A Woman Made for Pleasure (29 page)

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Authors: Michele Sinclair

Tags: #Fiction, #General

BOOK: A Woman Made for Pleasure
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Jennelle crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Well, it all depends on what you mean by capture.”
Aimee turned to dress down her friend. “I got him to admit that he cared for me. And let me tell you, that
was
an accomplishment. Don’t worry. I will marry the man. I just have to be patient and wait for the right opportunity,” she promised and then turned back around. “But yours is now, Millie. And we are going to take it. Lady Castlereagh’s ball this Saturday night will go down in history! Have no doubt, by the night’s end my brother will be safely in your arms.”
At the mention of the word
safe
, Millie’s mind raced back to the conversation she overheard in the gardens. “Oh no!”
Jennelle nodded her head knowingly. “You’ve just remembered problem number three.”
Aimee frowned. “Will someone tell me what problem number three is?”
Jennelle leaned back against the bed frame and stared steadily at her petite friend’s face across the room. Millie was worried about something. At first, Jennelle thought Millie had concocted some wild adventure just to alleviate her boredom. But Millie’s face was an eerie white. Jennelle realized problem number three was much larger than she had originally imagined.
Chapter 13
“Madame Sasha, can you do it?”
“Of course, I can do it. The question is, do I want to do it.” Just then a door opened, and the lanky boy they had met during their first visit entered. “Ah, Stuart, finally. Please take Lady Wentworth and Lady Gent to the back room for tea.”
“For tea, mum?” the boy replied with his strong cockney accent. “In the back room? There’s not a spot for my scrawny arse to sit down in that space, with all your fribble layin’ ’bout.”
“Stuart, I did not ask for your opinion about my request.” Madame Sasha’s accent deepened with irritation.
Oblivious to the Russian woman’s ire, Stuart pressed. “Well, how’s about greasin’ me fist for me efforts?”
“There’ll be fourpence in it for you if you go now,” Madame Sasha said, and then turned her attention to the two ladies preparing to leave. “Beware, Aimee and Jennelle. This one here will turn someone up sweet if he thinks there is any money in it for him. I’ll tell you now, Aimee. Stuart was looking forward to such an opportunity as this. I believe he thinks you will ‘bleed freely.’”
Aimee looked down at the still growing boy. “He does, does he?”
Stuart shrugged his shoulders unrepentantly. “You three never look like you’re purse-pinched. You’re all fairly flushed in the pockets from what I can see.”
Aimee crossed her arms, trying to fake annoyance at his accurate estimation of her financial status. “Someone so clever at reading his fellow man surely is not as poor as he claims.”
Unperturbed, Stuart shot back, “Well, ain’t ye a downy one. Yeah, I’m not doomed for dun territory. I’s got me dibs.”
Jennelle laughed. “And yet a bloke like you could always use more.”
Suddenly, as if he could not help it, young Stuart smiled. “No wonder the madame has taken to ye three. She always did avoid those with more hair than wit. Come on. The back room is this-a-way. I hope you aren’t lookin’ for anything fancy. No one in this part of Town gives a tinker’s damn for the frippery of the nobles.”
Aimee and Jennelle followed the boy into the back room. It was cluttered and filled with miscellaneous material, threads, and odds and ends from Russia and other countries.
Aimee walked around and lightly touched the beautiful cloth. “How lovely.”
Stuart rolled his eyes at her reaction. “Fine then. After being warned, you’re obviously no longer easy to part with your blunt. So I’ll be off.”
In the front parlor, Madame Sasha was grilling Millie. “Well, if that is the whole story . . .”
“It is.”
“. . . then there is only one plan. Are you sure I cannot tell Cecilia?”
Millie firmly shook her head no. “Normally, I would have done so. But this involves both her late husband and her son. Besides, I only know enough to scare her. Blast it, I only know enough to scare me.”
Madame Sasha rose and went to an old cabinet. Millie watched her search for something in her pocket. She eventually pulled out a strange key. “Do you know how to shoot?”
Caught off guard by the odd question, Millie did not answer immediately. “Ah, um, shoot? Yes, I am actually a fair shot. We all are.”
“Good. Cecilia’s doing, no doubt,” the older woman concluded as she reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small silver pistol. “After all, it was how she caught the late Marquess of Chaselton.”
“I thought they met at a ball,” Millie murmured in puzzlement.
Sasha turned and waddled back to the chair across from Millie. “Well, yes, I guess you could say they met at a party, but it was Cecilia’s ability to shoot him that captured Lord Chaselton’s heart at that very ball.”
Millie was about to probe further when Sasha held out the beautifully etched pistol. “Here. Keep this with you at all times. It is loaded. And if you want to know more about Cecilia, I suggest you ask her.”
Millie took the small object from the wrinkled outstretched hand and held it steadily. “I hope this isn’t necessary.”
“It is, and you know it. If you did not think it to be so—and soon—you would have refused to carry it.”
Millie looked up at the sage woman. “I’ve never shot a person before.”
“Well, if you are lucky, you will not ever have to. But after last Saturday, the men who are after Lord Chaselton think you are involved. You need protection.”
“Thank you, Madame Sasha.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I still have to make something to help you secure the affections of your man. That egg-shell creation you wore was supposed to do that. In fact, I’m not convinced your man does not already consider you his intended. But if he doesn’t, he soon will.”
Millie could not help it and got up to hug the older woman. “Thank you. Thank you so very much.”
“Now go. Go and fetch the others and leave me. I have less than two days to design and produce a masterpiece.”
 
