Millicent’s throat bobbed, and his lips longed for her pulse. She took his hand. “I would be delighted.”
The only thing better than imagining Millicent in his arms was having her in them. “Thank you for trying to rescue me.”
Her blush was warm and without guile. “It nearly caused a disaster. I cannot believe you nearly married that woman. She is no lady.”
“She did a good impression of one. I believed her to be sincere. Clearly, I was mistaken, as is Bertram Dalton. Too bad, too, he’s a good sort. Not terribly bright, but a gentleman.” Preston whirled her around the dance floor, keeping time and enjoying her hand in his, and his hand snug against her back.
“I don’t suppose there is any way to warn him.” Her nose wrinkled.
“You can’t take care of everyone, Everton Lady. Dalton will have to fend for himself. You are mine.”
Her eyes widened, and the pink returned to her cheeks. “You mean I am your Everton Lady for the time being.”
He would let her believe what she liked for now. “As you say.”
Allowing her arms to relax, she eased just an inch closer to him. She likely didn’t even know she had done so. “I don’t suppose, with all the drama of Miss Finch, you managed to find anyone interesting to add to our list?”
Staring until she met his gaze, he said, “Do you think we could not talk about finding me a wife just now? I would like to enjoy the dance.”
She missed a step, but he caught her, and they continued as before. “If you like.”
The rest of the waltz was one of those perfect moments that rarely occur. Preston could count on one hand the moments in his lifetime when he’d been so free and happy. She looked up at him, her eyes as clear blue as the waters in the south of France. Her curves fit against him, and her tiny form delighted his senses. How could she think he would want anyone else? It was going to take all of his wits to make her see the truth. For now, he would bide his time and be the man she needed. If he was lucky, she was having a perfect moment as well.
* * * *
Millicent ran up to her room as soon as they arrived at Everton House. She wanted peace and quiet where she could think, but her trunks stood packed in the middle of the room, a reminder that she would be spending a fortnight with Preston. She had been to dozens of balls and danced with hundreds of gentlemen, and never had anything been as perfect as dancing with Preston. He moved beautifully, and together, they floated to the music. Finishing school had taught her how to dance, but nothing compared to being held in Preston’s arms. She should run right down to Lady Jane’s office and ask to be replaced from the Middleton account. It would look bad for her, but it was the right thing to do.
Even as she thought it, she knew she wouldn’t do it. Unable to bear the idea of Ann or one of the other ladies taking over the job, she would see it through and make sure Preston was happy with his choice of wife. Resolved to make good on her promises, Millie got ready for bed. She stared at the ceiling for long hours until the sun peeked through her window.
The day went by in a fog of exhaustion. However, at three o’clock she went to see her uncle for tea. He looked almost respectable seated in the parlor waiting for her.
“Uncle Francis.” She kissed his cheek. “You remembered I was coming a day early.”
Smiling happily, he said, “I did, and I see you made good use of the funds I arranged for you. A new dress, and you look lovely.”
“Thank you.” Even if her uncle hadn’t noticed her new wardrobe, the look on Preston’s face when he spotted her in the blue gown would have been worth the expense. “I spent more than I have in years, but it was time for something new. I’m having several more dresses, gowns and shoes delivered to Brookhaven Manor. I’m feeling quite spoiled.”
His smile wavered. “You should have been spoiled your whole life.”
Millie sat next to him on the divan and poured two cups of tea. “Uncle Francis, you gave me a safe place to live, and I felt loved my entire life. I could not have asked for a more thorough education. What more can a girl ask for?”
Laughing with her, he patted her hand. “You always make me happy, Millie, my girl. I may not have been a proper parent for a young lady, but you should know you bring nothing but joy into my life. I believe you will do great things.”
“Thank you, Uncle Francis. I’m excited to see what the future will bring.” She sipped her tea. “I met Jacques Laurent. He is a good friend of the Duke of Middleton’s. Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation. His father was a genius about knowing what inventions to put his money behind. The son sent me a letter a few months back asking about my new design for a steam-propelled engine. He is hoping for more efficiency in mining, I think.”
Millie had seen the blueprints and knew her uncle was onto something, but she was impressed anyone else understood. “Did you write back to him?”
“No. I don’t think the plans are quite right yet.”
Guessing he didn’t want to put himself in the position to be hailed a fool once again, Millie said, “Write to him. He seems a good man, and I think he is sincere in his desire to help both you and his own business. He must be fair, or the duke would not be friends with him.”
Francis ate a piece of cake. He always had a sweet tooth. “If you think it’s a good idea, I’ll pen him a note today, my girl.”
“Good. You never know, perhaps you might find him a good partner for more of your ideas.”
Long missing excitement sparked in his eyes. “Now that would be something.”
Chapter 10
London faded out of sight as they took the high road out of town. It would take five days to reach Derbyshire and Brookhaven Manor. Between the kiss and the dance, Millie didn’t know what was happening, but she was determined to keep her head. It might have been easier if she were not trapped in a carriage with Preston.
