I truly do, but I think it best if His Grace’s secrets remain with those he has entrusted them to.”

  Phoebe smiled. “Of course. I understand completely.”

  Honoria Chervil sauntered over. “I’m so happy the two of you are getting to know each other. I was lucky enough to have tea with Miss Edgebrook the other day. If she did not already have her own chaperone, I would request to be her companion. Alas, Mrs. Whimple has all the fun. I suppose it’s just as well, since I’m going to spend a month with you and his lordship in the country. I cannot wait to see little Miss Elizabeth. I’m sure she’s grown since last I saw her.” On that note, she fluffed her lavender skirts and flounced over to chat with the men.

  “You have made quite an impression on my friend.” Phoebe laughed.

  “She is very sweet.” Millie was ready to retreat to her room and think about all she had learned about Wilhelmina and Beatrix.

  Nodding, Phoebe said, “She can be, but she can also be quite cunning. I value her opinion more than anyone else save my husband’s.”

  “It is nice to have friends you can trust with anything.”

  “It is indeed.” Phoebe stood up. “I think if you go around the pianoforte and out the side door, no one will notice. If anyone asks, I will tell them you were tired.”

  Looking at the escape route she described, Millie checked for obstacles. Everyone had gathered on the other side of the room. It could work. “Thank you, Phoebe.”

  “It is nothing. Let me cross to the group before you dash. It was a pleasure to meet you, Millie.”

  “The pleasure was mine.” Millie could see why everyone went wild when Phoebe visited. She really was extraordinary.

  With a nod, Phoebe walked way and joined the larger group.

  The buzz of conversation shifted, and Millie made her move around the pianoforte and out. The side door led her to a back hallway perfect for sneaking up to her room unnoticed.

  In her room, Millie took out her notes and added what she’d learned about Beatrix and Wilhelmina. Bea had said love was foolish because men would find a mistress and break a girl’s heart if given the chance. She had been young, but she couldn’t imagine her father taking a mistress. Her parents had always been so enamored with each other.

  Would Preston take a mistress after he was married? Did he already have a mistress? Her stomach clenched at the idea. It shouldn’t matter to her what he did outside of their project, and it certainly made no difference what he did once she found him a wife.

  “It’s none of your business, Millie.” She spoke aloud as if that would make her believe it. Perhaps Bea had the right attitude. If a marriage was not a love match, why not live separate lives? It was the way of things. Her parents were unique, and she shouldn’t hold society to such high standards.

  It was not that late, but she was tired and had eaten more than enough for the day. If she went to supper, she would be required to socialize, and she’d had enough of that as well.

  Once in bed, she stared at the ceiling. The idea of Preston with his mistress wouldn’t leave her. Perhaps he was with her now. They might be at the theater or in his house. Did she play chess?

  She shook herself and closed her eyes, commanding herself to stop thinking. Still, dreams of Preston with the most beautiful woman on earth clinging to his arm haunted her.

  Chapter 6

  It was a perfect day to picnic. Cool, sunny, and with a light breeze blowing down the Serpentine. Preston kept telling himself he was not excited to see Millicent. The fact that her dress was the same blue as the sky and brought out the color in her eyes was not significant. Forcing himself to take his gaze away from the strand of hair that brushed against her neck just under her ear, he turned toward the arriving carriage of his mother.

  He opened the door to Mother’s carriage and handed her down. “How are you?”

  Kissing his cheek, she smiled. “I’m well, Preston. How are things progressing with you and Miss Edgebrook?”

  “It has been an interesting process thus far.” He led her back toward where Millicent stood watching the crowd gather by the river.

  Millicent curtsied. “Hello, Your Grace. It is nice to see you again.”

  “Miss Edgebrook.” Mother smiled. “Have you discovered anyone of interest at this picnic?”

  Casting a gaze toward Preston, she waited for a sign of consent.

  He shrugged. “I find little point in hiding anything from Her Grace. She will ferret it out if we don’t tell her.”

  “Lady Helena Buckbrush is here. She is the daughter of the Duke of Flintmore. I would say she is quite pretty, and I understand she is accomplished as well.” Millicent tilted her head in the direction of a curvaceous blonde having an animated conversation with a young couple near a carriage.

  “I know Lady Helena a little. She is the niece of a good friend of mine. She would be an acceptable duchess, if you like her, Preston.” Mother’s expression remained soft and encouraging.

