Page 6

Nell shook her head. “I am on the ground floor.”

“How odd.” Why would the countess give her such a slight? It would appear some people had longer memories and less grace than others.

Millie watched the gentlemen filter through the doorway. “My cousin is here.”

“As is my brother.”

Millie’s gaze caught on Wesley as he followed Oliver. He looked around the room, his neck tipping just enough in his search to emphasize his sharp jawline. A small red mark ran beneath it. Was that from his razor? Goodness, was that Millie’s fault?

“You know,” Nell said dryly. “I do not believe Wesley can recite poetry, either.”

“Oh, hush,” Millie whispered, fighting a smile. “I am only admiring the group of gentlemen.”

“The group? Or one man?”

“I think I shall greet my cousin now.” Millie walked away as Nell suppressed a laugh. The amount of young, attractive people milling about the room proved Lady Dalmeer had more in mind when she had planned this event than a mere Yuletide celebration. The last thing Millie needed was anyone overhearing Nell tease her about how she used to feel for Wesley. “Oliver!”

He shifted to face her, a smile breaking out over his handsome face. “Good evening, Millie.”

She pressed her fingers lightly to his wrist. “It is nice to have a familiar face among this crowd.”

“Indeed. I am glad I will be able to see more of you over the next few weeks. Where is your sister?”

“Helena is ill. The journey was too much for her. Have you heard she is with child?”

“My mother mentioned it. We are very happy for her.” He looked about the room again. “And her husband?”

“Charles remained with her upstairs. He could not bear to come to dinner in the event she might need him. They are very much in love, you know.”

“I recall. It is ghastly.”

“Or something to aspire to?”

“If one is unsensible, desperate, or forced to marry by one’s family, perhaps,” he muttered.

“How are your sisters?” Millie asked. “Or perhaps I have seen them more recently than you have, and I should ask how London is?”

Oliver shook his head, his eyes shining in amusement. “They are both well, I thank you.”

Wesley moved toward the fireplace, speaking to an older gentleman and his wife, Nell at their side. With the glow of the fire beside him, it was easier to see the cut beneath his jaw. Millie peered at it, needing to understand if she was the cause of his nick.

“You have set your sights on your tall neighbor, I see.”

Millie’s attention snapped back to her cousin. “I was distracted by the fire.”

His expression proved he could see directly through her.

“I vow it, Oliver. I have not decided who I will set my cap at yet.”

His dark brows drew up. “You admit to being on the hunt?”

“I am a young woman of two-and-twenty. Of course I am on the hunt.” She sighed. “Honestly, I would be happy to make a good connection.”

He looked at her for a beat. “Did you not…I was under the impression you had an offer before you left London in the spring? That Stroud fellow. He seems as good a connection as any.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I told you that in confidence.”

“No one is listening,” he argued.