Page 51

“At the beginning, I merely added any man to the list who smiled at me.” Ah, so she had been thinking of Mr. Hawthorne as he passed. Millie seemed to grow more confident in her strides, allowing them to move slightly faster.

“But now…” he prompted.

“Now I am being reasonable.”

That sat uneasily on Wesley’s mind. He pulled her along, supporting her as they moved in a circle.

“Distract me,” Millie requested. “Tell me of your latest…updates to your estate.”

“You would be bored,” he said. “You do not wish to hear about the estate.”

“But you do love improving your house.”

“It is my father’s house.”

Millie rolled her eyes. “Everyone who knows you is aware that you take great pride in your position as the heir and that you have an exceptional talent for improving the antiquated systems on your estate.”

Wesley had lost the ability to speak. He glided along on the metal skates, keeping Millie upright and doing his best to focus on the task at hand, but she had thrown his thoughts into a jumble. He did take great pride in his position within his home. Because he knew it would one day pass to him, he helped as much as he could with streamlining their processes with the flocks, and, more recently, developing a new irrigation system that more evenly watered the crops.

But none of these things were interesting to young women. No one wanted to be wooed with talks of digging new ditches and utilizing the uphill stream to his advantage.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “I am gratified you are even aware of how I spend my time.”

“I am aware,” she said, looking at the ice as she focused her efforts on staying upright. Her hands continued to grip his arm, and he wanted the moment to last forever.

Wesley had difficulty taking in a full breath, and he did not think the exercise was to blame. All this week he had considered how he felt about Millie, but he had yet to think about how she might have felt about him, and for how long. She clearly had been paying attention. He knew her as Nell’s friend whose family was close to his. A family who came over for dinner parties or to play parlor games on occasion. A family who sat near them in church, whom they walked home with on nice, sunny days. He had not allowed himself to consider her romantically, and he had not thought about how she might have considered him.

Had Millie made a mistake in asking him about his estate? Her only intention had been to entice him to speak at length about a subject with which he was intimately familiar. She should have asked about his two favorite hunting hounds or the horse he adored. Perhaps a better subject might have been what his parents planned to do for Twelfth Night while he and Nell were absent. Anything to shift the subject to Wesley and away from Millie’s foolish behavior that week.

The short of it was that she was embarrassed. Watching Mr. Hawthorne skate by with the pretty Miss Sterling on his arm had sent Millie’s mind into a spin. She had shared one smile with the man and spent the subsequent day wondering if he was hopelessly in love with her. The same had happened with Lord Finsbury—one conversation, and she imagined he cared for her enough to write letters and leave them in her room to find.

Was she so self-centered?

Mr. Stroud had been the most obvious choice from the beginning, and she had written him off because she had not wanted the anonymous admirer to be him. Mr. Kendrick, a man she had dismissed merely because of his age, was still only slightly more possible.

“You look angry, Millie,” Wesley said. “If you want me to tell you how I decided where each ditch would be dug, I will gladly lay it out for you.”

That put a smile on her lips. She tried to swat at his arm but lost her balance, her skates slipping beneath her. Wesley’s free arm went around her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest and bringing her feet under her again. Heat swept through her body as she noticed how strong and firm he felt against her.

Millie’s face was directly in front of his now, his arm around her back holding her snug. His chest pressed against hers as his breathing remained heavy. Despite the layers of warm clothes and outerwear, she could feel every place where he touched her, burning with warmth. If that was how it felt to be in his arms, she never wanted to look at another man again.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“It was partially my fault.”

“Only partially?”

“You were not forced to resort to violence, Mildred.”

Millie fought a smile. “You could have let me fall.”

Wesley loosened his grip until she was standing before him, holding her hands in his. “I will never let you fall.”

Millie’s heart thudded hard as she searched for the appropriate response. She was precluded from answering when Oliver skated toward them and lifted his hat in greeting. “You possess a natural talent for this,” she said.

“And you, dear cousin, looked like you nearly fell to the ice.”

This was true. “I am not as well-balanced as some of you.”