Millie made a dismissive noise.
“You just carry on with your plan to test the limits of Society’s outrage,” Lenora said. “But don’t go as far as to ruin my chances—or Nettie’s. Or Emily’s, for that matter.”
“I gave up on you and Nettie a long time ago.Love. Love. Love.That’s all you and she ever want to discuss.”
“To be fair”—Lenora raised her brows—“Nettie talks about pastries quite a bit.”
“Well, Lady Emily, at least, is no more interested in finding a husband than I am.” While not strictly a Wainwright, Emily had become part of the family circle.
Lenora frowned. “Did Emily tell you she had no interest in marriage?”
Millie shrugged. “Why else would she have delayed her debut another year?”
“So she might come out with Nettie, of course.”
“Well, anyone who places their security in something as fickle as love is, in my opinion, mad.I’drather be notorious than leg-shackled!”
“Notorious?” Lenora chuckled. “Well, that dress of yours is a nice start.”
Millie’s smile broadened. “Isn’t it just?”
*
To Ambrose AugustusMerriweather, better known as Lord Neville, this Wednesday night at Almack’s was even more painful than the last. Every stratagem he could think of to keep his gaze from repeatedly straying to Millicent Wainwright had failed. In his defense, she was, by far, the most beautiful young lady in the room.
Pity she was also the most infuriating.
Little lordling, she’d taken to calling him. And every time she did so, he wanted to—Well, perhaps he should just say he could think of any number of ways to put her lips to better use. He closed his eyes, shook the thought right out of his mind and then reopened them.
Unfortunately, she was still directly within his line of sight.
The pale purple hue of the silk gown she’d chosen may have been appropriate, but the closely fitted cut was drawing too many pairs of eyes. Male eyes. Including his own. He sent his friends Lord Asquith and Lord Blackwood a sidelong glance.Of course, they were staring in her direction, too.
“She’s outdone herself tonight.” Lord Blackwood folded his hands behind his back as he shook his head. “What a spectacle!”
“If you mean Miss Millicent”—Neville used the excuse to prolong his study—“Then, yes, I wholeheartedly agree.”
“Actually, I was speaking of Duchess of Harbury.” Blackwell smirked. “And, for that matter the duke.”
“I don’t see anything untoward inhisbehavior.” Neville replied.
The duke and duchess were dancing too close, of course. But Harbury was his cousin. If Neville was anything, he was loyal.
Blackwell turned to Asquith. “Even your mother and her fellow battle-axe dowagers are over there sighing.”
“I know,” Asquith replied darkly. “My mother has a soft spot for allthe Wainwright ladies. Only the twins are her godchildren, but, since I inherited their guardianship from my father, she’s taken the younger three under her wing, too.” Asquith’s gaze followed the couple as they took another turn. “I cannot believe how hard Harbury has fallen for Cassie! Redver for Eliza, too. Clearly, the Wainwrights pose significant danger to any unmarried man.”
“Do I detect a hint of fear?” Blackwell took his friend’s measure. “Fear, perhaps, you may be the next to succumb to the siren call of a Willful Wainwright?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Neville cut in. “Asquith would never do anything so untoward as to fall for one of his wards.”
“Untoward,” Asquith repeated under his breath. “Yes, very.” He gave himself a subtle shake. “A marital alliance is out of the question—not that I’d want one.”
“What do you think is their secret?” Blackwell asked.
Asquith shrugged. “Well, Eliza is a firebrand. Cassie is sweet. Nettie has a bright and curious mind. And Millie…” He frowned. “Well, clearly every man present has taken note of that dress. Every man other than myself, that is. Millie has been like a hoydenish little sister to me.”
“You see?” Neville said to Blackwell. “If he fears anything, it’s failing to marry them off in a timely fashion.”
