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“Thank you, Wesley,” Helena said. “Come, let us go this way. I want to gather some boughs of pine and holly as well.” She leaned on Charles’s arm as they started across the slightly muddy ground in search of a decent tree.

Wesley unrolled his sleeves slowly, watching Millie as he did so. “You needn’t have fretted, Mildred.”

“There was no fretting. I was merely concerned I would have to tell your family you’d fallen to your death in pursuit of my mistletoe. That is not a conversation I wanted to have.”

“Naturally.” He propped his hands on his hips, his smile wide and full of artifice. “Shall I share a secret?”

“If you must.”

“I was never in any real danger. I had a sturdy grasp on the branches the entire time.”

Millie struggled to hide her shock. Oh, the absolute gall of the man! He was perfectly aware of how frightened she had been, the scoundrel, and he had preyed upon her feelings.

She pushed his coat against his chest and did not wait to see if he caught it before marching to the second clump of mistletoe and picking it up.

“Come now, Millie. Do not be angry.”

“That is not the word I would use to describe my feelings.” She was glad he had used her name correctly, but even that was hardly a salve against the true terror she had felt when she thought he was slipping from the tree.

“Oh? What word would you use?” he asked, sliding his arms into his coat and buttoning the front.

Terrified. To Wesley, however, she merely cocked an eyebrow. “Murderous. Tempted.”

His brows rose.

“Tempted to climb the tree and push you from the limbs myself.”

Wesley barked a laugh, the sound deep and warm, infiltrating Millie’s veins. She fought an answering smile, quickening her pace to reach her sister sooner.

“Allow me to carry your mistletoe,” he said, reaching for one of the clumps.

Millie let him take it. “Consider yourself indebted to me now.”

“Whatever for?”

“Trying to teach me a lesson when you have no authority to do so.”

Wesley gave her a deep, searching look she felt on the side of her face. “Very well. What do I owe?”

“I shall think on it.”

He glanced back at the enormous house behind them. “I can keep an eye out for your note-bearer.”

She did not know whether to take him seriously. “You think they might leave another? I had thought they would make themselves known to me, and that was merely an intriguing introduction.”

“I have no notion what they intend to do. If they do leave anything else behind, though, I can keep watch for them. My room is ideally situated for the task.”

Millie nodded thoughtfully. “Very well.”

They reached Helena and Charles, who were sawing at the smaller branches of a pine tree. The scent wafted through the air, sharp and fresh. Millie gathered the cut pieces and laid them in Wesley’s arms, doing her utmost to avoid his deep green searching eyes.

The entire time, she could feel them following her every move.

Millie had observed the eligible gentlemen at Bellthorne closely for the rest of the day—while they spent a duration of time in the music room, gathered for dinner, ate dinner, and then as they played cards in the drawing room until late. It had been fruitless. No man had paid any special attention to her. None of them had given any inclination they might be the author of her note.

She had contrived an introduction with her other dinner companion, Mr. Kendrick of Yorkshire. He was older than Millie by some years—at least a decade, if she was forced to guess—and had traveled alone to the party. There was no apparent potential for a match with him, but his conversation was pleasant, and when she was speaking to Mr. Kendrick, she could not also speak to Mr. Stroud. For that reason alone, she liked Mr. Kendrick very much.

Now the hour was late and Millie was dressed in her night clothes. She was tying a length of ribbon around the end of her long, dark plait when the door opened to admit Nell. Her golden hair was still styled for dinner, her white gown shimmering subtly in the candlelight. But she stripped her gloves off as she closed the door behind her and crossed to the bed, tossing them on the coverlet. “Now, do tell me what is so important to risk my fragile reputation coming to you at this time of night.”