me, who gave you this information?”
“I’d rather not say, Aunt Beatrice. My source believes she talks to me in secret.”
“And she does. The same as I talk to you and you to me in private. Good heavens! Do you think I’d ever reveal where Lord Truefitt’s information comes from? What a ninny I would be if I did that. And if anyone finds out I am Lord Truefitt, I’ll leave Town in shame.”
“I understand that. I’m certain that she would not tell me something that didn’t happen. She is most reliable.”
“I’m certain of that, too. Heavens, Millicent, I’ve been doing this for over fifteen years and I’ve trusted no one with the information but my contact at The Daily Reader, the Heathecoutes, and now you.”
What her aunt said was true and gave Millicent some reassurance, but this made her certain she’d never like writing about other people’s personal lives. What if Lord Dunraven didn’t want anyone to know he had talked to Lady Lambsbeth?
“Very well,” Millicent relented. “My informant is Lady Lynette Knightington.”
“Hmm. The one with the birthmark?” Aunt Beatrice screwed up her face in thought while Hamlet licked her hand.
Millicent nodded.
“Her father being a duke, she’s always at the best parties. She’s usually quiet. Spends most of her time just watching other people. I seldom see her talking with anyone.”
“Maybe that’s because no one takes the time to really talk to her,” Millicent offered.
“She does know everyone. The poor dear has no chance of making a match. I think she realizes that, but she does seem to always be around. I suppose it’s quite possible that she saw them together.”
“Lady Lynette has been very kind to me every time I’ve seen her. I told you she paid a call yesterday.”
“Yes, yes. I remember that. She’s probably a good contact for you. I think we can consider her a reliable source. Tell me exactly what she said to you tonight.”
“Let me think.” Millicent started putting her belongings back into her reticule now that Hamlet had inspected it all and had settled down again.
“We don’t have time for you to think, Millicent,” her aunt said impatiently.
“I was taking my leave and…” Unexpectedly, she thought of the soft kiss Lord Dunraven had given her in the garden.
“Millicent?” her aunt asked again.
“While Lord Heathecoute was helping his lady with her cloak, Lady Lynette came over and whispered she’d seen the two of them having a private conversation near the front door.”
“Perhaps they had planned to meet there.”
“I really don’t know. Lady Lynette added that Lady Lambsbeth was even more radiant than she had been last year.” A wistfulness entered Millicent’s voice. “Lady Lynette discreetly pointed with her fan to a lady not far away. From what I could see of her, she was indeed very beautiful.” As she said the words, Millicent felt another small stab of—jealousy? Is that what she felt? Surely not.
“As beautiful and as deadly as a jeweled dagger,” Aunt Beatrice said. “Did Lady Lynette by chance overhear anything they said to each other?”
“Not that she mentioned.”
“No, of course not. The dear girl wouldn’t want to go that far with the gossip.”
Millicent again wondered if she and her aunt were even talking about the same Lady Lynette. Millicent found the duke’s daughter to be a deep well of gossip, especially where Lord Dunraven was concerned.
“Hurry, get your quill and vellum, Millicent, we must not tarry. If Lady Lynette saw them talking so did others. We will dedicate our entire column to this story.”
Millicent squeezed her eyes shut for a moment when she turned away. She didn’t like the knot of guilt that coiled and rumbled in her stomach.
What had she done to Lord Dunraven? What would he say if he ever found out what she had done?
Would he ever forgive her?
Nine
“Oh, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.” One has to wonder if Lord Dunraven has so short a memory. Wasn’t it only last year that Lord Lambsbeth challenged him to a duel in White’s? But this one has just discovered there will be no challenge this Season, for Lady Lambsbeth is a widow.
—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
Millicent breathed in deeply as she enjoyed a leisurely drive in the open carriage to the business area located near her aunt’s town house. She was properly accompanied by her aunt’s housekeeper rather than her own maid, because Mrs. Brown needed to pick up some things for Lady Beatrice.
The housekeeper was as