Page 69 of The Wallflower Manifesto
“We were assisting in ensuring the safety of Miss Waters,” she said, choosing each word carefully.
Lady Bentley paused, lifting her glass of water to swallow delicately. “Indeed? I confess I have felt much concern for that young woman, and not entirely because of her choice to run off.”
“Your concern was well-placed,” Millie replied evenly.
Lady Bentley looked around at her staff, suddenly aware of the ears in the room. “You may leave us,” she said to them, “and have a care. We were not the only ones threatened by that man.”
They dispersed, and Millie watched them go with mixed feelings.
“They will not say anything,” Lady Bentley said firmly, as though she could hear Millie’s discomfort. “Who would, after what Mr. Waters did here last week? David’s jaw is still an awful palette.”
“Has there been any gossip about him since yesterday?” Millie asked, grimacing when Lady Bentley shook her head.
“No, and I went to a very gossipy dinner last night.”
“He beat a maid,” Millie told her, lowering her voice and leaning in. “He fractured her cheekbone. In public, on the landing of a boarding house. And it’s not even worthy of gossip?!”
Lady Bentley frowned. “Whose maid was she?”
“No one’s,” Millie answered, aghast. “Why?”
“Because that is the only reason anyone in thetonwould care,” Lady Bentley responded, apology for her ilk writ over her pretty face. “She helped that girl, didn’t she? The maid?”
Millie nodded, snatching up her own bread roll and rending it in half with her fingernails. “Yes.”
“And she’s safe now?” Lady Bentley pressed quietly.
“Yes,” Millie said again, and ate some of the bread.
They were quiet for a moment, focused on their bowls of perfectly hot and savory soup, cooked and served and garnished without a single finger of request from either of them.
“That is good,” Lady Bentley finally said, looking ashamed of something she had no part in at all.
Her shame made it so much worse somehow.
“We’re going to get them to Dover,” Millie heard herself saying without even considering it, without ever asking Dot and Ember and the others if she could share this with, of all people, a noble. “And from there to the Continent. He will never touch her again.”
“We? You and Mrs. Cain?” Lady Bentley asked, a spark of something like hope in her eyes. “Truly?”
“Not alone,” Millie said with a flick of her wrist. “Of course we couldn’t alone; we actually asked …” She trailed off, realization dawning as she raised her eyes to meet the other woman’s. “We asked Freddy to help.”
“Freddy?” Lady Bentley repeated, as though she’d never heard her own son’s name before. “My Freddy?”
“He didn’t hesitate for even a moment,” Millie said, awed by the truth of it even though she’d witnessed it herself, a kind of strange heat building in her chest as she watched Lady Bentley react to this. “He rode in like a hero on horseback, willing to do anything for this perfect stranger of a girl and her friend, a servant. He is going to take them to Dover himself.”
Her eyes glittered. Tears?
“He’s the only person we could think of who could do it,” Millie offered as an explanation. “But you would have been proud. You should be proud.”
“I am,” she replied softly, and choked. “I always have been, you know?”
She hesitated, giving a self-conscious little titter as she used her cloth napkin to dab under her eyes. “Millicent,” she said, blinking and looking up at the ceiling, willing herself to get a hold on her emotions. “Can I help? Is there anything I can do?”
“Oh!” said Millie, stirring her soup. “There might be. I will inquire. I was … erm, asleep … for much of the logistical planning last night. It was a very long day.”
“I can imagine it was,” Lady Bentley agreed, sounding a little exhausted just from hearing about it secondhand.
They ate, accompanied by nothing but the tinkle of spoon on bowl and the rustle of the tablecloth, both absorbed in their own thoughts until the soup was gone and the bread reduced to crumbs.
