In the blink of an eye, her happiness snapped. He never said he loved her. He would never say he loved her. Ever.
Heartbroken, she leaned against the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m so tired, Marcus. I think I need to sleep.” She said nothing else until they arrived in Bath.
The entire household pampered Milli after she returned home, everyone except her sister.
Three days later, Lizzie stood in Milli’s bedchambers with her hands on her hips. “I cannot believe you won’t marry Marcus.”
Milli shrugged, tugging at a chestnut curl as she leaned into the mirror. She had hidden her bruises with some powder. She grabbed her lavender water and dabbed a few drops behind her ears. “He doesn’t love me.”
“Ah, and you love him. I know how that goes.”
Milli spun around. “Well, since you know the feeling so well, you must know that I cannot, will not, marry him!”
Lizzie sank on her bed and sighed. “Oh, Milli, I am certain he loves you. His past has made it hard for him—”
Milli scoffed as she began to pace about her room.“ His past? Goodness, Lizzie, I am tired about hearing about his past. What about me? What about how I feel?”
Lizzie frowned. “You love him. I know that.”
“And he knows that too,” Milli said, reliving their last kiss in her mind. “How do you think that makes me feel? He will pity me for the rest of my life.”
“Marcus is not like that.”
Milli turned and faced her sister. “He will pity me. I cannot live like that. I am going to marry Lord Hughmont.”
Lizzie gasped. “Elope?”
“Certainly not. I have asked Stephen’s permission to wed at Bath Abbey, and he has given it.”
Lizzie shot up, her eyes flashing. “I don’t believe it. He just returned from London this morning. He would have told me.”
“There are some things a guardian and his ward must keep to themselves. He agrees though, my reputation must be saved. Marriage to a reasonable gentleman is the answer. I don’t mean to hurt you, but this is my life. Please, trust me with my choices.”
Lizzie looked ready to cry.
Milli’s stomach churned with turmoil. She was afraid to say anything else. But her plans were in motion, and no one was going to stop her.
“What about Marcus?” Lizzie finally asked.
“I hope he finds true love some day. I truly do.”
“Oh, Milli,” Lizzie sobbed, dropping her face in her hands. “You are doing the same thing over and over. First Knightengale, and now this. Haven’t you learned anything?”
Milli’s mouth tightened into a thin white line of frustration. “I am doing what I have to do. When I go down to luncheon in a few minutes, I will tell him.”
Lizzie shook her head. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
Milli folded her body into her chair, feeling the hot sting of tears prickling at the edges of her lids. “Oh, Lizzie. Don’t you see? I may be stubborn and opinionated, but if I don’t have Marcus’s love, I cannot marry him.”
Lizzie stared at her through watery eyes that gleamed with mirth. “You little actress. You have a plan, don’t you?”
Milli shrugged and sent her a shaky smile. “I always have a plan, Lizzie. And marrying Lord Hughmont is only the beginning.”
“You will marry me!”
Milli stared at Marcus from across the dining table. His furious gaze almost made her drop the pot of coffee onto her lap. It was only the two of them. It seemed the duchess had made certain they were alone. No servants. No relatives.
She took a swallow of her coffee and calmly stared back at him, desperately trying to hide the chaos rushing through her veins. “I will certainly not marry you when you tell me I must.”
Marcus shot from his seat, throwing his napkin onto the table. “I cannot believe you agreed to marry that worm.”
“Lord Hughmont is everything agreeable. We enjoy books and plays—”
“Does he make your heart beat with desire?”
Milli choked on her coffee, ignoring his question.
He stomped around the table and slipped behind her, clasping her shoulders in a loving embrace. “Does his touch make you tingle from your head down to your toes?”
Her hand shook, but she ignored him and took a bite of her roll.
He slipped a finger behind her ear, stroking the sensitive part of her skin. “Does he make you feel like this?”
She wanted to melt into his arms, but she refused to be a peagoose. With a trembling hand, she took another sip of her coffee, then another bite of her ham.
