The Mischievous Bride (24 page)

Hughmont’s mouth tightened. “We’ll see about that.” And then he was gone.

Milli was feeling sick to her stomach. She shivered as a sour taste crept into her mouth. The air smelled stale, and something smelled very rotten. Besides that, her forehead was sweating, and there was a chill in the air.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away.

Marcus was paying attention to that lady and shoving her to the wolves. That was his plan, was it not? Her suitors were fighting like animals for her attention.

She closed her eyes to the shadows in the maze, trying to think.

Who was that other man? The big man. Nightenheart? No. Eveningale? No. Knightsbridge? No, no. Knightengale? Yes, she thought, feeling herself drifting in a dream. She liked him best. Besides Marcus, of course. Lord Hughmont was sweet, but there was something about him that made her uneasy. He liked acting too much.

She sighed and looked up at the moon. My goodness, there were double moons tonight. How very odd.

She let her head drop to the bench and curled herself into a ball. The cold air was making her shiver.

She thought about her list of suitors. Valford, Bennington and Breadford were too old, too fat, and too smelly. Now, which one was too smelly?

She giggled. She didn’t know how she remembered their names. She needed another drink of champagne. Maybe it would make her warmer.

“Miss Millicent, may I help you?”

Milli blinked, seeing a huge shadow in front of her. “Oh,” she hiccupped. “I was dreaming about you. How did you find me? The maze is . . . a maze.” She giggled.

Knightengale snorted in amusement. “I think you have had too much to drink, my girl.”

She swayed as she tried to stand. Without warning, the big man picked her up, cradling her in the circle of his arms. “Steady there.”

She hung onto his neck. “I don’t think this is p-proper.” She snuggled against his neck. He smelled nice. He wasn’t the smelly one.

“Ah, little one, what do you want me to do?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do anymore. M-Marcus doesn’t l-love me.”

“Let me take care of you, then.” The big man lifted her chin with his finger and looked into her eyes. He lowered his head, letting his mouth cover hers.  

She blinked, feeling smothered. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t like this.

“Let her go.”

Milli felt her world spin as the big man turned.

“Ah, Marcus, good friend, I thought you had the general’s daughter in your pocket?”

Milli lifted her head. “Oh, hello.” There was something in Marcus’s face that made her sad. Where was she?

“You are foxed to the gills, Milli. You need to retire to your room. Now.”

“What?” she squeaked, leaning against a powerful chest. She didn’t quite understand what was going on. Why was she in this big man’s arms? Was there a fox roaming the area?

“Miss Millicent, here is your champagne—”

Milli lifted her head, trying to focus. Lord Hughmont was scowling, and holding a glass of something bubbly. Oh, yes, she had asked him to get her another drink. She peered up at Knightengale. “Hello.”

He smiled down at her. “Hello.”

She blinked and shifted a woozy gaze toward Marcus. “Hello to you too. Do you know how to get out of this maze?” She giggled.

Marcus lifted two angry black brows and glowered at her.

Her fuzzy mind registered that Marcus didn’t like the big man holding her so close. “Um, sir, if you would please put me down.”

“Whatever you wish.” Knightengale gently lowered her to the ground, steadying her. As soon as his hands left her, Milli swayed.

Marcus muttered something and rushed to her side, his hand at her backside. He glared at Knightengale. “Devil take it! The lady has had too much to drink, and you have taken advantage of that fact!”

A few feet away, Hughmont stood motionless, glass in hand.

Milli blinked past a swaying world. She swallowed, feeling the warmth of Marcus’s hold. She glanced at Knightengale and Hughmont who looked uneasy.

“It is pref—pefectly accep . . . table,” she remarked. “Marcus is my guardian’s brother. He has no d-designs on me whatsoever.” She nodded, pleased with herself that she could communicate so well. It looked like there was an army of the same men. How strange.

Knightengale looked at Marcus. “Do you need any help?”

Marcus shook his head, clasping Milli’s waist in a tight hold. She could tell it was him by the way her skin tingled.

“Until tomorrow, Miss Millicent,” Hughmont said gently.

“Tomorrow?” she said, leaning against Marcus. “What is tomorrow?”

“We are going to the book shop to pick up the other plays, remember?”

