A Dash of Scandal (5 page)

“Good evening, ladies.” He bowed, then took both their hands in his and divided one kiss between the two ladies' hands. He would not fall for the trick of favoring one lady over the other. Long ago he had realized the gossips who circle among the ton see from the backs of their heads.

“Shame on you, Lord Dunraven,” Miss Bardwell said in a provocative tone with a flirtatious smile on her too thin lips. “You've been avoiding all the young ladies at the ball this evening. Why attend a party if you don't mean to dance with at least two of us?”

Miss Bardwell was not coy.

Chandler looked at the pale, blue-eyed beauty. She was fetching and intelligent enough, he supposed, but there was nothing about her that he found appealing enough to encourage her approach. He didn't even want to pay her an obligatory call.

He looked from Miss Bardwell to the prettier, but quieter, and more reserved Miss Donaldson and said, “May I assume you two young ladies would be willing to see to it that I'm not left a wallflower tonight?”

Miss Bardwell giggled and flapped her fan a couple of times. “You have only to ask.”

Chandler relented and said, “In that case, ladies, I should like a dance with each of you if you haven't promised them to other gentlemen.”

While he waited for them to produce their cards he turned and searched the room for
her.

She was nowhere in sight.

***

“It won't work, you know.”

Startled, Millicent jumped at the sound of the woman's voice coming from behind her. Someone had caught her again! Angels above, was there no safe place where a lady could make a few notes?

Millicent turned around from the darkened corner of the buffet room and faced a tall, buxom, dark-haired lady. Millicent's eyes were immediately drawn to a brownish-red disfiguring birthmark that covered the lower half of her left cheek and spilled just under the line of her jaw.

Not wanting to stare, Millicent quickly focused on the young lady's pretty green eyes and asked, “What makes you so sure it won't work?”

“Oh, I've tried it.”

Millicent wasn't sure exactly what this young lady thought she was doing, so she merely stated, “You have?”

“Oh, mercy, yes. Many times.” She sighed heavily. “I finally gave up and you should, too.”

“And why is that?”

The young lady walked closer to Millicent. Even though she was a large young woman, she moved with the regal grace of a lady of breeding.

“You can fill in names on all the blank spaces but sooner or later the other ladies in attendance will talk about why your dance card is always full, but you are never seen on the dance floor.”

Relief. She thought Millicent was filling in gentlemen's names on her dance card. Thank goodness. For a moment Millicent had thought the lady might actually have some idea of what she was writing.

“I'm sure you are right about that,” Millicent said. “Thank you for the warning.”

“I am perplexed about something, though,” the young lady continued as she looked down at Millicent's card.

“What is that?” Millicent asked as she slipped her dance card into her reticule.

“There should be no need for you to have to write down gentlemen's names. I've seen you on the dance floor a respectable number of times this evening. And you are much too pretty to end up a spinster like me. Why would you be adding names?”

Millicent relaxed and smiled. She liked the friendliness she saw in this young lady's eyes and didn't want to mislead her, but there was no way she could be completely honest with her or anyone else.

“That's most kind of you to say, but I guess we all want to be more sought after than we are. Human nature, you know.”

“I used to feel that way, too, but I don't anymore,” the young lady said with resignation. “After four years I realized that no man was going to marry me because of my birthmark. The few gentlemen who danced with me only asked me to please their mothers, who felt sorry for me, or to show other young ladies they were nice enough gentlemen to marry because they would dance with someone who looks like me.”

Millicent wanted to dispute what she said but knew she probably spoke the truth. She didn't understand it, but she believed beauty meant more to a man than loyalty and love.

“I'm sure you are shortchanging yourself unduly.”

“No, I'm not. But I've found other things that give me pleasure. I enjoy reading and writing poetry. And I'm very good with a needle.”

“Those are good things to do. Perhaps you didn't give the gentlemen in your life a chance to get to know you.”

“You are just being kind,” she said wistfully, “and that is very nice of you.” She smiled sweetly at Millicent. “Let's break the rules and pretend we've been properly introduced. Do you mind?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good. I'm Lynette Knightington, the youngest daughter of the Duke of Grembrooke.”

Millicent curtsied. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Lynette. I'm Millicent Blair.” Millicent didn't add that she was the daughter of an earl. It was Aunt Beatrice's desire that her true identity not be revealed. No one was to know her heritage, and considering what she was doing, that was the way Millicent wanted it, too.

“I've not seen you before.”