 
The day before the big event, Millie found herself getting dizzy watching Basil Eddington pace excitedly back and forth in the Hembree Grove drawing room. He didn’t even pause to address her. “I must say, meeting you has lightened my heart a great deal. I feared I was soon going to be punting on the River Tick, considering some of my decisions of late. Problems with the heart are dangerous to the pocketbook.” He suddenly paused and looked at Millie. “Do you honestly think this will work?”
“I believe so. I hope so,” Millie said, rising to put herself in his ever-moving path. Unfortunately, Basil pivoted and changed his pacing pattern. She sighed. “We still have a few more potential obstacles to avoid. The first is getting you approved, which will be more difficult than I expect you know.”
“Ah, you refer to the infamous patronesses of Almack’s,” Basil said mockingly.
“Yes, Lady Castlereagh has no doubt invited them. You would be wise to remove the contempt in your voice when you mention anything that is—in their opinion—above your station. It would take very little to have them turn you away.”
“But then why are we going through this act if my station makes their disapproval inevitable?”
“Very simple. They decide the social acceptability of anyone associated with Almack’s. And once it is known that a man, or woman, has passed their scrutiny, that person is automatically accepted into Society’s highest circles.”
Basil stopped his pacing and stared into the fire in the marble fireplace. “Do I have a chance?”
“Lady Chaselton thinks so. You are well mannered— usually. You’re fashionable without going so far as being a jack-a-dandy. I did notice Lady Sefton especially dislikes excessively elaborate clothes and foppish manners. Thankfully, you have neither.”
Basil turned and placed his hands behind his back. “But I work for a living.”
“
And
you make money. Believe me when I say that some ladies of the
ton
are much more knowledgeable regarding trade than their husbands. They have to be, living on their allowances. No, the patronesses are not easily swayed by social rank or money. I hate to say it, but it is mostly based on their mood that evening. Let us just hope none of them has a headache.”
With one hand, Basil began massaging his trendy sideburns. “I cannot believe it. I am placing all my hopes and dreams on whether or not some old harridan has a headache.”
Millie walked over to a small writing desk and opened a drawer. She pulled out a sealed piece of paper. “Well, remember, not only do you have to pass their assessment—so does your soon-to-be intended. Right now, my friends are visiting Miss Moreland and extending her an invitation. Yours is right here.” Millie handed him the sealed parchment. “You must thank Lady Chaselton for getting Lady Castlereagh to invite you both.”
Basil took the extended invitation and lightly tapped it on the palm of his hand. “May I ask you a question, my lady?”
“Of course, Mr. Eddington.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Millie smiled. “Are you asking how could I possibly benefit in helping you?”
“Exactly. I am a practical man. A woman, especially one of nobility and beauty, does not just allow someone—a no one, in fact—to pose as her suitor.”
Millie casually shrugged her shoulders and moved to sit down on the settee. “One does if she craves adventure. Something, anything to alleviate the boredom of Society’s rituals.”
Basil Eddington watched her graceful movements. He knew Millie possessed an adventurous streak, after their conversation at Green Park. But there was definitely something more. A sadness to her eyes. “I can help you, you know. If you would just confide in me.”
Millie looked at the gentleman across from her and thought over his words. “My reasons are not exactly honorable. Justifiable, but not what I consider praiseworthy.” Millie shifted uncomfortably. “I had an argument with a friend of mine and pride caused me to declare that I had an escort to this week’s ball. There is very little more to it than that.”
