Millie had felt the sexual pull between them since Chase had moved to her side, but not until he whispered those three words did she realize he had also been suffering. She swallowed and tried to direct the conversation to something neutral and safe. “I wish I did enjoy these parties and small, meaningless conversations—for your mother’s sake as well as my father’s. They so want us to be a success this Season.”
“Trust me, you are.” Knowing key members of Society had been observing the male vultures circle round Millie, Jennelle, and his sister, Chase was positive that, after tonight, the
ton
would spread the word about London’s three newest diamonds of the first water. Selena’s continual snide comments about Jennelle and Millie were all the proof he needed that the Daring Three were encroaching upon what Miss Hall considered her private territory.
Millie unconsciously studied Chase’s square jaw. Her lips ached for his touch and longed to be crushed beneath his own. Her growing desire for him was becoming near impossible to resist.
Millie took a firm grip on her nerves. “Appears that you, too, are a success. Miss Hall cannot seem to find any place to put her hands except on you. How in the world is she coping with your absence?”
Trapped by his unpleasant decision, Chase could not deny Millie’s observations. He had his own reasons for encouraging the clingy woman, and they were not ones he wished to explain. He longed for a smooth, simple defense justifying his actions, something that would pacify Millie. But in her current mood that idea was implausible—at least with people watching. “She flocks to my title, not to me.”
Not remotely mollified, Millie retorted, “There is more to you than your title, and trust me—she knows it.”
Chase couldn’t help himself and smiled. The sound of jealousy had never before been even remotely appealing, but now—coming from Millie—it was like music. He wanted to hear more. “Care to expound?”
Realizing she had been caught by her own admission, Millie tried to make light of the remark. “You are an extremely handsome man, Charlie. Unfortunately, I have known you too long to be deceived by your good looks. You are much too perverse and tall to be truly attractive.”
“Tall?”
“Indeed. You try to frighten and pressure one with your height. You enjoy your ability to hover when you argue a point.” Her violet eyes reflected the light from the chandeliers, making them more difficult to read. “Do you not notice how even now I must crane my head to speak with you?”
Her attempt at levity backfired. Instead of humor, hot, intense, sexual desire blazed in his eyes. Chase reached out to catch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her still so that she could not break from his dangerously compelling eyes. “It does not seem to work with you.”
Her pulse raced as Millie felt the electricity of his touch. “That is because you cannot intimidate me. You said you know me; well, I know you,” she barely whispered.
Chase’s heart was pounding so loudly he thought the whole room could hear. Touching her soft skin seemed to prevent his ability to breathe. He let go and asked, “And who am I, precisely?”
He was no longer holding her, but she could not tear her eyes from his piercing gaze. “Somebody haunted, like me. I just choose to react differently to my ghosts.”
Her words pierced him. Gone was Millie’s false confidence, her flippancy, her jealousy. Before him stood his soul mate, and suddenly he needed to be alone with her.
But just as he was going to guide her away from the ever-increasing mass of attendees, Neville Marston parked himself at Millie’s elbow.
“Excuse me, Lady Aldon. May I ask you for a turn on the floor?” His invitation was spoken loud enough to ensure several people overheard.
Millie had no desire to dance with Marston. Yet staying with Chase also made her feel uneasy. Their conversation had resurrected memories of her childhood promises, including one particular one.
Realizing Millie had to accept or risk generating tomorrow’s gossip, Chase didn’t interfere as he watched Marston guide her away from his side. The
haut ton
loved an original, but they also loved to find any opportunity to find fault with women who attracted too many men. Turning down Marston, regardless of the reason, would have made Millie a target for the
ton’s
oftentimes temperamental jealousy.
Chase felt his insides boil as he watched Marston smoothly waltz across the dance floor, guiding Millie, holding her hand, fondling her waist. Undoubtedly the man had been waiting for the one dance that allowed him constant contact with a partner, before making his request. Watching the two swirl around, gliding forward and backward to the steady rhythm, Chase realized he was not alone watching the couple.
Marston was undeniably good-looking, and Millie was a petite and graceful beauty. The pair of them was striking and attracted the notice of many a gossip-maker in the room. Despite Millie’s flattery, Chase knew he was not what Society defined as handsome. Unlike Marston’s golden wavy locks, his hair was dark, thick, and straight. Rather than trying to force it into the shorter, fashionable styles, he chose to let it grow long, pulling it back into a loose ponytail.
Long ago, Chase had accepted the fact that his naturally stoic expression and dark features held no attraction for the fairer sex. Only his money appealed to beautiful women such as Selena. It was that way with every female, except Millie. Millie knew everything about him—his personality, his impassive nature, his thoughts on reckless adventure, his preference for rules. But when she was in his arms, he knew Millie wanted to be nowhere else. And it was not because of his title or his money.
Mildred Aldon was his destiny. His alone.
Chase’s hawklike features glowered as he watched Lord Marston become more and more insistent on handling Millie. Marston’s embrace smacked of possessiveness. Chase’s scowl intensified. Only Millie’s reputation kept him from pounding the triumphant look off the vile man’s face.
“Your keeper seems to take his role seriously,” Marston remarked, observing Chase’s unswerving glare.
Millie smiled casually, trying to downplay Chase’s fierce expression. “He is protective of all three of us—Aimee, Jennelle, and me.”
Marston leaned down and whispered into her ear. “I can be protective, too. You are by far the most sensational woman here this evening. Your dress is mesmerizing. I could stare at you all night.”
And you have been
, thought Millie as she twisted again. She was constantly adjusting her position so his hands stayed where they belonged.
