A request for a clandestine meeting had to be kept secret, she supposed, if that was truly the purpose of the message. Having never had such a meeting, she wasn’t quite sure.
She glanced at the maid, not wanting to be rude, but wishing she’d step away. As anxious as she was to read it, Millie preferred to do so in private.
Alice seemed to sense her silent request and turned away with a quiet sigh to put away some items in the wardrobe, though she frequently glanced in Millie’s direction.
Millie opened the message with trembling fingers to see a masculine scrawl that ended with a flourish of a W at the bottom.
Winston. It had to be.
With her face heating and pulse hammering, she hurriedly read it.
Dear Millicent,
Will you meet me at the Thompson garden party tomorrow afternoon?
W
Yes! She touched a hand to her heart, hoping to calm its rapid beat. This was all incredibly exciting but nerve-racking as well. How did she reply yet keep it secret?
“Alice?”
The maid rushed over as if anxious to be of assistance—or to hear some juicy gossip. “Yes, miss?”
“If I wanted to reply to this...secret message...” Millie began.
“Why, you could write a response on that one, seal it, and I would return it to the footman, who would return it to the one who delivered it.” She brushed her hands together as if dusting them off, suggesting the process was simple. “Nothing for anyone to find and no one the wiser.”
Millie paused a moment. “I would like to do that if you would be so kind as to aid me.”
“Of course, miss.”
“But you mustn’t share a word of this with anyone.” If her parents discovered this, she couldn’t imagine the consequences.
“No, miss.” The maid’s gaze dropped to the floor before meeting hers again, her earnest expression reassuring. “You must know after all these years that you can trust me.”
“I do. Thank you, Alice.” But how did she reply? She couldn’t think with the maid watching her so closely. “If you’d give me a moment.”
“Certainly. I will advise the footman we need his services and return directly.” With a bob of her head, she hurried out the door.
Alice’s departure didn’t settle Millie’s nerves in the least. Was she proceeding in the right manner to capture Winston’s interest? Was a kiss enough of a bold move to help him see her as a potential wife?
Or was she risking ruin for nothing?
She drew a deep breath and pressed a hand against her fluttering stomach. Moving forward with care would prevent any unfortunate mishaps. She nearly rolled her eyes at the mild word. Yet the alternative—considering marriage to Viscount Dunthorpe—was unacceptable. Not when she had a chance, however slim, with Winston.
Despite her spinning emotions, she knew what she wanted—a few minutes in his company. A garden party seemed like theperfect opportunity. Surely they could find a quiet corner in which to talk—or even better, kiss. That he’d suggested the idea was a good sign.
She smiled as she penned a reply, sealed it, and waited for Alice to return. Tomorrow afternoon couldn’t come quickly enough.
A steady drizzle significantly dampened Winston’s mood the following afternoon as he stepped out of his house and into the waiting carriage. It was hardly good weather for a garden party even if rain this time of year was expected.
In his mind, he’d imagined a sunny day and warm temperatures that would allow Millicent and him to wander along the garden paths until they found a secluded hedge to linger behind. Instead, he would be forced to carry an umbrella and hope their hosts had tents set up to allow them to escape the weather, which would be far from ideal.
Still, he refused to be deterred from his goal. Weather be damned. He only hoped Millicent felt the same as he would be disappointed if she chose to remain home.
The drive to Lord and Lady Thompson’s residence, also in Mayfair, didn’t take long. Winston couldn’t resist glaring at the sky through the carriage window several times with the hope of seeing a break in the clouds to no avail.
His scowl when he alighted had the footman stiffening in concern as the servant held the carriage door. “The weather is dismal, James.”