A Dash of Scandal - By Amelia Grey Page 0,24

three of the gentlemen danced with Miss Bardwell last night. Could it be that after all these years we are going to see the Terrible Threesome fighting over the same young lady?

—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column

Millicent sat alone in the dining room of her aunt’s town house finishing a meal of cheese, cooked figs, and fresh-baked bread. Even at half past two in the afternoon it was still difficult for her to clear the sleepiness from her eyes.

Thankfully, Aunt Beatrice’s cook sent up hot tea to Millicent’s bedroom each afternoon to help her wake up. She had not had a proper night’s sleep since she’d arrived in London several days ago.

Millicent didn’t know how her aunt had kept such extended hours for all these years. The pace was grueling. After attending two and three parties each evening until the early morning hours, Millicent would go straight to her Aunt’s bedroom when she returned home and the two of them would discuss the night’s gossip.

Millicent would take notes about what Aunt Beatrice wanted her to write in the column, then, retiring to her room, she would begin the tedious task of making a legible copy for Phillips to deliver to The Daily Reader.

She hadn’t gone to bed until after daybreak since the first day she arrived in London.

While she sipped tea out of a dainty china cup, Millicent’s gaze drifted to the garden outside the window to where the primroses, crocuses, and tree shrubs bloomed in pinks, yellows, and white. Emery was out cutting flowers for Aunt Beatrice’s room, and Hamlet sniffed the ground around Emery’s feet.

Millicent didn’t know why the dog had taken an instant dislike to her. She was usually very good with animals. She could only attribute it to the fact that Hamlet didn’t seem to like anyone but his mistress and Emery. Aunt Beatrice had suggested it was because he was getting old and grumpy, which was more than likely the case.

As Millicent watched Emery and Hamlet, her thoughts faded back to what Earl Dunraven had said last night just before he returned her to Viscountess Heathecoute. A sudden expectancy filled her.

Millicent was shocked, and her aunt would be mortified if she knew the earl had indicated he was going to pursue her. She must stop his interest in her, but for some reason she was reluctant to do that. Even though he was a High Society rake, she found her attraction to him was too powerful to ignore. She had tried. Her only hope was that he would soon tire of her and go on to pursue some other young lady.

A smile lifted the corners of her lips just thinking about how gently yet commandingly he’d touched her while they danced. She loved the feel of the strength in him when he caressed her hand. Oh, and he was so handsome and debonair. He was intriguing and as fascinating a gentleman as she had ever met.

But, and it was a huge but, she had to remember that was exactly how he had earned his reputation for being one of the Terrible Threesome. He knew how to enchant young ladies and make them desire to see him again. She had to remember he liked the chase and to pay suit to young ladies only to go no further than a few dances and paying a call or two. Her smile faded.

She was not one he could trifle with for two very good reasons. Aunt Beatrice had brought her to London to safeguard her position at The Daily Reader, and it was a man comparable to Lord Dunraven who had made her mother an outcast in all of London. If the dashing earl approached Millicent again, she would have no choice but to rebuff him—no matter that she wasn’t inclined to do so. She would not end up like her mother.

Millicent looked out at the lush garden again. It was too beautiful a day to stay inside. Maybe a leisurely stroll among the flowers and shrubs would free her mind of Lord Dunraven. She should join Emery and Hamlet outside in the fresh air and spend a little time thinking up new quotes from Shakespeare to use in the column.

She could always resort to looking through her aunt’s books on Shakespeare’s writings, and reading his works was never a chore, but she rather liked the idea that she could remember so many of her favorite lines without lifting a book or turning a page.

She finished off her tea,

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