Marston pulled her into another long twirl, exaggerating the dance’s spins and turns. It was another piece of evidence of his need to control and push people around. Millie suspected he was much more dangerous than she first realized.
“Seems you have been reprieved.”
Feeling Marston’s hot breath against her cheek, Millie fought her instinct to flinch. “I am afraid I do not understand your meaning.”
“Your protector. It appears there is another who needs his attention more than you.”
Millie swiveled toward Chase’s last location just in time to see him disappear out of the room with Selena Hall.
Marston smiled to himself. Chaselton’s timing could not have been better. Realizing Millie was focused on the disappearing couple, Marston cleverly spun her into a twirl and held her tightly to him as the dance ended, forcing her to partner with him for the following quadrille.
Only after the music had started did Millie realize her folly. Too upset to handle Marston on her own, Millie quickly scanned the room for either Aimee or Jennelle. She spotted them, made the signal, and sent secret looks of gratitude after they replied with a quick nod of their heads. At the dance’s end, they swiftly came over and extricated her from Marston’s grasp. Fortunately he seemed unperturbed by their interference.
As the Three walked away, Jennelle commented, “Lord Marston seems very interested in you, Millie. The other night at cards, and now tonight. I believe he would have danced another with you if he thought you would agree.”
Millie frowned as Jennelle’s words sank in. “Yes, well, he can remain interested, but from a distance.”
Aimee looked at her friend, hearing the seriousness behind Millie’s words. Jennelle, though, was openly puzzled. “He appears to be well dressed and quite witty. Definitely elegant. There are much worse with whom you could be forced to spend time.”
Millie stopped, turned, and gripped Jennelle’s hand. “He is elegant in appearance only, I assure you. Believe me when I say he is dangerous.”
Jennelle was not convinced. “Are you sure you are not looking for something?”
“What would I be looking for?”
Jennelle gave her a quizzical look. “Why, excitement, of course. I know it has been difficult for you since our arrival in London. Believe me, both Aimee and I agree Society can be fairly confining, but let us not be hasty and label what is probably a very decent man as ‘dangerous’ just to pacify our whims.”
Millie’s voice was full of warning when she spoke. “Jennelle, listen to me when I say this. He is dangerous. You have never spoken with him. You have never danced with him. You have never been cornered in his evil wordplay. The man is no gentleman.”
Aimee coughed. “I did. Or at least I spoke with him at Lady Bassel’s,” Aimee explained, sipping her punch and watching Marston.
Eyes wide with surprise at the news, Jennelle prompted, “And?”
“And, well, Jennelle—Millie is right. Lord Marston is . . . there is something . . . false about him. He makes me nervous.”
Millie nodded, relieved to find an ally in her assessment. “We should stay away from him.”
Jennelle’s brows creased with concern. “That may be difficult. He is at all the events we attend, and he is definitely interested in you, Millie.”
Millie bit her bottom lip. “Hmm, but there is something very odd about his interest. It is as if he has a plan and I am part of it,” she murmured aloud as she covertly watched Marston meet with the gentleman Chase had cornered earlier. The plump man was the nervous sort with sweaty palms he continually wiped on his clothes when he thought no one was looking. As she watched through lowered eyelashes, Millie could see the gentleman’s anxiety rise as Marston’s interrogation grew more animated.
Millie was not alone in her observations. Chase had also been watching from a discreet distance. And knowing Millie’s innate talent for noticing the obscure, he had been watching her as well. And what he saw sent bolts of fear coursing through him. For what Millie had witnessed was enough to get her killed.
An hour after they arrived home, Millie tiptoed into Aimee’s room and paused just inside the doorway. “Aimee?”
“Good grief, Millie,” came a muffled moan from the bed across the room. “I realize you are something of a night owl, but I, however, am not,” added the semiconscious girl.
Millie grinned. “Aha, you speak and therefore you are awake. Stay that way while I go fetch Jennelle.”
Once all three of them were settled on Aimee’s bed, Millie began. “I am fairly certain Lord Marston is planning something, and not for the good. I think we should discover the exact nature of his intentions.”
Jennelle moaned and fell back against the large goose-down pillows. “Millie, not that again.”
Not to be deterred, Millie continued. “Jennelle, the fop specifically set out to charm Aimee and then myself. I assure you, even the most ardent of admirers would be put off by my coldness by now. Are you not the least bit curious as to why he is so keen on our small party?”
Millie had promised Chase she wouldn’t tell anyone—even her best friends—about her observations. But lying in her bed earlier, she could not ignore the fact that both Chase and Marston had had confidential meetings with a seriously nervous man. If she could determine Marston’s plan, she could relay the information to Chase. Now she just needed to persuade her friends to help her with this bizarre pursuit without breaking her promise.
“I thought you said Lord Marston was dangerous?” Aimee inquired, obviously puzzled by Millie’s quest.
Leaning back on the bedpost, Millie nodded. “He is. He is also controlling, calculating, and scheming.”
Jennelle rolled over and crossed her arms behind her head. “Are you completely sure of your opinion, Millie? Could it not be that you are looking for any means of adventure? Is this not a manifestation of your constant need for excitement and danger?”
Millie’s jaw clenched defensively. “I agree I have an inner compulsion toward such things, Jennelle. But this is not one of those times.”
Jennelle shrugged, caving in to a large yawn. “I think he just genuinely likes you. I mean, he may be somewhat aggressive, but he appears to be quite charming.”
“From a distance, I assure you. I cannot explain the reasons to persuade you, Jennelle, but I can promise you he is not interested in me, but something related to me. I earnestly believe this man is up to something, and it is important we find out what it is.”