He bent near her ear and whispered in soft, velvety tones. “Does he stir the passion in your soul? In your heart? In your mind? Can you live without that, my little princess?”
The food stuck in her throat.
“Hell’s teeth, Milli.” He pulled her chair from the table and scooped her into his arms. They were face to face, inches from each other.
Her heart raced as she stared into a pair of glittering silver eyes. She willed herself not to react. He must be made to realize she meant what she said.
“Tell me you do not love me, my little princess. Tell me.”
She shook her head, her heart breaking.
He let her slip to the floor. “Tell me, confound it!”
She sealed her lips shut, wanting more than ever to fall into his embrace and stay there forever.
She thought she detected a flash of vulnerability in his gaze just before he bent toward her and pressed his lips to hers. A shudder whipped through her when his passion exploded. His eyes blazed like fire as he stared back at her.
“Tell me Hughmont can do that.” His husky words tugged at her heart, but she would not give in.
A chilling tension hovered in the air. She gulped past the pain. She looked into his turbulent silver eyes and forced herself to say nothing. She wanted his love, not just his kisses.
His face turned dark. “You can have him then. I wash my hands of you!”
He pulled out her chair, sank her body into it, and strode from the room.
Milli stared at her plate, blinking back the pain.
To her surprise, Jane entered the room. “I heard it all, dearest. Do you want to talk about it?”
Milli shook her head and burst into tears.
Milli’s wedding day had come. She stood beside Lord Hughmont just inside Bath Abbey. She felt a bit overwhelmed in the yellow Bath stone building with its vaulted ceiling as she waited for the rest of the witnesses.
She had arrived early, wanting to be alone, as she prayed inside the church. The scent of freshly polished pews teased her senses.
She pressed a shaky hand against her pale green gown while holding a handful of violets in the other. Tears threatened her eyes. What a watering pot she had become. But Marcus hadn’t spoken to her in days.
“All will be well, my dear,” Lord Hughmont said calmly, looking quite handsome in his black jacket as he squeezed her arm. “‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon’em.’ That is us, I suppose.”
Milli squeaked out a tight smile, knowing he was trying to ease her nerves. “Shakespeare again? I do wonder how you recall all those plays.”
Lord Hughmont chuckled, peeking past the outside doors. “Ah, looks like the duchess has arrived with Lord Stephen and Lady Elizabeth.”
Milli felt her blood race. “Well, let’s do this then. We must not dally or question anything.”
Lord Hughmont’s expression seemed worried. “Are you certain you want to go through this?”
Milli looked at him with a heart filled with hope. “You have been wonderful. I cannot thank you enough for all that you’ve done. But I am determined to be a Bath bride and I will have it.”
Lord Hughmont flashed her a bright smile. “You are a lady among ladies, Miss Millicent Shelby. I have enjoyed every minute sharing our common interests. Our theatrical group adores you, and if you do not mind me saying so
, I do too.”
“That is very sweet of you. Oh, here they come.”
Lizzie walked up beside her. “You are certain about this?” her sister asked warily.
Milli nodded. She glanced at Stephen who gave her a wink.
Milli took in a deep breath and looked at Lord Hughmont. “Is the vicar ready?”
“I’m right here,” a man said, stepping down the aisle. “Has everyone arrived for the ceremony then?”
Lord Hughmont nodded and slipped his hand in Milli’s. “Ready?” he asked.
She lifted her chin, determined to see this through. “I am.”
Marcus paced the study of the Bath home, acting like a caged beast as he snarled at the warm sun beating down on him. A cracking fire blazed in the hearth. He pulled at his cravat, glaring at the duke. “Do you have to make it an inferno in here? It feels like hell itself.”
Roderick pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair, regarding Marcus as he marched from one side of the room to the other. “Hell is what you’re in right now. And I can tell you, with all sincerity, it has nothing to do with sunlight or the flames behind me.”