“Lord Heathecoute and his lady have graciously agreed to sponsor me for the Season,” Millicent said with ease. “And I'm the houseguest of Lady Beatrice.”

“How very generous of them. I'm not surprised, since they never had children of their own. Lady Beatrice is usually at all the parties, but I haven't seen her recently.”

“I'm afraid she had a rather bad fall and is laid up. She won't make any of the parties this Season.”

“That does sound serious.”

“She should be fine soon,” Millicent answered just the way her aunt had instructed.

“Please tell her I asked about her.”

“Yes, I will. I don't want to keep you from the party. I appreciate your excellent advice about the dance cards, Lady Lynette.”

“You would have figured it out, and please call me Lynette. I'd like us to be friends.”

“I think it would be lovely for us to be friends, and please call me Millicent.”

“I shall. I've been around so long that I know everyone. I can tell you which young men to accept a second dance from and which to avoid. I know all the young ladies, too, but I'll let you make up your own mind about them. Most of them don't even realize I'm around.”

“I will be sure to solicit you.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled and Millicent realized that when she was talking to Lady Lynette she didn't notice the birthmark on her face at all. She was an intelligent and cheerful young lady who appeared to be in need of a friend.

“I'll look forward to meeting you again. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Millicent watched Lady Lynette walk away and thought that she would enjoy being a friend to her, but she hesitated over getting too involved with anyone. She didn't think her aunt would approve. Besides, no one would ever be her friend again if it was discovered that she was gathering information on people to write about them in Lord Truefitt's column. According to Aunt Beatrice, everyone in the ton wanted to read the tittle-tattle, but no one wanted to be written about in them. And Millicent had no doubt that members of the ton would never associate with anyone who wrote them.

“There you are, Millicent, dear. We've been looking everywhere for you.”

Millicent turned at the sound of Lady Heathecoute's loud voice, but instead of seeing the large woman, she looked straight into the sparkling blue eyes of the handsome gentleman she'd talked to last night. Her breathing kicked up a notch and her throat went dry.

The handsome gentleman had sought her out.

“May I present Chandler Prestwick, the earl of Dunraven.”

“I do desire that we may be better strangers” or the Mad Ton Thief will not be found this Season. But not to worry, while we wait for the robber to be apprehended, we can expect wedding parties for Miss Watson-Wentworth and the Marquess of Gardendowns.

—Lord Truefitt,
Society's Daily Column

Millicent curtsied low, hoping to hide the shock in her eyes and slow the hammering of her heart at hearing his name. Angels above, Lord Dunraven was one of the Terrible Threesome her aunt had warned her about. Not only was he one of the most eligible men in Town, he was one of the most scandalous, if what her aunt said was true.

He was just the kind of rake who had ruined her mother's reputation. He certainly wasn't the kind of man that Millicent should lose her senses over. And to think she had dreamed about him last night and had wanted to meet him again.

She rose from her curtsy determined to find a way to deny his strong appeal. “How do you do, my lord,” she answered, her tone cool now that she knew who he was.

“Lord Dunraven, this is Miss Millicent Blair, the niece of a dear friend from the country. This is her first visit to Town.”

His shining blue gaze brushed lingeringly down her face before lighting on her eyes. Unexpected pleasure filled her, and excitement at his presence grew inside her despite her resolution not to be affected by him.

“Welcome to London, Miss Blair. I trust you are enjoying yourself.”

“Very much, thank you. I find London and its people fascinating.”

“That's good to hear. We do take great pride in our fair city. I'm sure Lady Heathecoute is seeing that you are attending the best parties and luncheons and taking calls from only the most respectable of gentlemen.”

Millicent glanced at her chaperone, who wore a delighted expression on her face. “You have no need to concern yourself on that account, sir. Her ladyship and the viscount have been dedicated to me.”

“No doubt you have many thank-you letters to write,” he said with a hint of a devilish grin attractively lifting one corner of his lips.

Millicent cleared her throat. He dared to bring that up, obviously in hopes of provoking her to blush. He was a rake of the highest order. The smile on his roguish lips and the sparkle in his intriguing eyes made it clear he was having a wonderful time at her expense. She should be outraged, but she was wasn't. She was pleasantly puzzled by his attention.

“Yes. I believe I'm up to date on all my notes, Lord Dunraven. I'm flattered by your interest, considering I'm a stranger to you.”

“Not that we've now been introduced. With Lady Heathecoute's permission, perhaps there's room on your dance card for me, if it's not filled with notes—I mean names.”

