Letter From a Rake: Destiny Romance

by Sasha Cottman

‘Thank you. It is hard to appreciate their beauty when someone is continually prattling on in your ear. Besides, it’s a centaur, not a “man-horse”,’ she sniffed, pointing to a panel depicting a centaur and a Lapith in battle. Millie was very particular about the correct terminology when discussing matters of history and mythology.

  Noting that the centaur was missing one of its arms, Millie wrinkled up her nose in disappointment. While Lord Elgin had claimed he wanted to preserve the marbles, it was common knowledge that in removing them from their original location, many pieces had sustained damage. Even if some day the British government gave the marbles back to their original owners, she doubted they would survive the long sea voyage again. She pointed to a seated statute of a man that was missing its head. ‘I thought marble was supposed to be white, like the Taj Mahal, but some of these are almost black.’

  ‘It is dirt, Miss Ashton. You must remember the marbles were on the side of a Greek temple on top of a windswept mountain for over two thousand years,’ a deep male voice murmured into her ear. She turned and was surprised to see Alex standing next to her. A smile found its way to her lips.

  ‘Good morning, Lord Brooke,’ she replied.

  Alex gave her a bow. ‘Good morning.’ After shaking hands with Mr Ashton, Alex motioned for a young man to step forward.

  ‘This is my brother, Lord Stephen Radley,’ he said.

  Millie looked at the young man and noted the strong resemblance to Alex. Lord Stephen gave a bow and then looked to his brother. Alex cleared his throat.

  ‘As I was saying, the marbles date back to around four hundred BC, so one would expect them to have weathered somewhat over that time. But I am of the understanding some items were damaged during their journey here, especially the ones that went down with the brig Mentor; they spent nearly two years at the bottom of the sea.’

  Millie’s eyes widened with delight.

  ‘I had no idea you were a man of the classics, Lord Brooke,’ Mr Ashton replied. ‘It is refreshing to meet a young man of your status who takes an interest in the ancient world.’

  Alex gave a nod of his head. ‘I feel it is important to obtain such knowledge and pass it on to young, impressionable minds.’ He glanced in his brother’s direction, as Lord Stephen let out a snort.

  Lord Stephen scrambled around in his coat pocket, took out a handkerchief, and made a great effort to convince everyone present that he had a cold. Alex scowled at him before continuing. ‘I see you do not have the services of a guide. I would be most honoured if you would allow me to accompany you around the room and enlighten you further on the history of the items on display.’

  Millie looked to her father, who had an odd, almost bemused look on his face. ‘Of course, Lord Brooke; never let it be said that I stood in the way of my daughter’s enlightenment. And your brother’s education is of paramount importance.’

  Millie looked at Alex and as she beheld his magnetic eyes, she sensed a flash of heat coursing down her body.

  ‘May I?’ Alex said as he offered Millie his arm. She stared at it for a moment as she caught her breath, then looked to her father, who nodded his approval. As she took his arm, the heat in her body continued to rise. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn she was back in steamy Calcutta.

  They continued around the room, but with the museum now officially open, the number of visitors steadily rose and obtaining a clear view of the marbles became difficult. Alex sensed an opportunity. ‘It’s a touch crowded in here. If I may suggest, perhaps Lord Stephen could accompany Mr Ashton around the left side of the room. He should remember most things I have taught him. At the same time, I shall walk with Miss Ashton towards the right. We can meet up in the middle at the East Pediment statutes.’

  Millie looked at her father.

  Please, Papa. Please say yes.

  He smiled and nodded. ‘Of course, that makes perfect sense.’

  She swallowed deeply, relieved to know her message had got through.

  ‘Excellent,’ Alex replied.

  Making their way through the crowd, Millie noticed several other patrons looking at Alex and then at her. One society matron whispered to her companion as they passed by. ‘Who is that girl? I have never seen Lord Brooke walking with a young lady before. The Marquess seems rather pleased with himself.’

  Millie continued to stare over her shoulder at the women as they walked away.