Marcus spun on his heels. “What the devil does that mean?”
Roderick turned his attention to the papers on the desk. “Do I need to spell it out for you? L-O-V-E.”
“Ha.” Marcus could not believe Roderick was so calm about this. He wanted someone else to be just as miserable as he. “Why are you not at the wedding then? You and Milli seem to get along quite well lately?”
The duke turned and tossed a paper in the fire behind him. “Jane and I quarreled. I thought it better that she went with Stephen and Elizabeth. In fact, Milli didn’t want anyone else. She wanted it to be a small wedding.”
Marcus slapped the wing chair flanking the hearth. “A small wedding indeed. Mother is heartbroken.”
Roderick glared at him in silence.
Marcus walked toward the window, then turned and scowled at his brother. “What?”
The duke lifted an angry brow. “What?” Roderick repeated mockingly. “Thunderation, you could have swept her off her feet anytime you wanted. But no, you had to be the proper English gentleman. No emotion, no attachment. Am I correct? Oh, I forgot, no love. Your past with Lady Madeleine took care of that, didn’t it?”
Marcus’s silver eyes darkened with rage. “I think that is quite enough.”
“No, I don’t think so. In fact, I believe you are as stubborn as Milli, if not more.”
“I am not.”
Roderick snorted in disgust. “Do you hear yourself? Live in the present you dimwitted fool and take a chance. You are letting the best thing that ever came into your life slip through your fingers because of your pride.”
Marcus banged his hand against the wall. “Don’t you think I know it?”
“Then what the devil are you going to do about it?”
Marcus’s mouth tightened into a grim line as he glared past the window where his horse was waiting for his daily ride. “What am I going to do about it?” He jerked around. “I want to stop that blasted wedding. I want to run to the Abbey and ask her forgiveness.” He frowned. “Devil take it, Roderick. I want to fall on my knees and beg that girl to marry me. I don’t care what I have to do.”
The duke shook his head and laughed. “Oh, you have it.”
Confused, Marcus stared at his brother. “Have what?”
“The sickness.”
“I am not ill. I am—”
“Am what?”
Marcus shoved a hand through his black hair in frustration. “I am in love! Confound it! Is that what you want to hear?”
Roderick’s eyes twinkled. “Me, why would I want to hear that you are in love? I thought you were smarter than that. Someone else has to hear it, that is, if you are not too late.”
Marcus bit off an oath. “I won’t be late. But devil take it, if I am, I shall call the cad out.”
Roderick grinned. “Thunderation, Hughmont didn’t do anything yet.”
Marcus strode toward the door, determination etched across his face. “Yes, well, he will never get a chance to do anything! So, laugh if you want. But I am going to get Milli back, no matter what it takes!”
Less than a minute later, he was on his horse, racing along the streets of Bath.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here, in the sight of God —”
“STOP!”
Milli glanced over her shoulder and dropped her bouquet. A tall man stood in the doorway, his towering silhouette setting her heart on fire. “Marcus?”
His powerful form stalked up the aisle. “Were you expecting another suitor?”
She backed up when she saw how black his eyes were. She swallowed. “Now, M-Marcus . . . have a care.”
She glanced at Stephen who was smiling. Lizzie and Jane blinked in shock.
“Have a care?” Marcus said curtly. “Have a care?”
The icy gaze Marcus sent Lord Hughmont made Milli rethink her plans. But it was too late. Without any more warning, Marcus plowed her intended in the jaw.
Hughmont staggered back, holding his chin. He managed a glance Milli’s way, but his expression was anything but amiable. “This, Miss Millicent, is where I draw the line! And in church! By Jupiter, I will not have it!”
The vicar closed his prayer book and frowned. “I am in all astonishment, gentlemen. This is a place of worship, not warfare.”
Ignoring him, Marcus turned to Milli and yanked her into his arms. “You are not going to marry him!”
She lifted two delicate brows. “I am not?” she replied meekly.
“No.”