Millicent had to think quickly. The last thing she wanted was Lord Dunraven looking at her card. She didn't want anyone looking at it.

No wonder he was considered one of the Terrible Threesome. He was a scandalous earl. He was openly flirting with her in front of the viscountess at one moment and trying to get her into trouble the next—proof that the earl of Dunraven was not a man she could afford to have anything to do with—no matter how utterly charming he was.

“How very kind of you to offer, my lord, but I'm afraid I can't accept any more invitations tonight. I believe her ladyship is eager for us to go on to the next party she has planned for us this evening.”

“Balderdash, Millicent, dear,” Lady Heathecoute cooed as softly as was possible given her strong voice. “We'll forego the next party if we must. Have a dance with the earl. That's what the Season is for, isn't it? Dancing the night away. In fact, I believe the next one is about to start. Is this dance taken, dear? Let me see. Where is your card?”

Millicent clutched her reticule tighter and smiled sweetly at her ladyship. “Ah—no. There's no need to look. I'm sure this dance is open.”

“Then it's settled, if you are free, my lord?” the viscountess said.

“Indeed, I am.” He extended his arm for Millicent. “May I have this dance?”

Not trusting herself to speak, there was nothing for her to do but graciously agree with a slight nod. She lightly placed her hand on the crook of his arm and walked with him to the dance floor.

“It's impolite to decline a dance with an earl,” he said.

Millicent turned to look at him and saw by the glint in his eyes and the half grin on his lips that he was teasing her, not reprimanding her for ill manners.

She lifted her chin a notch. “Not when the earl's flagrant reputation precedes him.”

“So you've been in London long enough to hear all the tittle-tattle.”

“Surely not all there is, but enough to make me wary of you and a few others. Besides what I've heard about you, I have firsthand knowledge of your abilities.”

“My abilities, Miss Blair?” he questioned. “I'm not certain which abilities you are referring to.”

“Your roguish ones, sir.”

He smiled again, one that was full of genuine amusement. It should have irritated Millicent immensely that he found such pleasure in her discomfort, but for reasons unknown to her his attitude didn't bother her.

But she wasn't prepared to let him know that. “You were positively forward last night when you happened upon me in that darkened hallway.”

“Forward? Did you think so?”

“Certainly.”

“I thought I behaved like a perfect gentleman.”

They walked by a group of people and Millicent noticed that every one of them watched her as they passed. Her aunt would not like it that she had this kind of attention. Oh, how had she caught the eye of one of the Terrible Threesome? And what was she going to do about it?

She drew in her breath with a soft gasp and asked, “Perfect?”

“Yes.”

“A gentleman?”

“Yes.”

“What rubbish you speak, sir. It was unquestionably bold of you to have brushed my hand when you gave me your pencil last evening. A true gentleman would not have allowed that to happen.”

He turned to her, a well-pleased expression on his face. “I didn't think you noticed.”

“How could I not? It was so… unexpected,” she said, remembering the delightful tingle that jolted through her at his brief touch.

Lord Dunraven nodded to a beautiful woman and a gentleman dressed in a military uniform before answering her by saying, “And we were both wearing gloves. You are obviously a very sensitive woman, Miss Blair. I shall remember that.”

Millicent could have bitten her tongue out for even bringing up the incident. It was clear she would not get the upper hand with this man. Why had she mentioned that touch? Because she hadn't been able to forget about it. The contact was no more than a butterfly's brush, but she had felt it all the way down to her toes. He was right, she was sensitive to everything about him. His mere presence had her senses on alert.

“I said nothing because I was sure you had touched me by mistake, and I didn't want to alarm you.”

“It would take a great deal more than a brush of hands with a beautiful woman to alarm me, I assure you. How thoughtful of you to think of my feelings, but no, Miss Blair, I caressed your hand by design not mistake.”

He smiled that knowing smile as they took their places on the crowded dance floor and waited for the music to begin.

“You are no gentleman, sir.”

“Sometimes. I thought you would pretend forever that I hadn't touched you. You surprise me, Miss Blair, and I like surprises.”

“You wear your title of rake well, my lord. Not only did you stroke my hand, but you deigned to blow me a kiss. It was most inappropriate for you to do so.”

“I thought it dashing.”

“Dashing? I believe mischievous is the word you meant to say, for surely it was.”

He laughed softly, attractively. Once again Millicent felt a strange fluttering sensation in her stomach. As much as she hated to admit it, there was something remarkably appealing about him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself be truly angry with him. Oh, yes, knowing how she responded to his charm and his gentle touch, she believed he was a scoundrel of the highest order.