She nodded, her head swimming in champagne. “Tomorrow, then?”

She leaned against Marcus’s chest as the men left the garden. “I feel quite f-funny.”

He wrapped his other arm around her. “Confound it. Why don’t you just choose one of them and get it over with?”

She understood that clear to her bones. She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “Choose one of them? But I love you . . . and only you. I never stopped . . . loving you.”

He swallowed, setting her way from him. “Milli—”

She climbed onto the bench with his hands still steadying her.

“Millicent, get down from there. I don’t want to have to haul you over my shoulders.”

She put a hand to his lips, feeling quite bold. “Stop t-talking and kiss me.” She fell into his arms and pressed her lips to his with a hunger she had hidden for years.

“You little she-devil,” he mumbled, kissing her back

His hands slid down her back, holding her to him. Her blood began to sing as the sweetness of his lips engulfed her entire being. She ached for him. The feel of his strong body pressed against hers made her feel warm and safe. The other kisses were good, but this was beautiful.

“Goodness,” she said, catching her breath. “I never knew it could be like that. Is that what champagne does?”

Marcus stared at her as if she had purple dots on her face. “You will think differently tomorrow.”

She felt her lips turn upward as she leaned into him. “I will always love you.”

He moved his hands to her hips. “Milli, we—”

“If y-you would help me to my bedchambers, I w-would be forever grateful . . . I truly believe . . . I am going to be s-sick.”

Marcus frowned and moved with the utmost haste. She closed her eyes while his cursing rang in her ears. “Hold on.”

“I think you carried me before like this. Didn’t you? We are entering by the back way. How very romantic.” She burped. “Ah, excuse me.”

He plopped her onto her bed and put a rag to her head. “Shall I fetch your maid?”

She shook her head and winced. “No . . . j-just leave me alone. I n-need to rest.” Her mind was starting to clear, but her head hurt. She had thrown herself at him, and he, the gentleman that he was, could not push her away. She understood that much.

He stared at her, as if afraid to leave her.

She waved her hand to make him go. “M-make my apologies to Jane. I know you hated bringing me here.” She turned her head to the side, not willing to look at him. Hot tears stung her eyes, but she dare not let him see. “P-please, just go away.”

She heard his relieved breath, his heavy footsteps, and then the door closing.

With a sob, she turned into her pillow and cried. Cleo eased her way onto the bed and nudged her.

Milli cried harder. “Where were you when I needed you? I think I am going to be sick.”

Chapter Eighteen

T
he following morning, Milli’s head was pounding like a thundercloud. She had breakfast in her room, which consisted of three cups of black coffee and an egg with half a piece of bread. She picked up the handkerchief Marcus had wet last night. With a frown, she put it on her head, feeling nauseous. She shouldn’t have eaten a thing.

A sickening heat filled every pore of her body when she thought about the way she had acted last night. Marcus must think her a flirt of the worst kind. She had been impulsive, but Marcus hadn’t helped matters. In fact, he was part of the problem!

She was so ashamed of her behavior, that for the rest of the day, she had avoided everyone in the house until Lord Hughmont had come for her at two o’clock to walk to the bookstore. She slipped outside, with him on her arm, wincing as the sun hit her eyes.

“I think I had too much champagne.”

Hughmont frowned. “I told you. But you refused to listen. I vow, when you are set on something, Miss Millicent, you are like a dog with his favorite bone.”

She tried to laugh, but her head hurt. She put a hand to her eyes and grimaced. “I should have listened to you. I’m sorry if I asked you to refill my glass. That was not well done of me.”

He smiled. “I cannot deny you anything.” There was an awkward paused before he cleared his throat. “Well, perhaps you will feel better once we enter the shop.”

Milli’s head thumped with pain. “Do you think the waters help with megrims?”

He halted and gazed down at her. “If it would please you, we could go there first.”

Milli swallowed past the bile climbing in her throat. If she never had another sip of champagne, it was fine with her. “If you don’t mind hiring a chair. I don’t think I could walk that far.”

Hughmont hired a conveyance, and they were in the Pump Room within ten minutes. A small set of strings played a light concerto, but the music banged against her ears like clanging cymbals. People chuckled, twittered, and cackled, adding to the mayhem.