He eyed her uncertainly. “I see. Well, tomorrow then. I shall call for you at nine.”
“Excellent. Oh, and please wear knee breeches, a white cravat, and chapeau bras. Countess de Lieven has a particular distaste for trousers, especially at formal events.”
Basil walked to the salon doors and opened them. “Good day, Lady Aldon. I look forward to tomorrow night.”
Minutes later, Basil was confronted by the reason behind Millie’s broken heart. The Marquess of Chaselton.
Chase had been stewing all week, wondering about the man he had seen with Millie. And against his better judgment, Chase had decided to form a better estimation of the so-called gentleman. “Good sir, may I take a moment of your time?”
Basil stopped and turned around. “Certainly, your lordship. How can I be of service?”
Chase quickly evaluated the man. He was neither tall nor short, good-looking, and his clothes were of high quality and well fitted. The man was confident, and most likely sought by many women. He did not appear to be the sort idly sitting by waiting for a dowager to request a favor. “Were you here calling on Lady Jennelle Gent, by chance?”
Basil smiled easily. “No, my lord. My visit was with her friend, Lady Mildred Aldon.”
Chase fought his instincts to squelch the man’s good humor with a solid punch to the jaw. “I see by your demeanor that it went well.”
Unaware of the intensity rising in Chase’s eyes, Basil answered with enthusiasm. “Yes, exceedingly. Most encouraging that woman is. Most encouraging. If only more ladies had her demeanor and inclination to men of my position.”
Chase’s jaw clenched and he flexed his fists. “You remark on her demeanor. Do you think her calm and reserved?”
“Lady Millie? Heavens, no. She has a far more appealing disposition. She’s intelligent and has a willingness to seek and experience the unknown. She is . . . a risk taker.”
Chase’s eyes narrowed perceptively. The man had no idea how near death he was treading. “That is obvious. She is, after all, allowing you to escort her to Lady Castlereagh’s.”
Suddenly Basil realized just who the Marquess of Chaselton was. He had no idea why the marquess and Millie were apart when they so obviously wanted to be together, but Basil was confident that, with very little effort, he could repay Millie for all she was doing for him. He was going to enact her plan. Once for him, and once for her. He was going to make the marquess jealous. Basil pumped out his chest and broadened his smile. “I’m a very lucky man.”
Chase’s eyes were now like dark slits, spitting fire. “And why is that?”
“Simple. The most fine-looking lady in London has consented to my escorting her tomorrow night to one of the Season’s most influential balls. I realize you see her ladyship often, and your appreciation of her beauty has been dulled, but to others, no one compares. And to think we only just met.”
Chase wondered if the man was baiting him intentionally. If so, he was a fool who had very little time left in his short life. “Pardon my intrusion, sir. I am sure I am keeping you from more important matters.”
“Not a bother at all, my lord. Hope to see you again tomorrow evening. Good day,” Basil replied easily as he entered the hired hack.
Yes, one good deed deserves another
, Basil thought.
By tomorrow’s end, I shall have my Lily and Lady Millie shall have her marquess
.
 
 
Millie looked out the carriage window again, uncertain exactly why she was nervous. Maybe it was all the advice she received that afternoon. Madame Sasha had come over personally to fit her into her gown and oversee her hair.
“Now, petite one,” the modiste began, “the secret to capturing your man’s heart is to be coy and untouchable.”
“Yes, don’t even look in Charles’s direction,” Aimee had added.
Millie crossed her eyes. “Really? And how am I supposed to avoid looking at him without first determining where he is?”
“We will tell you,” Aimee had countered, completely unmoved by Millie’s logic.

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