She curled her hands around Marcus’s neck. “And why is that?”
“Because . . . because, blast it, I love you!”
Her heart gave a thump. “You love me?”
His silver eyes glittered with emotion. “Thunderation, if you don’t know that by now . . .”
“I say, let her go,” Hughmont growled.
Marcus put a hand about Milli’s waist and scooped her into his arms, clutching her to his chest. He shot Hughmont a warning gaze. “Devil take it, do you want a death wish? A Clearbrook never likes a man invading his territory. Did you ever hear about a certain Mr. Fennington?”
Hughmont stood frozen, staring in mute horror.
Milli felt like laughing and crying. “Marcus, please, put me down.”
He did as she asked, but when her slippers hit the floor, he went down on one knee.
Milli let out a stifled sob. “You don’t have to do this. I—”
He gently put his hands over hers. “I do have to do this. I love you, Milli. I have loved you in a very special way from the first time I saw you as a little girl at fourteen. But as you grew into womanhood, my love for you has grown and changed. During the past year, it has grown into a love a man has for a woman. A husband for a wife.”
Tears spilled over Milli’s lids. “Oh, Marcus, why could you not say that before?”
He took her hand and kissed each finger. “It’s not too late. Forgive me for all the stupid things I said. Forgive me for being such a big oaf.” He brought her hand to his cheek. “I love you.”
Behind them, Jane sobbed into a handkerchief while Lizzie cried on Stephen’s shoulder.
Milli lifted a horrified gaze as Hughmont took a menacing step in their direction. “That is all well and good, Lord Marcus. But I demand satisfaction! I am no Mr. Fennington!”
Marcus sprang to his feet. “Any time,” he remarked, the threat in his voice sending chills down Milli’s back.
“Marcus—”
He picked her up with the gentleness of a lover and placed her beside Stephen. “In a minute, my little princess.”
He spun around, his face hard as he glowered at Hughmont. “I will meet you at dawn if you would like. But I will tell you this. You are not marrying my Milli.”
Hughmont turned beet red. “I daresay—”
Mi
lli rushed between the two. “Gentleman, please.”
The vicar finally stepped in. “Millicent, do you wish to marry Lord Hughmont or not?”
Milli looked at Marcus, and her heart slipped to her feet. “I wish to marry Lord Marcus. I love him.”
Marcus pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“Thunderation, Marcus,” Stephen snapped. “This is a church. I think you have done enough damage in here today. This is where I draw the line as well.”
Ignoring his brother, Marcus looked into Milli’s eyes with all the adoration of a man in love. “Will you be my bride, Miss Millicent Shelby, my little princess?”
She pressed her forehead against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. A shudder ran through her. Marcus loved her.
He tipped her chin, caressing her with his silver gaze. “Are you crying?”
She nodded, letting the tears spill over her lids. “I’ve waited so long, Marcus.”
He laughed, looking at Hughmont over his shoulder. “Do you still want satisfaction?”
Hughmont clenched his jaw. “I want a word with Millicent.”
“Milli?” Marcus asked.
She felt her soul glow as she glanced at the man she had loved for years. “He deserves a few words. But my heart is yours. It will always be yours.”
Marcus’s silver gaze clung to hers with promises of things to come. “Two minutes.”
Milli smiled and walked about twenty feet away with Lord Hughmont. Standing next to the side pews, Hughmont frowned, lifting her hand in his.
But Marcus was watching with hawk-like eyes and would have none of that. “Drop her hand, or I will drop it for you.” His voice was low and threatening.
Milli looked up at Lord Hughmont and chewed her bottom lip as happiness bubbled inside her. “He is rather forceful, I’m afraid.”
Hughmont rubbed his jaw. “Forceful? That is an understatement, I daresay. Well, I suppose this will mean the end of our group meetings.”
Milli nodded, the smile in her heart growing. “I cannot thank you enough.”
He blushed. “I will miss you.”
The Mischievous Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 27
