Submissive at others. “But at every turn he rebuffs my rejections and keeps insisting I allow him to call on me. I always decline. And—”
“And?”
“He’s been absolutely forward in his manner toward me every time we meet.”
“This is most fascinating, Millicent. You must give me details.”
Millicent winced. No.
She couldn’t possibly tell her aunt that she had been so thoroughly kissed and caressed by this man that she had half fallen in love with him already. She must think quickly.
“So far, it hasn’t been anything I can’t handle, but I need to know how to rebuke him so that he leaves me alone. We can’t run the risk of him discovering who I am. He may get curious about what I’m doing.”
“The only way for him to discover that is for you to tell him, and I’m sure you won’t let that happen. But I agree that it’s in our best interest that he not pursue you.”
“He’s much too charming.”
“He is a rake who knows all the tricks, and he’s such a worldly gentleman. You must tell me exactly what he has done. Has he compromised you?”
“No, nothing as serious as that,” she fibbed. Millicent groped for the right words. “He caressed my hand and squeezed my fingers the entire time we were dancing.”
“Botheration, Millicent,” her aunt exclaimed. “That’s hardly worthy of gossip. What else did he do?”
Millicent looked at her aunt and wasn’t at all sure she approved of the gleam she saw her in red eyes.
“He blew me a kiss. He danced the waltz with me. He keeps asking to call on me. I know it doesn’t seem like a lot, but he is most persistent. He won’t take no for an answer. I don’t know what to do.”
“I do,” her aunt said with all confidence and in the strongest voice she had used since Millicent arrived. “The one thing that will make Lord Dunraven lose interest in a young lady faster than anything else.”
“What’s that?”
“Having his name linked with hers in the gossip columns. Get your quill, Millicent. We shall write about him and mention you.”
***
Rare late afternoon sunshine filtered through the tree leaves and sliced through the open windows in Chandler’s book room. He sat at the fine rosewood desk that had been his father’s and his father’s before him, trying not to look at the empty shelf where the gold raven should be perched.
He was supposed to be going over the array of account books on his vast estates that were spread out before him, but mostly he was brooding. And thinking of Millicent Blair.
Keeping a sharp eye on the management of his estates and holdings was the reason he’d been able to enjoy his extravagant lifestyle these past years. His father had given him a good start, but Chandler had been shrewd with his investments and the lands he purchased. His managers did an excellent job keeping his land prosperous and his tenants happy. He usually paid each of them a visit in the fall before the dead of winter set over the land.
He knew it to be true that in his younger years he had spent too much money gambling and racing horses, and too many nights in debauchery, but he never came close to endangering his wealth or his properties, though he may have endangered his life a time or two.
Today, he couldn’t concentrate. A certain young lady had captured his fancy and wouldn’t let go. Every time he tried to put her out of his mind, she came back to smile at him, tease him, beckon him. She intrigued him madly. He was sure if she would merely tell him he could call on her properly it would get her out of his mind. It was the chase that no doubt intrigued him.
He swung his chair around and stared out the open window without really seeing anything. It wasn’t like him to be so attracted to a woman that he couldn’t get her womanly scent out of his mind or the sweet taste of her lips out of his mouth. If he hadn’t taken control of himself yesterday afternoon, he would have undressed her right there in that shop—and she would have let him.
There was no doubt that she was as attracted to him as he was to her, yet she refused to have him call on her in a respectable manner. Still, he shouldn’t have let things go so far between them in such a public place.