  ‘Here we are; something we can actually see,’ Alex said, coming to a halt in front of a large marble head of a horse. Millie swung her head back around towards Alex, but not quickly enough to see that he had stopped. She took one step past him, before he pulled her back close to him.

  He placed a large, warm hand on her waist where it lingered for eternity. She looked up at his face and received another of his dashing smiles.

  ‘Oh,’ Millie sighed, unable to form a more eloquent response.

  Alex chuckled. ‘One day I will learn not to stop suddenly when I am with you. But I think this time I may not be the one at fault. Why were you staring at those women?’

  Millie’s cheeks flushed a deep red, while she silently prayed he had not heard them. ‘I . . . I thought I had met them at a gathering earlier in the week, but I must have been mistaken,’ she lied.

  He raised one eyebrow for a moment, before nodding his head. ‘Yes, of course’.

  ‘The Selene Horse,’ she said, looking past Alex. ‘The detail on its facial features is quite magnificent. Papa and I stopped and looked at it when we first arrived. I think it might be my favourite piece of the entire collection.’

  He reached out and rubbed his fingers under the horse’s jaw.

  ‘Not very responsive, this one; I think we have been sold a marble nag.’

  Millie smiled and shook her head. ‘Let us see how responsive you are when you are two thousand years old and have had your head chopped off.’

  They grinned silently at each other.

  Millie looked back to the horse. ‘Though I still think it is sad that this is the final home of such a wonderful piece of antiquity.’

  ‘You don’t agree that the marbles should be in England?’ Alex replied.

  She clenched her reticule tightly in her hands and bravely muttered, ‘No.’

  Alex nodded. ‘Good for you, Millie; I admire anyone who holds their own opinion on the matter. For myself, I think hacking the marbles off the walls in Athens was cultural vandalism of the lowest kind,’ he said. ‘And that Elgin nearly bankrupted his estate to do it shows a callous disregard for the wellbeing of his tenants and heirs.’

  Millie twisted her reticule into a tight knot. Finally, someone else in London agreed with her opinion on the relocation of the marbles. Her mouth opened in an O of surprise.

  ‘You thought someone like me would naturally condone Elgin’s actions? Rest assured, I spoke long and hard against keeping them in England. The Ottoman Empire has ruled Greece for hundreds of years and the Turks have never felt the need to destroy the ancient temples, so I don’t see why an English earl should.’

  Everything he said made perfect sense to her. To find that they agreed on such a controversial topic was a surprise. He took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. When their gazes met, Millie was left in no doubt as to the peril that she now faced. She was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Alex Radley and there was nothing she could do to save her heart.

  When they rejoined her father and Lord Stephen, Alex regaled them with his impressive knowledge of the myths and gods of ancient Greece. As he spoke, other patrons and guides began to mill around him and finally Millie found herself part of a large, enthralled crowd. Watching the Marquess of Brooke holding court in the middle of the museum, she smiled proudly at him. He truly was Alexander the Great.

  She barely remembered parting with Alex and his brother on the steps of Montagu House, and sat quietly in the carriage for the short ride home. Her mind’s eye was filled with the image of a smiling Alex, while the words of the society
matrons repeated themselves over and over in her head.

  The Marquess seems rather pleased with himself.

  As her father helped her down from the carriage, he gave her a knowing smile and kissed her on the forehead. She was in love with Alex; of course her father could sense it.

  Chapter 10

  On the evening of the Earl and Countess of Shale’s Easter ball, Millie sat before her dressing table mirror and stared at her own reflection. She looked just as she had for the past few months, but something inside her had changed.

  She smiled, remembering how Alex had tried to make good on his promise to give her a dance lesson. That hour, spent laughing with him as he invented new and outrageous fables to paint onto the ballroom ceiling had done little to improve her dancing skills.

  I shall just have to ensure I am in the ladies’ withdrawing room when they play the waltz, she consoled herself. It would not do to make a poor impression at the Easter ball.

  Millie waited until her maid had finished with her hair before standing and walking over to examine herself in the cheval mirror, which a footman had placed in the middle of her bedroom.

