Page 28 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Penny nodded. ‘Yes, miss.’
‘Which is exactly why you must entice him to spill his secrets, Millicent. And then we’ll deliver justice. I swear it.’ Philippa nodded her head. ‘If you can think of a better way to get him to talk, then I’m all for it. But there are times we must do terrible things, Millicent. This is the price we pay to hold evildoers accountable for their crimes. Are you up to the task?’
Millie straightened her shoulders as Penny fastened the last few buttons. ‘I will not fail you, Philippa. But neither will I become someone I cannot respect.’
Philippa tapped her fingers against her hip. ‘Fine. Hannah refused to listen to me as well. I must be cursed to only train disobedient, stubborn women.’
‘Women who are just like you,’ Millie countered.
Philippa’s lips curled at the corners. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but Millie counted it as a win. ‘Are you ready? Shall we descend for dinner? I can’t wait to engage in a stimulating conversation with your stepmother.’
‘As much as I would love to see that, I don’t think it’s worth the effort, Philippa.’ The last thing she needed was for Philippa to instigate a war with Patricia. Her stepmother’s threat loomed heavy over Millie’s head. If Philippa upset Patricia, she knew the horrible woman would make good on spilling her secrets toThe Star. It was a risk Millie couldn’t take and the only reason she’d submitted to Patricia’s horrific behaviour. ‘Nothing you say will change Patricia. She is a monster who is best left alone.’
‘We’ll see, Millicent. You’ve done a wonderful job, Penny. Please extend my compliments to your mother on her salve.’ Philippa swept around and walked out the door before either Millie or Penny could respond.
Millie glanced at Penny and shrugged. ‘You’ve won yourself the favour of the Duchess of Dorsett, Penny. No easy feat.’
Penny looked a little flummoxed. ‘You better hurry, miss. You wouldn’t want to make her wait.’
Millie nodded, gave her new maid a smile, then turned and hurried after Philippa for what was sure to be a disastrous dinner.
Dinner was a complete disaster. Drake spent the evening torn between wanting to ravish Millicent, strangle Patricia, and uncover whatever secrets Lady Philippa Winterbourne was hiding in her wickedly sharp brain.
Lieutenant General Killian had told Drake his suspicions about Hannah being involved in investigating crimes months ago. It was an idea Drake believed to be preposterous. But then the woman had gone and killed Lord Cavendale with all the skill and confidence of a trained soldier. Drake believed Hannah’s protector, Lady Philippa, had something to do with it.
And now the duchess has taken Millicent under her wing.
But it defied reason to think his fiancée might be a part of such violent work. She was a gently bred lady, after all. Yet, it would answer a number of questions building about her confidence, courage, and physical skills.
A lady who rides like the Devil, is bold enough to challenge me, and has the physique of an avenging Valkyrie could very well be capable of a great many things. She bloody-well said as much in my study.
But that only lead him to recall what other things occurred between them in his study. Sinfully delicious things. With so many disturbing thoughts swirling in his mind, it left very littletime to appreciate the succulent venison, crisp roasted potatoes, sweet peas, and pheasant pie. Some of his favourites.
Millicent’s appetite didn’t seem bothered by their meeting. She filled her plate as each course was served. When Patricia sent her stepdaughter a scathing look, pointing at Millicent’s plate with her knife, Drake almost launched himself across the table and brained the woman with a gravy boat. But he refrained. Because he was a gentleman, damn it. And the gravy boat would be ruined. A terrible waste.
‘You haven’t touched your meal, Drake. I recall you always having a robust appetite when we were marching through Afghanistan.’ Reynard’s twinkling gaze didn’t miss much. It was one of the reasons he was such an asset to the prime minister’s small band of private investigators. And such a pain in the arse as a friend.
‘Too much rich food makes a man fat and lazy, Reynard. You might want to follow my example.’ Drake cut a slice of venison and dutifully chewed without tasting the well-seasoned meat.
‘I can’t help but notice how lovely your betrothed looks tonight.’ Reynard glanced down the table at Millicent, ignoring the growl Drake was unable to suppress. ‘Are you sure this is to be a marriage of convenience?’
Drake knew what Reynard was asking. Was Millicent available for an interested and discreet suitor?
‘It is going to be a marriage where my wife doesnothave an affair with one of my closest friends.’
Reynard raised a thick eyebrow. ‘Ah. I see. I thought you had sworn off all women.’
‘I have. But even if I don’t intend to fall for Millicent’s charms, I have no wish to be cuckolded. Especially not by you. Perhaps we should focus more on our investigation and less on my wife-to-be, Reynard. I’d hate to test your aim in a duel.’
Reynard chuckled. ‘Stand down, old man. I’m not about to poach a friend’s wife. Not without permission.’
‘You donothave mine.’ Drake grabbed a crystal goblet of wine, gulping a swallow and wishing for whiskey.
‘I see that. Consider the matter closed.’
‘Good.’ But Drake hated the possession bubbling under his skin. How had this woman gotten into his blood and made it boil? He was becoming obsessed. It was totally unacceptable. And it would stop. Immediately.
When Drake returned from the war to the news his fiancée – thinking him dead or close to it – had married his brother, he was devastated. When he realised his brother also hoped Drake had met a bloody end in the desert, he was enraged. Drake was seven years older than his brother. They had never been close, but he didn’t imagine his own flesh and blood would long for his untimely demise so the snivelling bastard could inherit.
