happened between us that way.”
His fingers constantly moved over her gloved hand, rubbing, caressing. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her.
“That is because you are a scoundrel, sir. You have done such things on many occasions with many different ladies. It is as natural to you as breathing.”
“And that was established before our intimacy this afternoon.”
“You would not have been shamed out of Town had we been caught, but I would have.”
“Millicent, look at me.” When she met his eyes, he continued. “I wouldn’t have let that happen. When as a gentleman I take a risk, I’m fully prepared to accept any consequences that might arise from my actions. You must trust me on this.”
“Your eyes and your expression are so genuine for a moment I could almost believe you. But I can’t. To how many young ladies have you said the same thing?”
“Not as many as you think. You don’t know how badly I want to pull you into my arms and kiss you again, Miss Blair.”
She looked over his shoulder past him again and said, “I must admit that I am not sorry that we kissed yesterday or today.”
“Or the way we kissed so thoroughly?”
Her gaze met his and, for a moment, he thought he saw a hint of a smile on her face. “That’s correct. I found it most pleasurable.”
“I wonder if you could possibly know how saying things like that affect me? I’m not even sure I’m still following the steps of the waltz. I’m pleased you are not overwrought by what happened between us.”
“There will be no shame between us. Not now. It’s too late for that.”
“Not ever. May I call on you tomorrow?”
“No, sir, you may not.”
“Miss Blair, you are driving me mad. After what you just told me how can you still deny me? It’s clear you don’t find me offensive. Why won’t you allow me to call on you?”
Millicent’s loyalty to her aunt forced her to remain unbending and say, “I am not here in London to be trifled with, Lord Dunraven.”
“I hear it in your voice and see in your eyes that you are serious. Trifling is not my intention, Millicent.”
“Your reputation says otherwise, and please don’t call me by my given name.”
“After this afternoon, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to continue to call you Miss Blair.”
“You must.”
“Why?”
“I’m only here for a few months and then I will go back home. You must stay away from me.”
Chandler knew the dance was approaching the end. He would have to return her to the viscountess. “Did you not come to Town looking to make a match?”
“No. I came to help—” She stopped. “I came to see London, to have a Season and enjoy the parties.”
Chandler could have sworn that she started to say something different or something more. But what?
“That is all?”
“Yes. And even if I were seriously looking to make a match, you wouldn’t suit.”
That was plain speaking indeed, not that he thought for a moment he wanted to marry her. He just wanted to be with her, and touch her, and hold her, and kiss her.
“What makes me unacceptable?” he asked.
A faraway look came to her eyes and her face softened beautifully. “My mother had her coming out Season in London over twenty years ago and she—and I wanted to have a Season, too. That is all I can say.”
He was certain now that she wanted to tell him more but wasn’t ready to confide in him. If he didn’t push her anymore tonight maybe in time she would tell him everything. “And whom did she marry?”
“My father.”
He laughed and twirled her around as the dance ended. He bowed. “You delight me, Millicent. How can I give you up?”
She curtsied. “Do not pursue me, Lord Dunraven.”
He took her hand and started walking her back to her chaperone. “I will not be denied, lovely lady. If I can’t call on you openly, I will have to see you in secret—again.”
Eleven
“Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise” and no wonder. Has anyone, perchance, told the dashing Lord Dunraven this fact, he who seems to be in the gossip sheets daily—and should be. Word has it he is no longer interested in Lady Lambsbeth. He now has his eye on a young lady new to Town but obviously not new in the ways of capturing the heart of a confirmed bachelor. He was seen blowing her a kiss.
—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
Dawn couldn’t be