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“It has never been my favorite reading material, if I am to be completely honest.”
“You may always be completely honest.”
Lady Dalmeer stood to signal the end of dinner and lead the women to the drawing room. Millie bade Mr. Stroud a good evening—hoping that was the last she would be forced to speak to him tonight—then to Mr. Kendrick before she slipped from the room.
The women spilled into the drawing room, and as Millie made her way toward Nell, she noticed Miss Stroud watching her with a pucker on her forehead. If the woman was not in support of a union between Millie and her brother, she was certainly not hiding it on her face.
It was almost enough of a frown to tempt Millie into approaching Miss Stroud and informing her she had nothing to worry about. Almost…but not quite. Instead, Millie ignored the sour-faced blonde and weaved through the women toward her friend.
Chapter Seven
Lady Dalmeer had a full evening planned in celebration of Christmas Eve. It had begun with the lighting of the Yule Log after dinner, which now burned hot in the main fireplace of the drawing room, throwing light over the gathered party. The servants would be responsible for ensuring that it did not burn out for at least twenty-four hours, or bad luck would descend upon the house. Then they would work to keep the fire alive for twelve days until Epiphany. With this many people hoping to make a match of some sort, bad luck was a dire possibility, indeed.
Not for Wesley, exactly, but for every other hopeful young lady or eager gentleman in want of a spouse.
Lady Dalmeer stood before the gathered party, the blazing fire behind her, prepared to announce the winner of the decorating contest.
Wesley was planted next to his sister, arms clasped lightly while he listened to the countess drone on and on.
“What is the prize?” the elder Mr. Stroud called.
“The decorators of the winning room shall have the privilege of choosing the forfeits for this evening’s game!”
A murmur swept through the gathered people. Such power was exciting…or concerning, depending upon who wielded it.
Oliver Cole gave a low chuckle. “I would not object to being entrusted with that responsibility.”
Lady Dalmeer continued. “It was no easy matter to decide. Each room—well, most of the rooms—have been made exceedingly handsome through your great efforts. Yet, in the end, there could be no question: the drawing room was, without doubt, the most festive of them all!”
Nell leaned close. “Was that not the room she decorated?”
“Not her,” Millie whispered from Nell’s other side, leaning forward. “Her servants.”
Wesley forced his gaze away from Millie’s emerald green gown. The bodice fit her exceedingly well, and together with her dark brown hair off her neck, she made an elegant picture that sent heat billowing through him. Perhaps that was due, in part, to recalling how it felt to stand near her, hands together, breathing the same air.
Gads, was he developing feelings? No. It was merely a result of telling himself he would not focus on women at this house party. His heart was a stubborn creature.
The clapping died down in the room.
“Thank you.” Lady Dalmeer preened. “I am honored by your approval.”
Wesley had to swallow the urge to roll his eyes. The woman was incorrigible. The white feather bobbed in her hair as she continued to speak to the group, describing the game that would begin after a short tea had been served.
“She wants to play us all like little puppets,” Millie said.
Oliver grinned. “You must be enjoying it a little, cousin. With Lady Dalmeer at the helm, each of us will have the chance to find a spouse within the space of a fortnight.”
Nell shot him a look. “Since the house party is three weeks in duration, I shall assume you are giving her more credit than she deserves.”
“I am unsure,” Millie said, drawing out the words. “She may be eccentric, but she does not seem ill-intentioned.”
Nell continued to speak, but Millie seemed distracted, her attention drifting to where Lord Finsbury was in conversation with Miss Stroud. If he had merely flirted with Millie during the brief interlude when he had visited their dining room decorating party, then there was no word for what was occurring presently between him and Miss Stroud. He was brazen in his attention to the woman, bordering on ridiculous.
A line formed between Millie’s eyebrows, her lips pressing together.
“What is bothering you?” Nell whispered, leaning closer to her friend.
Wesley had to take a step nearer to hear their conversation.
