“So, you refuse to believe my reputation might have been exaggerated by the gossips?”
“No, I believe some of the rumors have been overstated,” she said, remembering the things Lady Lynette had said. “But the fact remains that an association with you could ruin my reputation and I’m not willing to chance that. I would like for you to return my dance card and leave me be.”
An unfamiliar wrinkle formed in his brow. “So you have no desire to get to know me better.”
Millicent hesitated for a moment but finally said, “That’s right. That is exactly what I want.”
“Not to know me better or for me not to know you better?”
She took a deep breath. “You are far more frustrating than I am, sir. Either or both will do, Lord Dunraven. Let me see how much plainer I can be on this subject. I have no wish to associate with you whatsoever. Does that make it clear enough for you?”
For a moment he looked wounded, and she hated that she was so harsh. If only he knew how much she would enjoy getting to know him better.
“Yes. I believe I’m clear on that now and so is everyone else in the room.”
Millicent glanced around, and suddenly it looked as if a thousand eyes watched her. She willed her cheeks not to flame red. Aunt Beatrice was going to consider her an utter failure. She would be sent packing to Nottinghamshire in shame just like her mother and all because of this handsome rogue.
“I didn’t mean to be so loud or so harsh. You’ve forced me to be that way by insisting you want to call on me when I’ve tried politely to discourage your interest.”
“I do believe I understand now. And I know exactly what I need to do.”
She took a deep breath. “Good. Now would you mind ever so much returning my dance card and pencil so that I might take my leave?”
“Certainly.” He pulled his hand from behind his back and laid the items in her outstretched palm. She quickly folded her fingers over them.
“Here they are. Why don’t you put them inside your reticule? That’s where you like to keep your dance card, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s a very good idea. I—I find it easier to keep up with it.”
“Easier than tied to your wrist, Miss Blair?”
An odd feeling shook Millicent. Sometimes he said things that made her feel like he could read her mind and knew what she was doing for her aunt.
“Millicent, dear, how are you? Are you hurt?” Lady Heathecoute came rushing over to her as fast as her large frame would allow her to move. “I just heard you were knocked to the floor and trampled upon and Lord Dunraven was kind enough to help you up.”
“Angels above, my lady, where did you hear that? I was only lightly bumped. I didn’t fall and I certainly wasn’t stepped on. I am fine.”
“Are you sure? You do look a bit flushed in your cheeks. Do you need smelling salts?”
“No. I’m positive, I’m quite all right.”
When the viscountess moved from in front of her, Millicent saw that Lord Dunraven had disappeared and there was only a crowd of strangers standing around her.
She should have been relieved that he was gone. Any kind of relationship with him would only mean trouble for her. She’d had an unexpected kiss from him. That should have been enough, but instead, she found it only left her wanting more.
Eight
“Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood,” which is why this one only seeks to provide information so that you might be the judge. Lord Dunraven was seen having a tête-à-tête with Lady Lambsbeth last evening. After the scandal they caused last year, one has to wonder what they discussed.
—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
Chandler watched Miss Blair leave the party with the Heathecoutes and took a deep breath. He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and felt for the dance card. It was safely tucked inside.
Good. It was almost too perfect how his plan had worked.
He really hated having to bump into her so hard, but when he saw her taking her dance card off her wrist, he knew what he had to do. A slight bump would not have accomplished his goal. It was still unbelievable to him that she never even looked at the card he had given her—a blank card he had borrowed