  Preston couldn’t deny Lady Helena’s beauty. The sun glinted off her hair in a way that made her look angelic, and there was no avoiding her ample figure.

  Millicent scolded, “If you are going to stare like that, Your Grace, you had better go over and speak to the lady. I assume you know the couple she’s with.”

 
He almost laughed at her tone and his own behavior. “Lenard Quick and his wife, Patrice.” He looked down into her eyes and almost told her he’d rather not meet Lady Helena Buckbrush. He would much prefer a day out with Millicent walking along the river.

  “Are you going?” Mother asked.

  His life tumbled into becoming a farce. Straightening his jacket, he strode to meet the third of his prospective brides. His legs weighed him down as if they’d been filled with sand. It was going to be a long day.

  “Hello, Lenard.” They shook hands.

  “Preston, how are you? I didn’t realize you would be here today.” The son of a gentleman, his grandfather had made his money in spice importing, so much money that his progeny could live as gentlemen.

  However, their recent movement into the ton meant that many did not accept them. It was nice to see that Lady Helena was not a snob. She conversed comfortably with the couple despite her father being an old-fashioned duke who probably wouldn’t approve.

  “I thought it might be nice to get outside for a picnic before the weather grows too cold.” It was a reasonable excuse for attending.

  “Indeed,” Lenard said. “You remember my wife, and this is Lady Helena Buckbrush.”

  Preston bowed to the ladies. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Quick. Lady Helena, a pleasure to meet you.”

  “How do you do, Your Grace?” Helena curtsied and blushed.

  He’d often questioned why women blushed when nothing had happened to cause such a reaction.

  The conversation stalled as their host arrived calling out for everyone to join in a lawn game.

  He offered his escort to Lady Helena, and they took up mallets for a game of pall-mall.

  “I should warn you, Your Grace, I am terrible at sport.” She struck too hard and went wide of the iron arch stuck in the grass.

  Chuckling, he noted a few feet over, Millicent made a perfect strike to advance her position. “It is of little consequence, my lady. How are you finding the season?” He had to backtrack the ball they shared and hoped the close proximity to the iron would afford his partner an easy shot.

  Thankfully, she tapped it through. “It has been a fine distraction.”

  “Are you in need of distraction.”

  “Often.” Her honesty was surprising.

  “What do you do when not distracted?” He took a firm shot toward the next goal.

  Helena told him of her painting and music, and by the time they finished the round, he knew more than enough about the very accomplished young lady.

  The food was set out as they finished. “Would you consider joining my mother and I for the meal, Lady Helena, or are you committed elsewhere?’

  “I would be delighted, Your Grace. Who is that with the dowager?”

  Millicent and Mrs. Whimple took seats on the blanket set out for the meal. His mother’s footman brought a chair over for her to sit on.

  “She is a family friend. Miss Millicent Edgebrook, and the other lady is her companion, Mrs. Whimple.”

  “Isn’t she the mad scientist’s ward? I heard he blew the butler clear across the room with one of his experiments.” Helena’s lips curled in an ugly smirk.

  “Gossip is often exaggerated. Francis Edgebrook is also a good friend of my family.” Edgebrook should be ashamed of the damage he’d done to poor Millie’s reputation. Yet, she clearly loved her uncle and never said a cross word about him.

  Shrugging, she walked to the blanket and sat. Despite her initial reaction, Helena was kind and polite to Millicent and even Mrs. Whimple. She made no mention of the mad scientist and they enjoyed a pleasant lunch.

  “Millie? I thought that was you.” The overly tall man spoke with a familiarity that irritated Preston.

  “Mr. Merrifield, I’m surprised to see you here.” Millicent stood. She brushed out her skirts, patted her hair and swallowed several times.

  He pointed at their host. “Walker is a school chum of mine. I hope you are well; you look a bit pale.”

  Preston had risen when Millicent stood. She did look ready to drop, but he could think of no way to extricate her from the situation. He was not her champion, just her assignment.

  Patting her cheek, she smiled. “Not at all, I think I just stood too quickly. I see you are well.”

  “Of course. Will you introduce your friends?” His brown hair caught the breeze and stood up comically.

  Millie stood wide-eyed and speechless for an uncomfortable moment. “Why…yes. Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Middleton; her son, the Duke of Middleton; and Lady Helena Buckbrush, may I present Mr. Gordon Merrifield.”