Milli wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Instead, she sat in a chair, sipping from her glass, hoping the room would stop spinning. Her companion was talking to his father who happened to show up at the same time they arrived. Lord Hughmont excused himself and moved to the opposite end of the room as he discussed something with the older man.

The bookshop would have been quieter, she thought with a frown. She was never going to take another glass of champagne as long as she lived.

“Good afternoon, Miss Millicent.”

Milli looked up to see Lady Horatio and Lady Philomena standing beside Miss Canton. Milli rose on wobbly legs and held to her chair. The older ladies made the introductions.

Milli eased out a small smile and conversed a bit, wishing she had never left the house. After a minute or two, Lady Horatio and Lady Philomena moved on, leaving Milli alone with Miss Canton.

 Milli’s knees almost gave out. “I am not feeling quite the thing today. I was feeling a bit ill last evening too and missed meeting you at the ball.”

Miss Canton’s eyes sparkled with sympathy. The lady was so beautiful, she took Milli’s breath away. She smelled of an expensive French perfume, light and sophisticated.

“Take a seat, my dear.”

“Thank you.” Grateful, Milli sighed and folded into the chair as if it were heaven. She peered up at the beautiful woman. “I had too much champagne last night, and those ladies were the last thing I needed.”

Miss Canton laughed as she took a seat beside her. “I understand. Sometimes, they can be a bit too informative on subjects we would rather forget. As to the champagne, I’ve done the same thing. But if I were in your place, I cannot blame you.”

Milli’s brows rose.

Miss Canton looked about the room. “With your money, you could have any gentlemen you want. The choices are endless.”

Milli’s gray eyes sparkled at the blunt comment. “I believe the gentleman will have a say in that. And endless is not quite the way I would put it.”

She felt Miss Canton’s honesty quite refreshing, even if the lady was wrong. She could not have any gentleman she wanted. Not Marcus.

“I believe Lord Knightengale and Lord Hughmont looked quite put out last evening.”

Milli squinted against the sunlight. “I vow, I will never take another glass of champagne. Ever.”

“Oh, you may change your mind some day.” Miss Canton waved to her father across the room. “Papa is partial to Lord Marcus. But he likes all the Clearbrooks. You must miss your father. I know I would.”

Milli closed her eyes, trying to block out the pain from the champagne and from the lady’s question. “I miss him everyday.”

Miss Canton tapped Milli’s hand in a comforting manner. “Papa says the investigation is still ongoing. Well, you probably know that already. But I do not want you to give up hope.”

Milli’s lids jerked open. Investigation?

“They do try to keep the women out of it, do they not?” Miss Canton went on.

Milli clamped her lips shut, her mind going a hundred directions. She took in a deep breath, and finally spoke. “I am not told much at all.”

“Ah.” The lady leaned forward, whispering. “Woman to woman, I admit, I read the papers on Papa’s desk the other day. It said something about the murderer being found, but it will take some time. It must be terribly hard for you.”

Milli’s eyes became as round as the glass she had put aside. What was this lady saying? “Murderer?” she stammered.

The lady didn’t seem to catch on to Milli’s bewilderment. “Quite disturbing, I daresay. But you are handing it quite well.”

Milli wanted to scream. Was the lady saying what she thought she was saying? “Yes, well, it is all rather disturbing.”

“Quite so. The man was your father. Your very own papa. I vow I have no idea how I would go on if someone murdered my dear papa.”

Milli almost fell off the seat. She felt sick. Her hands shook. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She grabbed her water glass for something to do. She squeezed it so hard, she thought it might break.

Luckily, the lady kept talking. “Of course, no one knows I have any knowledge about this at all. But lady to lady, I am certain you do not mind, do you dear? An ear to the wall, they say . . .”

Milli shook her head, her throat thickening with dread.

“But goodness,” the lady continued in a low voice, “to die by poison is a terrible thing. However, I am certain they will find the murderer. My papa is very good. And Lord Marcus is on the trail, as well as his brothers. Oh, and you know Lord Stonebridge has quite the background in detective work. They were all secret agents in the war against Napoleon. Oh, dear, I don’t know why I am telling you what you already know.”