  She stood with her hands held in a ladylike manner in front of her and then, with a coy smile on her face, she practised her curtsy. A young lady should always behave as if she were a little shy and unsure, her mother had instructed her. It gave the appearance of not being too forward.

  ‘Or of having any intelligence,’ Millie whispered into the mirror.

  She turned and faced side-on to the mirror and her heart sank. Her hair was perfect, her pale-silver gown made by one of the best modistes in London, but none of it could hide the curves that set her apart from the other young ladies.

  She screwed up her nose in disappointment.

  ‘If I may suggest, a spot of walking each day would soon have those pounds falling off you, Miss Millie,’ Grace said, as she knelt down to straighten the hem of Millie’s gown.

  ‘You are right, Grace. Later this week you and I shall start going for walks around the nearby streets and some of the shops,’ Millie replied.

  She saw the look of disappointment on Grace’s face. Her maid had clearly not counted on being dragged around London as her mistress tried to rid herself of her extra padding. ‘That will teach you for coming up with such good ideas,’ Millie teased. ‘Besides, since Mama slipped on the ice in the rear court earlier today and is under doctor’s orders to rest her ankle for a whole week, she will not be able to come walking or shopping with me. But you may choose the footman who accompanies us if you like. I am sure a suitable one will come quickly to mind.’

  Grace smiled secretly to herself and the deal was sealed.

  Just after nine o’clock, Charles helped Millie down from the family carriage outside the Earl of Shale’s townhouse in Duke Street. The path out the front of the house had been cleared of snow, allowing the guests to alight from their conveyances without dampening their footwear.

  The dozen or so household staff who formed an honour guard up the front steps were decked out in black livery with gold helmets giving them the appearance of Roman Centurions. The four huge fire cages, which burned fiercely either side of the front door, helped to set the scene for Lord and Lady Shale’s Ides of March-themed party. The guests, of course, were expected to overlook the fact that the party was too late for Caesar and just a touch too early for the Last Supper.

  At the top of the stairs they were handed a cup of hot honey mead. Standing sipping the warm liquor as the other guests milled around them, Charles and Millie exchanged a look of delight. The smoke from the fires whirled around in the night wind and the enticing scent of burning birch tree reached her nose. Inside her slippers, she wriggled her toes with excitement.

  This was the kind of party and glamour she had been promised for so long. With any luck, she would have lots of wonderful stories to tell her bedridden mother in the morning. ‘I can’t believe this is the first party you and I have ever been to on our own. I know it is wrong of me, but I am glad Papa cried off to stay at home with Mama. Look at how amazing the outside decorations are; I do hope the inside is just as good,’ she exclaimed.

  Charles gave her a nod of his head. ‘They are splendid, but I do think the centurions are rather relieved not to be wearing togas or sandals.’ She looked at the nearest centurion and saw that his teeth were chattering. She and Charles exchanged a pained look. ‘Poor chap; I do hope they have a large pot of coffee waiting downstairs for him,’ Charles said.

  Once inside, they were greeted by their host, who was dressed as Caesar, with the obligatory knife marks cut into the toga he wore over his evening clothes. He motioned them towards the ballroom, where they found Lady Shale splendidly reposed on a couch situated on a dais at the far end of the room.

  She was playing the role of a heavily pregnant Cleopatra to the hilt. Every so often she would pull out a wooden toy snake and pretend to let it bite her. Her court of guests would let out a gasp of horror and beg her not to do it, and then roar with laughter at the end of her overly dramatic death scene.

  ‘I wonder how many times she is going to die tonight?’ a familiar voice spoke. They turned to see Alex, resplendent in formal black evening dress. After he and Charles had shaken hands, Alex took hold of Millie’s hand and planted a kiss on her glove. He bowed and Millie felt her face begin to burn red as she returned his greeting with a curtsy.

  As she rose, and their eyes met, she tried to give him her well-rehearsed coy smile, but found herself laughing when she saw him raise one eyebrow. The afternoon spent laughing as they danced around the Strathmore ballroom had formed a bond they now found hard to disguise.

