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Chapter 4
Rhys walked back home, lost in deep thought. What devil had prompted him to kiss Miss Lewis? In daylight, in the middle of the park, no less.
He used to be rational and logical. He had rarely let his emotions get the best of him, yet this woman brought out the worst in him.
When he was close to her, he returned to that young boy, hurt by the girl he thought he loved. But that was so long ago. Harboring any ill will toward her was childish and irrational.
She might be a fallen woman—a wanton—but he did not need to stoop to her level.
He was a marquess. He had a daughter to think of. He had too much to lose, and he shouldn’t let that woman get to him.
He entered the house to see the servants scurrying to clean up the hall.
“Where’s Millie?” Rhys addressed his butler.
“She went to the blue salon with Button,” the old man answered.
Rhys heaved a sigh. The blue salon was probably already ruined.
Button was a good and clever dog. But he was spoilt, and he enjoyed running around the house and jumping on furniture, especially in the company of his little mistress.
Rhys had bought him for his daughter as a puppy. He had never seen a Newfoundland dog before in his life, so he had no idea how large he would grow up to be. Luckily, Button was very friendly. Unluckily, being as huge as he was, he often didn’t anticipate his weight would overpower the object of his affections.
The only person he was gentle with was Millie. And for that, Rhys was grateful. Button did not listen to his tiny mistress. But at least Rhys could be certain that the dog would never hurt her.
Rhys slowly made his way toward the blue salon. A loud crash came just before he opened the door and beheld Button rushing toward Millie with something in his mouth.
“Button! Stop!” Rhys yelled, terrified that he could have been wrong and the dog would hurt his little girl.
The dog came to a halt, his tail wagging, a candleholder in his mouth.
Millie giggled and ran toward Rhys. He caught her, picked her up, and approached the dog.
“Why does he have a candle holder in his mouth?” Rhys asked.
“We were playing fetch,” Millie answered, unperturbed.
Rhys reached Button, took the candleholder, and placed it on the table.
“What did I say about playing fetch inside the house?”
Millie scrunched up her nose in thought. “Not to do it?”
“Then why did you do it?”
“I thought we lost him and was so happy to get him back.” Millie looked at Rhys with her wide, innocent eyes.
He could never be angry or upset with her. No matter how many times she disobeyed him. Rhys scratched Button’s head, and the dog leaned into his touch.
“He is extremely dirty,” Rhys said, looking at the dog. “Let us ask Mrs. Ainsworth to bathe him before you play with him further. But no fetch. At least not inside.”
Millie wiggled out of Rhys’s hold and hugged the dog. “But we do not have a yard here. Where am I to play with him in London?”
Rhys scratched his chin in thought. “You can run with him in the corridor. But please, do not break anything. And we can go for a walk with him in the evening before the sun goes down.”
Millie clapped happily and bounced to the servants’ bell. She pulled it, and a moment later, Mrs. Ainsworth appeared. Together with a couple of footmen, she took Button for a wash.
Millie was about to run and join them, but Rhys stopped her.