Always the gentleman, Preston rode backward, allowing Millie and Mrs. Whimple to face forward. The roads were dry, and therefore the travel was fast and comfortable.
Mrs. Whimple snored lightly beside her.
Preston watched her for a long moment. “Is it my imagination or does Mrs. Whimple sleep more often than is common?”
“We did keep her out quite late only two nights ago, and then she had to accompany me to see my uncle yesterday. Our lives are demanding.” A pang of guilt throbbed in Millie’s head. She should be kinder to poor Doris and settle down for an easier life. She would find a way to give her friend and companion an early retirement.
Nodding, Preston smiled. It was devastating, and Millie had to look away. He could never know the effect he had on her. “Perhaps she just pretends to sleep?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Then her chaperone skills are not what they ought be.” He was joking. Millie had learned Preston thought many of society’s rules were silly at best.
She smiled, but her heart squeezed knowing after a short time she would not hear that tone from Preston ever again. He would marry, and she would go on with her life. “If the weather remains fine, we might arrive early.”
“Perhaps. I have already timed our arrival to be a day earlier than the other guests. I thought you might like to see my home before it is crowded with people.” His gaze never left her face.
Millie wasn’t sure what she was meant to say. He wanted something from her, but that was not possible. “It is always good to get the lay of the land before battle.”
The frown was unexpected and changed him from the open man she’d come to know to a brooding duke. “I have made this ride many times. There are some beautiful sights along the way, as well as good food and lodging. Today, we will have a picnic Cook packed for us, and try to make good time to the first inn.”
“It is important for an Everton Lady to be efficient.”
“Is that one of your Ever
ton Domestic Society rules?” His voice filled with disdain.
Taken aback, she wasn’t sure what to say. “Not as such. It’s an observation.”
“But there are rules?” He narrowed his eyes.
“The Everton Companion lists many ideals that we are to follow.” Glancing at her satchel on the floor between them, she thought it might be a good use of the time in the carriage to brush up on those guidelines.
He followed her gaze. “You have it with you, this Companion?”
“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
Her instincts told her to say no, but she couldn’t think of a good reason not to show him. Perhaps it would pass the time. Millie reached into her bag and handed the booklet over. The soft cream cover looked pale against his rich skin.
Opening to the first page, he read aloud. “All assignments are to be satisfactorily completed before an Everton Lady is permitted to leave her post. According to this, you must stay with me until I am married or engaged.”
“I don’t know if that is an accurate interpretation of the rule.” Millie’s chest tightened at the inevitable moment when she would have to leave Preston forever.
He raised an eyebrow and continued reading. “Part of our commitment at the Everton Domestic Society is to fulfill the goals that have been set at the beginning of an assignment. This is not always possible. Some clients resist our efforts. An Everton Lady must rise above such setbacks and find other ways to gentle the client into achieving the goal. Should the client demand the lady leave the premises, and no agreement can be reached, she shall return to Everton House and a new assignment will be forthcoming. In some cases, a replacement Everton Lady might be sent to complete the goals.
“Do not be disheartened. In most cases when a lady must be replaced, it is the fault of administration for presenting the assignment to a lady better suited elsewhere. The Everton Domestic Society has complete faith in you and believes you will succeed in your chosen field.”
She couldn’t tell if he was confused or contemptuous as he stared at the page long after he’d finished reading the first rule of an Everton Lady. “You can give that back to me now, if you’re finished.”
“If I don’t choose a wife, you will be replaced by another Everton Lady.” There was a faraway quality in his voice, and he looked up wide-eyed.
“Of course. Why should that surprise you?” She swallowed down the panicked notion of failing.
The carriage hit a bump, and she lost her balance, pitching forward.
Preston caught her arm and eased her back into the seat while steadying Mrs. Whimple with his other hand.
Doris woke up with a start. “Good Lord, what happened?”
“Just a bump in the road, madam. All is well.” Preston smiled.
Doris looked at the Everton Companion on the floor as Preston retrieved it. “Are you reading that, Your Grace?”
With a nod, he said, “Miss Edgebrook and I were just discussing the very first rule. I was shocked by the fact that if one Everton Lady fails, another takes her place.”
Millie said, “If you hire a man to work your fields and he hurts his back and cannot finish, do you not replace him with someone who can do the job?”
“You make a fine point. I suppose I just never thought of someone else being my Everton Lady.” His smile was slow and meant only for her.
Drawing in a quick breath, she shook off what must have been her imagination. When she thought she could speak without sounding out of breath, she said, “Hopefully that won’t be necessary, and you’ll be engaged before the end of the season.”
Turning his attention back to the companion, he read, “In live-in situations, an Everton Lady will be assigned a ‘dowager’ to accompany them and remain close at all times. This satisfies the need for propriety.”
Doris grinned. “In this case, I’m no dowager. Miss Edgebrook and I have been together for many years. I was her nanny when she was small, and Mr. Edgebrook was kind enough to keep me on when she was grown. Good thing too, since she dislikes going to balls and teas and such. I have been Miss Edgebrook’s companion since she came out into society nine years ago.”