  ‘Well done, Miss Ashton, you shall make an excellent London debut this season,’ Alex said, with a wicked glint in his eye. ‘You shall surely impress all the pompous arses.’

  Millie’s eyes grew wide with horror and she glared at Charles. ‘You didn’t?’

  Charles sighed, clearly disgusted with himself.

  ‘He did. I beat him yet again this morning when we raced our steeds in Hyde Park. Every time we race, the loser has to confess to something embarrassing that they have done; your little swearing game was today’s revelation,’ Alex replied.

  To alleviate the boredom on the long sea voyage, the Ashton siblings had devised the swearing game. This involved attempting to drop profanities into polite conversation without getting caught. The more profane the word the higher the point score. She imagined how embarrassed her brother would have been to admit to such a childish game.

  ‘Bloody brilliant, if you ask me,’ Alex said.

  Charles turned to his sister. ‘There is to be no point-scoring tonight, Millie; this is our first time out without Mama and Papa and you don’t want people to take note of your untamed tongue. If Mama finds out you have been engaging in discussions of bloody battles, you will not be allowed out of the house for a fortnight. Brooke, I would ask that you don’t encourage my sister to play a childish game devised out of sheer boredom. I am beginning to regret ever having told you.’

  Millie sighed, knowing his words were no idle threat. Violet Ashton had of late started clamping down on her daughter’s more unsavoury habits. It had already cost Millie a new hat and gloves in Harding, Howell & Co when her mother overheard her singing a rough sea shanty in the haberdashery section. No amount of pleading had worked and she had been banished to her room once they got home. Only her mother’s desire to nurture the friendship between Millie and Lady Lucy saw Millie being allowed out later that day to visit Strathmore House.

  ‘Yes Charles, I promise to be on my best behaviour and remain as near-invisible as I possibly can,’ she replied.

  ‘Except, of course, when you are dancing with me,’ added Alex, in an obvious attempt to cheer her up. ‘Then I expect the whole gathering to be watching and wondering who is the magnificent dancer they have in their midst.’ He gave her one of his dazzling smiles and she smiled back at him, knowing that when she was with him, s
he could not stay sad for long.

  ‘Modest, aren’t you, thinking everyone will be staring at you?’ she replied.

  He laughed heartily and, taking hold of her hand, pulled her one step closer to him. Charles noisily cleared his throat, clearly displeased at the way Alex was manhandling his sister. Millie shot her brother a sharp look.

  ‘May I remind you, Brooke, that we are in a public place, so I suggest you let go of my sister’s hand, this instant,’ Charles said. The threat might have been delivered politely, but Millie could see a familiar grey shadow pass over her brother’s eyes. She attempted to move away, sensing Alex was in more danger than he realised, but he held firmly on to her.

  ‘I was just making sure your sister has her dance card with her so I may add my name. That is of course if there are any dances still left to claim,’ Alex replied, with all the charm of one used to getting his own way.

  ‘Yes, well, you can mark her card from a tad further back if you don’t mind, Brooke,’ Charles bit back. Millie glared at him once more. To her mind, he was taking his role of chaperone for the evening far too seriously.

  ‘Now, dear sister, will you please hurry up and offer your dance card so Lord Brooke can choose his dances. Then I shall help you to locate Lady Lucy’.

  Remembering her promise to spend the evening with Alex’s sister, Millie replied, ‘Yes of course, dear brother.’

  Alex let go of her hand and, reaching down, took hold of the ribbon of Millie’s card. He examined the gold picture of the Sphinx on the front and then opened the card. From his evening jacket pocket he withdrew a small pencil and offered it to her.

  ‘Will you mark the dances I may have this evening, Miss Ashton?’ he asked.

  Her stomach fluttered with excitement. He wanted to dance with her in public.

  ‘Since one could hardly call the travesty of a dance lesson I gave you last week sufficient to extinguish my debt for leaving you in the lurch at your uncle’s party, I think it only fair I made amends in public.’