“Ah,” Blackwell replied. “Then I suppose desperation to marry them off is why, when the Wainwright ladies were living with your mother and you moved into the Albany, you begged us to come along with you whenever you were invited to dine?”
“I asked you to come because you adore the tarts my mother’s pastry chef is so fond of creating.” His gaze met Neville’s. “Him, I invited because he’s a paragon.”
“I asked him because he’s a paragon. An absolute model of propriety.”
“I see,” Blackwell responded at length. “No one could accuseeither of us of having nefarious intentions toward the ladies with a bishop’s nephew at our side.”
“Glad to be of service,” Neville said dryly.
Blackwell cocked his head and frowned. “Neville, am I mistaken, or did Asquith forget to mention Miss Lenora when describing the Misses Wainwright?”
“Lenora.” Asquith said under his breath. “I could never forget Lenora.”
Neville frowned.
Last summer, Asquith, who’d always taken care to keep his distance from the youngest Misses Wainwright, had disappeared into a maze with Miss Lenora. Goaded on by Miss Millicent, Neville had plunged into the maze, intent on finding the pair before any damage was done.
Then, Miss Millicent had burst upon him, and then…
Well, he’d rather not think aboutand then.
“Asquith,” Blackwell said with an edge of disappointment. “Have you, perhaps, been using us as a shield?”
“How lovely Millie looks…” Asquith changed the subject.
She did that.The minx.
“…Hard to believe she’s the same cheeky chit that stole my breeches so she could practice riding astride.”
Neville felt as if someone had punched his gut.
Asquith chuckled nervously, clearly hoping that a shockingon ditwould permanently alter the conversation.
Neville’s frown deepened.
Which was worse—theyew incidentor the indecent picture that arose in his mind of Millicent in breeches? Again, he shuttered his thoughts. While he might find his natural, ah, appreciation for her form difficult to suppress, he’d no desire at all to be intimately acquainted with the lady.
Shewasa hoyden, through and through.
But—my God—how had she gotten Asquith’s breeches up over those hips?
Hips that had, for a few indescribable moments, accidentally fit against his own as they’d tumbled backward into dark branches.
He closed his eyes, again, reminding himself his interest could only ever befamilialin nature. Her sister Cassie—the very sister dreamily circling the room—had married his cousin.
Which, in a way, made Millicent part of his family, now. And as part of the family, didn’t he have a responsibility toward her?
The two eldest Wainwrights had, by a mere hair’s breadth, skirted scandal.Someoneneeded to keep an eye on Miss Millicent, lest she tumble into the same.
Tumble.
He cleared his throat. Poor choice of words.
“Breeches you say?” Blackwell cocked his head. “Can’t imagine…”
Neville lifted a brow. Blackwell had better not try to imagine!
“…Though, I must admit, she is the most dashing and statuesque of this year’s crop. My interest, of course, is purely academic,” Blackwell clarified. “I’ve no taste for scandal, and ten to one Millie will embroil herself in one before the little Season is done.”
