Page 53 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Millie knew exactly what she meant but explaining the finer points of self-pleasure to Victoria St George during the fish course seemed unwise. ‘Oh, you know, things like your lace or taking long walks in the park. Needlepoint, if that thrills you.’ She smiled at Victoria and nudged her with her shoulder. ‘You have a household staff to keep the fires burning. Instead, why don’t you explore some of your interests?’
Victoria stared at her fork. ‘I do quite enjoy poetry. Franklin says it’s nothing but a bunch of drivel from’ – she glanced around and lowered her voice – ‘Molly men. But I find it quite invigorating, though I’d never admit as much to him.’
Nodding her head, Millie patted Victoria on her hand. ‘I quite agree. Poetry stirs the heart and feeds the soul. The next time Lord St George is conducting his “business”, I’d take your pin money to Hatchards and buy yourself some Lord Byron or, if you’re feeling daring, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.’
Victoria speared a pea and popped it into her mouth. Her chin lifted as she swallowed. ‘Excellent suggestion, Miss Millicent. I think I just might.’ She covered her mouth and giggled like a mischievous schoolgirl.
Oh dear. Not exactly a femme fatale, but the poor woman deserves some joy and excitement in her life, and poetry is a wonderful place to start.
Millie raised a cup of wine to her lips and sipped. Drake was looking at her again, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her swallow. She darted her tongue out to catch a drop of wine on her bottom lip and marvelled at how tightly Drake gripped his fork. The warmth in her chest migrated lower as delicious tingles erupted along her skin.
Sinfully sensuous man!
She wasn’t sure her nervous system could handle playing cat and mouse with her scarred, grumpy, delightfully skilled fiancé, but she was game to try.
‘I’ve made some enquiries in Bedford. The proprietor of the Ram’s Head informed me a private room was booked earlier this week for domestic interviews.’ Reynard spoke quietly to Drake as the fish course was removed and Cook’s famous roast beef was brought to them. He pulled Drake’s attention away from watching Millie’s delectable lips.
She was killing Drake in small degrees as she darted her pink tongue out to catch a ruby drop of wine. And she knew it, the saucy woman. Drake closed his eyes tight for a moment, willing his cock to behave and his attention to stay focused on Reynard.
‘Did he say who booked the room?’
Reynard laughed, his golden hair catching the flickering candlelight. ‘Yes. Apparently, a John Smith of London was asked to conduct interviews for his employer. And before you ask, the proprietor couldn’t give me a description of any use. “Average-looking bloke”, and that’s a direct quote.’
Drake shook his head. ‘He didn’t happen to mention anything about a weak chin, did he?’
‘No. And I asked. According to the man, “one chin’s the same as any other”.’
‘Wonderful. Shall we inform the prime minister we’ve cracked the case?’
Reynard sipped his wine. ‘Perhaps not.’
Drake shared a look of commiseration with Reynard before his eyes tripped down the table. St George sat next to Patricia. Franklin leaned closer, whispering something to the horrid woman whose canary-yellow evening dress nearly blinded Drake. She had some kind of feathers in her hair fluttering every time she tilted her head back to laugh. The awful tinkling sound made Drake cringe.
‘Well, regardless of the faulty intel, it’s bloody good to have you here. We’ll catch him. St George is sure to trip up. We just need to keep our wits about us.’ Drake cut into his excellently seasoned beef, his knife slicing through the meat like butter.
‘Perhaps I should spend some time with St George. Win his trust. See if he’s stupid enough to reveal anything.’
Drake raised a brow at his old friend. ‘Not a bad plan. You are a far more skilled actor than I. Five minutes alone with St George and I would be forced to kill one of us just to end the conversation.’
Reynard laughed, the strong column of his neck contracting. ‘Leave St George to me. I’m certain your delightful bride-to-be would appreciate more of your time and attention. This is your wedding party, after all.’
Drake shifted in his dinner jacket, his cravat nearly strangling him. ‘You know this is not a marriage of affection but rather one of necessity.’ Though his actions on the couch belied his words. He shut down the traitorous memories. ‘I gave up all hope of romance long ago when a particular woman reminded me that love is nothing more than a dream.’ He refused to look at Nora.
‘Abandoned dreams have the most power to haunt us.’ Reynard’s easy smile hardened a bit. ‘If life gives you a second chance to chase your dream, maybe catch it this time? Only a fool would pass up the opportunity. I’ve never known you to be a fool, Drake.’
Drake stilled. When he stopped believing in love, he also lost his fear. The two were strangely intertwined. The death of one caused the other’s demise. But Reynard’s words rebirthed fear in Drake once more.
He swallowed hard, the beef turning suddenly dry in his mouth. ‘What if the dream becomes a nightmare? And chasing it destroys me?’ His voice was harsh, his heart beating painfully.
Reynard didn’t answer right away. He took a sip of wine and leaned back in his chair, looking at Drake for a long moment. ‘You’ve survived your share of nightmares, Drake. We all have. And in doing so, it’s easy to believe that’s all we have left. The horror, the loss, the ache. But life moves forward, and dreams still visit us in the darkest hours of night. Are you brave enough to try again? Knowing you might fail and fail spectacularly? Is the risk worth the possible reward?’
It was a great question. Drake hated Reynard for asking it. Because he didn’t have a fucking clue.
His gaze flicked to Millie. She was smiling at Victoria, but she glanced over to him as she had been doing all night. They were drawn to each other like iron to a magnet.
She held the answer to Reynard’s question. It was the only thing Drake knew with certainty. And he would find out for himself if she was his dream or one more nightmare. Tonight.
Drake savoured a puff of his cheroot, then sipped from a glass of Scotland’s finest whiskey. The gentlemen were enjoying their time before they re-joined the women in the drawing room for an evening of cards and conversation.
