Page 2
“No, I am…I will be well.” Helena inhaled. “Travel has never agreed with me; you know that.”
“But this appears—”
“It is only worse because of the baby. I’m certain a steady floor will right me soon enough.” Her blue eyes leveled on Millie. “I am afraid you will not have enough supervision with Nell alone. If I ask Charles, surely he will leave me for the evening.”
“Nell’s brother is here,” Millie said quickly, before Helena could require her to remain in her room all evening. She knew Charles would not be amenable to leaving Helena while she looked so pallid. The house party was only three weeks. She could not waste precious time. “Nothing nefarious could possibly occur under his eye.”
“True. Wesley is unfailingly responsible.”
“Besides, there is sure to be a large crowd. Cousin Oliver is meant to come, too. I am not being thrown into a den of wolves, Helena. This is a respectable party.”
Helena nodded. “Find Oliver, Mill. Stick to his side.”
“Do not worry about me. Worry about feeling better.” Millie put her arm around her sister to lead her back into her chamber. She did not want to verbally agree when she had no plans of doing anything of the sort.
Betty removed Millie’s traveling dress to be laundered and pulled out slippers for the house with deep burgundy embroidery that matched her dinner gown. It was one of the most striking gowns she possessed, fitting snug in the bodice, the sleeves short and capping her shoulders with small puffs. It showed off her figure in such a way that she was sure to make a splash. She had done away with the pale colors of youth. This would signal maturity, that she was prepared to become a wife.
“Have you learned where Nell’s room is located?” Millie asked her maid as she finished securing her slippers. “I would like to see her before dinner.”
“Yes.” Betty leaned back, brushing a hair back into her white cap. “She’s directly across the corridor.”
“So close? How wonderful.” Millie patted the sides of her dark hair, appreciating the simple, elegant coiffure. Her cheeks were rosy from being planted beside a fire for the last quarter-hour and she looked delicately flushed. The image was precisely what she wanted to portray. “Wish me luck, Betty.”
“I’m not sure you need it, miss.”
Millie’s grin was wide and unrestrained. “You flatter me. I hope you find companionable people downstairs. We’re meant to stay here for three weeks, so I do hope no one is insufferable.”
“Thus far, Mrs. Wintle has been welcoming.”
“I felt the same about the housekeeper. And the rest of the staff?”
Betty held Millie’s glove open as she slid her hand into it. “We shall see.”
“You’ve never struggled to make friends.”
Betty shook her head. “Think less of me, Miss Millie. I know you have plans of your own this week. I can sense how eager you are.”
“Am I so obvious?” Millie pulled up her gloves and glanced in the mirror to check for anything out of place.
“To me, you are.”
“With any luck, I will be more romantic and mysterious to the gentlemen downstairs.” Millie headed for the door, eager to see her friend. “I will give you all the details tonight, Betty.”
The corridor was empty when she let herself from the bedchamber and approached the door directly across the way. Curling her hand into a fist, she knocked.
A muffled voice sounded inside, low and garbled. Goodness, was Nell ill too? Every important woman in Millie’s life was being affected. She was beginning to wonder if she was cursed.
“You don’t sound well,” Millie said, pushing the door open and stepping into the room. She swung it closed behind her and froze, the snap of the door jarring her deeply. Standing across from her, a razor to his cheek in front of a looking glass, was Wesley Prescott.
And he was not wearing a shirt.
His deep green eyes found her within the reflection of the mirror, but not before witnessing her roving attention. How could she do anything but take in the breadth of his shoulders and the muscles in his back moving with the motion of his arms as they continued their task? His trousers were tucked neatly over stockinged feet, but Millie could not seem to look at anything but the most handsome back she’d ever seen.
It was not the first time she had seen this man without a shirt, but it was the first time she had seen his bare torso since he had become a man. Her last recollection of him swimming in the pond between their houses was when he was a lad of fourteen.
Wesley did not look anything like that scrawny boy anymore. He had filled out with lean muscle and had grown at least six inches. In fact, she was having trouble recalling why she stood there at all.
“Mildred Hollis,” he said, gaze glued to her as he swiped the razor down his jaw and swirled it in the water to remove the soap.