  It would have been customary to explain how she knew Merrifield, but Millicent left that information out. However, Preston remembered the scandal of her first season had something to do with this man. He just couldn’t remember exactly what the gossip had been. He shook Merrifield’s hand. “Merrifield, I believe your estate is quite close to Brookhaven, my country home in Derbyshire.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. We have been neighbors for many years, though this is the first time I’ve had the privilege of making your acquaintance.” Merrifield glanced at Millie.

  Preston’s father had not cared for the senior Merrifield but had never said why. “It seems that oversight has now been altered thanks to Miss Edgebrook. I’m certain we shall meet again, Mr. Merrifield.”

  “I would be honored, Your Grace.” Merrifield excused himself to go and speak with Walker Southwick, their host.

  Helena took over most of the conversation, and Millicent grew quiet. She picked at her cake, eventually putting it back in the basket. When she excused herself, he could think of no way to follow her for a walk. Mrs. Whimple followed behind, and the two avoided stepping on a patch of red flowers before disappearing around a bush. He loved that even when upset she didn’t stomp the blooms.

  Helena was entertaining and attractive. He found little flaw in her other than her initial reaction to Millicent. However, once she knew they were friends, she embraced the acquaintance and created an environment of ease. He walked her to her carriage as the party broke up. “Thank you for spending time with me, Lady Helena. I enjoyed the afternoon.”

  “It was my pleasure, Your Grace. I hope we will meet again.”

  He kissed her hand. “I’m certain we will.”

  Mother left as well, and Preston went in search of Millicent. She hadn’t gone far. Just out of sight of the party, she sat on a bench, tossing crumbs to half a dozen ducks.

  Mrs. Whimple stood and walked a short distance away.

  “I was concerned you had run away.” Preston sat next to her.

  “Yes, I thought of it.” Tossing the last of her bread to the hungry birds, she groaned and brushed her hands off on her skirt.

  “I know we have not been friends long, but if you would care to talk about it, I would be happy to listen.” A sudden urge to punch Gordon Merrifield in the nose came over Preston, and he gripped the edge of the bench until it passed.

  Staring at the river, she sighed. “What do you think of Lady Helena?”

  Clearly, speaking to him of her past was not what she wanted. His disappointment sent an ache in his gut. “She is pleasant and beautiful.”

  “Yes, I thought so too. Shall I add her to our list?” She was monotone, as if all the life had been pulled out of her.

  The notion that she must still love the man, if he could have such a damning effect on her so many years later, gnawed at Preston. All the more reason to beat Merrifield to a pulp. “I think that would be appropriate. She fills all the requirements, and Mother seemed to like her.”

  She stood, and so he did too. “Would you mind if we continued this tomorrow, Your Grace. I’m quite tired and would like to return to Everton House.”

  Railing at her for calling him Your Grace wouldn’t make her feel better. He longed to pull her
into his arms and tell her Merrifield was a fool and then demand she tell him everything that had happened. However, that was not an option. “Of course. I will take you.”

  She wouldn’t make eye contact with him. “Could you just call us a hack? And could you not ask me any questions right now?”

  It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he didn’t have the heart to fight her. “If that is what you wish, Millicent.”

  “Please.”

  She walked next to him to the lane, with Mrs. Whimple following behind.

  It would take no time to put her in a hack, but he longed for more of her company. “I had thought you would return to my home and we would discuss the ladies over our chess match.”

  Her shoulders lifted and fell. All the fire had gone out of her voice. “I can come by tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow is Friday, and I take tea at my mother’s home.” What he was doing was shameful, but he didn’t want her to go to her room in Everton House and feel sorry for herself as she’d been since Merrifield came on the scene. If he could manage more time with her, she might open up. He might learn details about this woman who had occupied his mind since the moment he met her.

  “Saturday then.” Keeping her eyes downcast, she kept him at a distance.

  “I am otherwise engaged on Saturday. I would hate for all of this to wait until Monday. It is so much better to discuss things while they are fresh.” A hack passed by, but Preston made no move to flag him down.

  Another long exhale pushed out of her sweet lips. “I suppose we had better go to your house then and discuss Lady Helena and what I’ve learned about the other two ladies.”

  His carriage pulled up, and he handed both ladies in. Any guilt he might have experienced for manipulating her was overshadowed by his desire to keep her close and comfort her. But once he was seated across from her in the carriage, he could think of nothing to ease her mind. He turned to the other lady in the carriage. “Mrs. Whimple, I wonder if you might pretend not to hear what I’m about to say?”