“You are not only a lady of great beauty, Miss Blair, you are a lady of delightfully quick wit. I haven't been called impish in years. I'm impressed.”

“It's not my desire to please you or to entertain you, my lord. I only want to be done with you.”

He laughed softly. “Tell me, would you believe me if I told you that most of whatever you may have heard about me is not true?”

“I think that would make your integrity as suspect as your flattery.”

The music started and the dance began. Millicent didn't have time to think. She could only fall into his rhythm and step and let him lead her through the dance steps. When his hand touched hers, the tingles skittered up her back as if she weren't wearing gloves at all.

He picked up the conversation where they had left off and said in a low seductive voice, “In that case, Miss Blair, I won't bother to deny a single word you have heard about me, and you can assume it is all true. How's that?”

“Perfect,” Millicent answered as she yielded to his expert leading in the dance.

“I can see I've made you happy.”

“I would have been happier had you not sought an introduction. Something tells me you somehow knew I would be free to accept your invitation of this dance.”

“How could I possibly know that? I would have to be a wizard.”

“Perhaps you are. I've heard you have great power over young ladies and that you can make them endanger their reputations and lose their heads over you.”

“The gossips give me more credit than I deserve, Miss Blair. I simply wanted to meet you and dance with you. I had no idea what dances you had free.”

Millicent felt her hand tighten in his, and she was certain he put emphasis on the word
what.
He couldn't possibly know what she was doing, could he?

“I've not seen your card. You could have already promised this dance to another.”

“Yes, of course.”

If Millicent wasn't careful, her guilty conscience was going to make her say the wrong thing and make him suspicious of her. She didn't need anyone asking her too many questions.

“So you are only in London for the Season?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Perhaps a little longer, I can't be sure right now.”

“And where do you call home?” he asked as the tips of his fingers once again stroked inside her hand.

“Where my mother lives,” she answered and easily changed the subject to say, “I haven't met either of your friends, Lord Chatwin and Lord Dugdale.”

“Does that mean you want to meet them?”

“Certainly not. I was merely making conversation.”

“Good. I would think you'd react to Fines and Andrew much the same way you have to me.”

“No doubt.”

“You have been filled in on the gossip about all three of us, I see.”

“It didn't take much. I think the three of you must try to do things that make people want to talk about you and make the scandal sheets want to write about you.”

“Perhaps we have. What would you say if I told you that we were thinking of mending our ways?”

“Probably that it's too late to make a difference. The damage has been done.”

Millicent was close to being in a dither. The lazy stroll his fingers made on her hand was making her crazy with need to return the sensuous touch. She was supposed to be too sensible to fall for his persuasive machinations, but she was finding herself quite susceptible to him.

She had to do something to break the spell he'd cast on her. No matter how special his touch made her feel, she had to remember that with this man she was just another young lady in his arms and therefore he felt free to trifle with her. He was a rogue's rogue.

“Do you caress the hands of every lady you dance with?” she asked.

His blue eyes darkened. “With all that you've heard about me, I'm surprised you have to ask.”

“I wanted to know if you would tell the truth or fill my head with the silly notion that I'm the first.”

“You are far too clever for me to tell you anything silly.”

Another thing to like about him. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“Now, would you please stop? I find your brashness very disconcerting.”
But pleasing.

“I thought I was being quite restrained, when what I really want to do is pull you into my arms and kiss you.”

A stunned gasp rushed past her lips. “You forget yourself, sir.”

“No, but there are times like these when I'd very much like to.”

He guided her into a twirl under his arm and brought her to face him again without missing a step. There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes, though he was discreet enough not to show it in his polite smile.

“You have that affect on me, Miss Blair. But I will change the subject so as not to further offend your sensibilities. So where does your mother reside?”

Millicent took a deep breath before saying, “In the country. So tell me, if what is written about you is not true, what is?”

“That's a rather broad question for a lady who only gives the narrowest of answers.”

Millicent stared directly into his intriguing blue eyes, sparkling with immense pleasure. For the first time since beginning their dance, she couldn't help giving him a genuine smile as she said, “Surely a lady is not supposed to tell everything during a first dance, my lord.”

“Careful, Miss Blair, you are about to ruin your reputation.”

Undaunted, she asked, “How so?”

“I believe that remark was the first thing you have said to me that could be considered flirtatious.”

“Then I must be more careful. Flirting with you is the furthest thing from my mind.”