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Chapter Five
THE ENTICING TEMPTRESS sitting beside him at the table batted her long lashes and gave him a demure smile. She had shiny crimson curls, and as Alastair had never bedded a redhead before, he was intrigued. Her name was Miss Annabelle Hollingsworth.
But a commotion at the other end of the table drew his attention. He glimpsed a dark-haired woman with gravy down the front of her gown. Her full form looked familiar, as did her gown. At her side was the Viscount Devon, of whom he was not fond, but she resisted the man’s aid and hurried from him, which suggested she had not come in his company. She reached down to retrieve a napkin, which she oddly held to her face instead of using it to wipe her dress.
Her right hand tugged at her pearls as she spoke to Lord Devon…
It could not be.
Alastair rose to his feet to take a better look, but she had hurried away. He turned to Marguerite. “Who was that?”
“A new guest,” Madame replied. “She arrived here but a few hours ago. You will have the chance to meet her after dinner when we have the pairing.”
But an odd ache shot through his legs. He had the sensation whenever a situation was not right. He would have to assure himself that the woman was not whom he thought. He excused himself and proceeded after the woman. In the corridor, however, he saw no signs of her. Likely, she had returned to her chambers to cleanse her gown. He would have to make further inquiries of Marguerite.
Then he noticed the spots of gravy upon the floor. Following the trail, he found it stopped at the closed doors of a parlor. He heard a rustle from inside and opened the doors. Scanning the room, he saw no one, but he was certain he had heard movement. The windows were closed, so the sound had come from inside the room.
He almost dared not utter the name, for fear that doing so might bring about the reality he dreaded. Nevertheless, he tried it.
“Millie.”
Silence.
Hoping he was wrong but determined not to rest till he had set his concerns at ease, he walked about the room. He stepped around a sofa and discovered a female form, curled like a mouse upon the floor, hiding behind the furniture, her derriere propped high up in the air.
“Millie!”
She started and scrambled around. She rose slowly, keeping her gaze averted.
“What the devil do you do here?” he demanded, astounded.
“I—I was looking for my, er—”
“Not here in the room. Here. The château.”
“Oh, well…” She had an inspiration and met his gaze. “What do you do here?”
“I will have none of your impudence, my girl. Why are you here?”
Her chin tilted up as she attempted as much dignity as she could while covered in gravy. “That is no affair of yours.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “How is it not my affair?”
“Because it is not! And since when do you concern yourself with others?”
A muscle rippled along his jaw. He supposed it did not matter what her answer might be. He would have to see to her departure. The Château Follet was no place for her. He had made a promise to his aunt, and though he had thought he might fulfill her wish by taking a mild interest in one of his young nephews, she would be devastated if he did not rescue his cousin, whom he knew Katherine to be partial to.
“How did you come here?” he asked. “Are you here with someone?”
“I am here alone,” she said. “Now if you would kindly step aside, I should like to return to my chambers and divest myself of this gravy.”
But he blocked her path. “That does not suffice. You say you are here alone, but how did you arrive?”
“By horse and carriage.”
He was torn between appreciating her ready retort and a desire to wring her neck. This was not the Millie he knew. Why was she behaving with such insolence?
He narrowed his eyes. “Your parents would not permit their only daughter to travel alone. Who brought you here?”
