by Wendy Vella
Her teeth snapped together, and he was unsure if that was anger or cold.
“It is pride, isn’t it? That is the only reason you are doing this.”
There was more to it than that, but for now he merely said, “I am sorry for your loss, and you were right in that I should have told you sooner, Milly.”
If she heard him she showed no sign. Instead, she stomped from the church and through the churchyard. He reached her side and took her bag, and then her arm.
“I cannot outrun you, so have no fear on that front, my lord.”
“No, but as you do not know where my horse is, I will show you.”
She muttered something that Joseph was fairly certain was unfavorable toward him, and let him take her to the stables. He lifted her onto Monty, and climbed up behind.
As he left for Greyton, Milly sat upright, her back rigid to ensure no part of it touched him. The distance was not great, but by the time they finally arrived, the tension between them was thick. They rode up the driveway to the front door instead of going to the stables.
“I will wait in a parlor until you are ready to leave for London, my lord.”
“And run as soon as I leave you alone,” Joseph said, dismounting. He lifted her down. “Come.” He took her arm and led her inside, where he removed his outer clothing and then waited until she had done the same.
“We will eat and put on dry clothes. I will tell my brothers what I am about, and then we will leave.”
“Will you tell them about me?”
“Rory knows, so I will tell him. Charles will not wake until after we have gone, so I will leave it to Rory to tell him what he will.”
“I will wait here.”
“Stop being foolish. The game is up, now come along.” Joseph led her to the stairs.
“You think this was a game, Lord Ellsworth? The foolish carrying on of a silly woman? That I would leave everything I held dear behind in London just for fun?”
Warmth greeted them as they walked into his study, the fire crackling cheerfully in the grate.
“I don’t know why you did what you did,” he ground out, releasing her arm to face her. “I know there was danger, but nothing more. Tell me, so I will understand.”
She backed away from him. Suddenly the fire inside her had burned out, and she was once again contained. Joseph wanted to shake her... hard.
“I would like to wash, please.”
“Of course.” Joseph put his head outside the door and shouted for his butler.
“There is no need to roar at him because you are angry at me.”
“Don’t tell me how to speak to my staff!”
“Don’t be nasty, and I will not need to.”
He stormed back to her side.
“I don’t remember Lady Millicent giving a damn about the way I spoke to servants.”
“She did not give a damn about many things she should have.”
“My lord?”
Joseph dragged his eyes from Milly to speak to his butler.
“Bailey. Lady Millicent has need of a room to wash. Have a bath drawn and bring her a tray. We will also be leaving for London. Please prepare for my departure as soon as possible.”
“I will see to it at once, and return for Lady Millicent when everything is ready for her.”
Joseph handed her bag to Bailey and then shut the door behind him. Milly had moved to the fire, and his eyes fell on the ugly cap.
“Remove your disguise, if you please.”
“I don’t take orders from you, my lord.”
Before she could stop him, he had reached her side and removed it himself, hurling the offending cap into the fire.
“Good God!” Her hair was a dark muddy brown. It was hideous, and made her skin look sallow. “What the bloody hell have you done to your hair!”
“How dare you!” She looked at the flare of flame as the ugly cap burned. “You had no right to destroy my clothing.”
“It was hideous, as is the color of your hair!” Joseph wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but his skin suddenly felt too tight, and his breathing was rapid.
“I’m sorry it does not please you, O great and noble lord!”
Joseph rang the bell with a vicious yank.
“My lord?” His butler reappeared.
“Bailey, Lady Millicent needs to wash that color from her hair. Have someone find something to do that.”
“Stop lording about over me!” Her words were spat out vehemently, followed by several curses that had his eyes narrowing.
“Where did you learn to curse like that?”
She glared at him defiantly, with not a trace of shame on her face.
“In a pub, where I washed dishes.”
Joseph squeezed the bridge of his nose, for no other reason than the sharp jolt of pain gave him clarity.
“I can look after myself now, Lord Ellsworth, and I do not need you ordering your servants about on my behalf as if I am not in the room!”
Joseph wasn’t used to people questioning his actions, especially not this woman. But he had seen plenty of evidence since she had reentered his life of the change the last four years had wrought in her.
“You may have set this course,” she added, “however, I do not need to comply with your every whim. Indeed, I will in all likelihood run again, and you will never find me.”
He took off the glasses next, before she could stop him, and it allowed him to see her anger. Milly’s blue eyes flashed as color stormed her cheeks.
“You will not run, Lady Millicent.” Joseph made himself speak slowly, calmly, when inside he felt like a raging beast. “Because you owe it to your father to read what is in those papers.”
“I owe him nothing.”
“Because it was he who set the course you had to take four years ago?”
She did not reply.
They were close; he could see the flare of anger in her eyes, feel the rush of breath from her lovely mouth, and see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. It stirred his body to life. It was purely a physical reaction, he reasoned, brought on by the savage mood he was currently experiencing. He’d wanted her before, and that had not changed, even with anger.