Millie would be lost without her, and it was not likely Doris would find as good a post considering Uncle Francis’s reputation. “An Everton dowager is not a title so much as a designation. While some are actually titled ladies, others are just companions like Mrs. Whimple.”
The way his eyes lit up when he smiled was mesmerizing. “Then Mrs. Whimple is indeed a dowager.”
The pronouncement forced a blush and a grin on Doris’s face.
Preston turned back to the book. “An Everton dowager’s purpose is to keep things within society’s proprieties. She will give counsel when asked and support when needed, but she is NOT an Everton Lady. She is never to take over those duties, unless there are special circumstances that leave no other alternative. A dowager is meant to fade into the background and, in that place, keep the Everton Lady safe from harm.
“There will always be those who will seek to discredit the agency and its ladies. The dowager must be a soldier against that fate.”
Doris’s chest puffed up, and she looked at Preston as if she dared him to put her to the test as a soldier. Millie almost laughed.
“You have quite an important job, Mrs. Whimple.” Preston closed the book and watched Doris.
“Indeed. I take it quite seriously. When Lady Jane said she wanted both Millie and me, I was staggered but proud. I’ll not let anything happen to my girl, nor allow the integrity of the Everton Domestic Society to be tarnished. Not on my watch.”
The kindness he showed was almost too much to take. “I have no doubt you shall prevail, madam.”
Millie couldn’t blame Doris for preening a bit. “Won’t you read another, Your Grace.”
Looking from Doris to Millie, he asked, “Shall I, Miss Edgebrook?”
“There are no rules against it.” Millie liked the sound of his voice. The moments when he found amusement in the writing or disagreed with a concept bought different tones out.
“Every Everton Lady has been chosen for a particular assignment because she is the best person suited to complete the goals. This is a key point, as it should give the lady confidence in her ability to succeed. If Everton’s has put their faith in you, then you are meant to complete your objective with alacrity. Do not be afraid to follow your own instincts and find new ways of solving old problems. It is the ingenuity of our ladies that makes the Everton Domestic Society a unique institution.” Preston closed the book and stared at Millie for a long time. “Why you?”
She should have made him stop reading, made up a story about never showing the Companion to clients. How could she have forgotten the text behind the third Everton rule of conduct? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. Why did Lady Jane pick you for this particular job? What talent do you have that makes you the best choice as my matchmaker?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back, watchful. The Companion, clutched in his hand, rested along his coat sleeve.
Doris tried to hide her chuckle behind her hand with a cough.
The view had changed to countryside. Late October brought with it a slight chill, but the weather was still fine. Millie considered if jumping to the road was out of the question. “I have found husbands for a few of my friends.”
“Most of them, I’d say.”
“Mrs. Whimple,” Millie scolded. “That will do.”
Doris pulled a face but stayed silent.
Taking in the exchange, Preston looked from one to the other. He didn’t say anything before handing the Everton Companion back to Millie. “But you have not made a match for yourself. Interesting.”
“I have other goals, and each of the men I’ve met were better suited to one of my friends.” She hoped she sounded more
confident than the quivering doubt lodged in her chest would indicate. All those men would have bored her to tears or made her unhappy when they tried to change her to fit the idea they had about a wife.
Preston said, “I’m baffled that none of them insisted on you. I cannot imagine the women you introduced them to were more interesting, smarter, or lovelier to look at.”
Her pulse was near to thumping out of her chest. Swallowing down the argument about all the things wrong with those men, she forced a polite smile. “You are too kind.”
“No. I am honest, Everton Lady.” He gifted her a warm smile before leaning his head back and closing those stunning eyes.
Mrs. Whimple pulled out her knitting and worked on it.
It was hard to keep alert with nothing to do and no one to talk to. They slowed through a town, and Millie watched a young couple walk down the street. A cart of hay lost a wheel in the road, and they were stuck waiting for twenty minutes. The young man’s hand grazed the girl’s pinky finger, and she blushed. They stopped and slipped into a narrow pass-through between the baker’s shop and the general store. He kissed her cheek then ran his hand down the same spot. They were so sweet and so much in love, Millie couldn’t look away even as watching them broke her heart.
Suddenly, her choice to remain unwed knotted deep inside her. Not one of the men she’d introduced to her friends had made her heart pound the way it did when Preston looked at her. She reminded herself that he was not for her, and even if she were younger and a typical debutant, she would never suit a duke. Her job was to find him a wife that would make a fine Duchess of Middleton.
By the time the hay cart was put to rights and they were on their way again, she wiped a tear off her cheek.
Her heart jumped when Preston leaned forward. His stare intent, he whispered, “Why didn’t you forget that devil, Merrifield, and find someone to marry? Why would you marry off all your friends instead?”
In the closeness of the carriage, with him whispering and Doris distracted by the scene outside, it was more intimate than she could bear. “It was not done with a purpose in mind.”
A Lady's Escape Page 12
