It couldn’t have anything to do with the lady at his side. He stole another glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was pretty in a reserved manner, but he liked the way she looked, so fresh and natural. There were no artifices applied in an attempt to enhance her looks. Just her.
So what if she liked to read? In all honesty, he didn’t understand why that bothered some men. Why wouldn’t he prefer to converse with an intelligent lady with opinions of her own? His sister certainly had them, and he liked talking with her. There was nothing worse than speaking with a debutante only capable of saying what her mother had told her to say.
Millicent turned to speak with Lady Garland, another member of the literary league and one of his sister’s friends. That provided him the opportunity to admire the line of her neck, though dwelling on it overlong proved to be a mistake when he could only think of pressing kisses along the length of it.
He dragged his attention away, only to find it quickly returning to the alabaster skin of her cheek. From there, his focus shifted lower, to her modest decolletage that hinted at the swell of her breasts. Those might also be modest, but he wouldn’t complain. Not when the plumpness of them rose and fell with every breath she took.
How was a man supposed to think of anything when tempted by such an inviting sight?
Winston clenched his jaw, realizing his thoughts were getting away from him. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to think of what he was supposed to speak with her about.
Oh, yes. The parameters of the kiss.
Why was that important again? Damn. The evening was going to be a long one at this rate.
Chapter Four
The following morning, Milliesighed as she thought over the delightful dinner party and her time with Winston. It had been some time since she enjoyed herself so much. How fortunate that she had decided to attend, despite hesitating on the doorstep.
Winston had been wonderful company during dinner, though she was sorry they hadn’t spent more time together the rest of the night. It had almost seemed as if he intended to say something to her once or twice, but each time they’d been interrupted.
She’d felt his attention on her several times during the party. Dare she hope she had truly caught his interest? Had the small step she’d taken toward seducing him actually worked?
The question had her huffing out a frustrated breath. What if she had? Then what? The situation felt much like a chess match, except she didn’t know a rook from a knight. She was out of her element. Did she proceed with a kiss and then attempt yetanother bold move to keep his attention? Given his experience with ladies, how was that even possible?
There was only so far she was willing to take the flirtation. She refused to risk her reputation as doing so would not only ruin her but bring shame to her family. She couldn’t allow that to come to pass.
Flirting was one thing but anything more than a kiss quite another. A true seduction was out of the question, wasn’t it?
Then again, she already knew Winston was not in search of a wife. Not yet, at any rate, according to Eliza. It would be up to Millie to change his mind.
The prospect was terrifying. Impossible. As far out of reach as the stars in the night sky.
She wasn’t a lady who inspired gentlemen, let alone a rogue, to act out of character. Far from it. She was only Millie, a plain, bookish lady of advanced years and limited attributes.
Yet this morning, she refused to focus on those limitations. For the moment, she would concentrate on the positives of the evening.
And the promise of a kiss.
That was enough to have her beaming, but from that point matters became tricky. Complicated, in fact. Did she offer a kiss at their next meeting with the hope he would want another? Or did she play coy and hold out, making it clear what she expected?
What did she expect?
She grimaced as doubt returned. Based on her reaction during their brief flirtation on the stairs, she didn’t know if she could make him wait sinceshedidn’t think she could when being with him sent her pulse scrambling and weakened her knees.
I am not desperate, she reminded herself. Yet she couldn’t pretend to have control over her emotions or the way he made her feel. To think she was capable of passion shocked her.
In all honesty, she was desperate—but only for Winston.
When those jade green eyes of his had focused on her mouth, she had been beside herself, uncertain what to say or how to act. If anything—when—anything more happened between them, how would she manage to resist any additional overture he made?
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, groaning as she realized the situation was fraught with peril.
“Millie, whatever is the matter?” her mother asked as she entered the drawing room. “Are you under the weather? You were distracted at breakfast and now seem even more so.”
“Oh. It is nothing.” Millie waved a hand in the air and masked her roiling emotions with what she hoped was a composed expression. “I’m merely tired. What are your plans for the day?”
Her mother watched her for a long moment before allowing the change in subject. With a matronly frame and brown hair that had faded with time, she was still an attractive woman who tended to see the world in black and white. No indecisiveness for her. She moved through life with surety coated by a polite facade.