“Let me take the stage to London.”
“You are a Marquess’s daughter, you will act like one.”
Her fists clenched as she fought for control. He’d never seen this side of her, the emotion that she’d kept carefully locked away inside that polite facade. Was this the woman she had kept hidden from him?
“Go to hell,” she whispered.
“I’ve been there, and have no wish for a return trip, Lady Millicent.”
Chapter 14
She was ready when the butler knocked to tell her they were to leave for London shortly. Milly had allowed her hair to be scrubbed many times until it was clean and the natural color had returned. Her scalp ached, and the headache that had been a niggle was now raging. She had sat on the bed and eaten the tray of food left for her, but had not rested. She was too tense for that. Joseph wanted the truth, but she did not want to give it to him.
Whatever was in those papers, she doubted it was more than debts, and her father’s words begging forgiveness. She would go to London, because now he was dead. Perhaps Joseph was right and the danger had passed. If that was indeed the case, then she could allow herself to find a place to settle. Once she had read them, she would leave and find somewhere quiet to go. She could finally, hopefully, stop running.
Perhaps a position as governess in a country house? There were many wealthy people who were not peers who sought governesses for their daughters.
Milly did not dwell on how Joseph had withheld the news of her father’s death. He was angry with her, and believed his actions justified. They were not. But it no longer mattered.
She did not mourn for the late Marquess. He had been a cold man, and ultimately it had been his greed that had changed the course of her life. He had forced her to flee London, or face a future with a ma
n who was no better or—Milly believed—decidedly worse than him. A man who would stoop at anything to have her.
A knock on the door had her rising. She found a maid when she opened it.
“Lord Ellsworth wishes you to wear this, my lady.”
Milly took the heavy blue velvet cloak and gloves from the maid. Had it belonged to Eleanor? She had not worn anything so fine in a long time, and as she was no fool, she would not refuse to wear it now. This would keep her warm, as her thin, damp coat could not.
“Your bonnet is damp, my lady—”
“I shall not need a bonnet. Thank you for your help.”
“You are welcome, my lady.”
The maid left after Milly refused again to let her style her hair. A simple braid would do, as it had for many years.
Pulling on the cloak, she did up the toggles. Milly had long since forgone her vanity, as there was no need to look her best, and in doing this, she had realized just how self-obsessed she had once been. The gloves were lined with fur, and she sighed at the blissful feeling she once would have taken for granted.
It was also a relief not to push in her cheek rolls or wear the glasses. Not that she would admit that to Joseph. Passing the mirror, she allowed herself a quick glance, and saw her hair was once again the color it had been. She saw her pale cheeks and the dark smudges beneath her eyes, but little else. Milly did not look in mirrors much anymore. Often she did not recognize the person staring back at her.
“Dear God, let this be the last leg of my journey,” she whispered. Then, taking two deep breaths, she willed the throbbing in her head to ease and left the room.
She walked the halls, and down the stairs to the front entrance. The carriage stood in readiness. Beside it was Lord Ellsworth’s horse. Milly was relieved that she would not travel alone with him in carriage.
“Are you ready?”
She did not turn at his words, instead nodding and walking to the carriage. He beat her there, his hand reaching the handle first.
“Allow me, my lady.”
She did not look at him or acknowledge his use of her title; instead she climbed inside, and he shut the door with a soft click behind her.
Milly did not look at Greyton as they left; she doubted she would ever return there. She had learned that too, not to look back or wish for what she could not have.
The rain had stopped, but the day was still cold and gray, just like her thoughts. Her future was again uncertain, although now she was to approach it with some degree of comfort. Running her hands over the fine velvet of the cloak, she closed her eyes rather than look at the tall, straight figure of the man who rode beside her window. She rested her aching head.
She must have slept, because when she opened her eyes he was seated across from her, and the rain was coming down again. He looked composed and comfortable, and Milly tried to appear the same, when inside she was anything but.
“We will stop for the night, and then on to London tomorrow.”
Milly was not one to wake with all her faculties in perfect working order. She never had, no matter how hard she tried. Often she needed a few minutes—actually more like thirty—to find her feet. Blinking, she attempted to gather herself. It would not do to let her guard down with this man.
“Tell me why you left London, as now I am sure there was no other man.”
“No.” Milly’s heart was suddenly beating hard in her chest.
“Your father was known to gamble, was it something to do with that?”
Dear Lord.
“It had become impossible for me to marry you. Therefore, I had to leave,” Milly said, hoping that would be enough to appease him. Of course, she was only fooling herself. This man would stop at nothing but the truth.
“That tells me nothing. You owe me the truth, Milly.”
She closed her eyes briefly at his use of her name. He had once called her Millicent. Could she tell him more? Was the danger really gone? Did she dare?
“Tell me, and I swear it will never leave my lips. Your secret will be safe with me.”
She knew he would be true to his word, so taking a deep breath, she began her story.
“My father invested badly and could not recoup his losses. The man to whom he owed a great deal of money came to our house the night before I confronted you at the cemetery. He wanted his money back.”
He watched her intently.
“My father could not pay him.”
“You were party to this conversation?”
Milly nodded, remembering the night that had changed her life forever as if it were yesterday.
“I had come to return my father’s stationery, which I had borrowed. The door was ajar, and I overheard my name. I stopped to listen.”
“Who was the man?”
“I did not recognize his voice.”
“Continue with your story.”
“It is not a story, it is the truth. Whether you believe it is no concern of mine,” Milly said.
“You’ve changed a great deal.”
His face revealed nothing, and yet she did not believe that change was for the better in his opinion. How could he look so cool and aloof when Milly’s insides resembled a butter churn?
“Yes, I have changed. How could I not? Now, I have no wish to continue with this discussion, and there can be nothing achieved by doing so. I will come to London, read the papers, and then leave.”
She thought he would relent, even exhaled in relief, and then he spoke.
“Continue with your story. I want to know more about this man.”
She was tired, and her head hurt, but she had nowhere to escape to.
“Please continue with your story.”
They stared at each across the carriage, the distance so small, and yet a chasm.
“I overheard the man stating that he would take me in payment for his debt, as was first discussed.” Milly clenched her fists in the folds of the cloak. The memory of her father’s treachery still cut deep, even so many years later. “My father spluttered, but did not deny it, but said that I was to marry you and that this could not be changed.” She fell silent, not wishing to continue
“Finish the story.”
She looked at him, wanting to beg him to let her stop, but one look into those cold green eyes, and she knew he would not allow her to.
“Th-the man said he would take care of you, and make it look like an accident. Father blustered once more, saying the man could not murder an earl’s heir, simply to have me as his mistress. The man said he wanted me as his wife, and for his children’s mother to be of noble birth. He then said if father did not hand me over, he would tell everyone that we were penniless.”
She looked out the window, seeing nothing but that night. The fear, the betrayal, the gut-wrenching despair of what she must do.
“My father then said to make sure your death did not lead back to him. It was the threat of people believing him poor that swayed him. Appearances were more important than my happiness and your life.”
And that had hurt, Milly remembered. She’d known that the Marquess felt nothing for his daughter, but she had not believed his reputation had been worth more to him than Joseph’s life.
“You broke our betrothal to save me, and then fled London?”
Milly did not look at him as he spoke, but kept her eyes on the window.
The hands that grabbed her were hard. She was turned to face him.
“You should have come to me! My father was a powerful man, and I was not without influence.”
His eyes blazed as Milly shook his hands free. “I did what I believed was right.”
“How noble of you!”
His words took her breath away. How dared he belittle what she had done?
“I loved you. I would have done whatever I needed to keep you safe.”
“You loved what you believed I was!” Milly spat the words at him, enjoying the flood of heat that accompanied her anger. “You loved the docile, innocent young woman. The
lady who would be a pleasing accessory upon your arm. That was not love!”
“It matters not what kind of love it was, only that I cared for you.” He gritted the words out between clenched teeth. “What matters is you did not trust me to protect you. What matters is that you will never know what kind of love we may have had.”
Milly dragged her eyes from his. “I could not allow him to murder you.”
“Had you come to me, I would have confronted your father and gained the man’s name. I would have got to him first, my lady. Did you think of that?”
She hadn’t. Her instinctive reaction had been to save him and flee. Dear Lord, she had not thought at all. Should she have gone to him? What did it matter now, as she could not go back to that day. What was done was done.
Joseph looked at the long golden braid that hung over Milly’s shoulder. He remembered how it had shone when the sunlight hit it. How it felt when he touched a curl. He’d once loved her hair. Seeing it now made him want to roar like a wild beast.
Damn her father. Damn this unknown man, but more than anyone, damn her for not coming to him. Now he knew the truth, it offered him no relief, other than that she had not left him for another man. Her actions had been to protect him first and foremost, and one day soon he would likely acknowledge that, but now all he could see was the pain she had caused them both.
When he’d joined her reluctantly in the carriage as the rain had begun to pour down, he’d found her sleeping, and she had continued to do so for another hour. Joseph had never taken his eyes from her.
She had not slept peacefully, instead twitching and murmuring. Her hands had clenched and unclenched, and Joseph had wanted to wake her from her dreams, but had refrained. Coward that he was, he was not ready to face her so soon. Not when he was now looking at Lady Millicent.
“I did what I believed was right.”
“You were wrong,” he said, and then turned away from her.
Joseph did not speak to her again. He did not feel reasonable, and the anger that was never far when she was near had flared. Time, he decided. He needed time to think and find the rational side of his nature.
