“Indeed, it is, my lord.” The servant sent him a sympathetic look as he held out an umbrella for Winston to take. “I shall remain hopeful that it soon improves.”
“As will I.” Winston nodded. “Thank you.” He was relieved not to be the only guest climbing the stairs to the large house reputed to have an impressive garden.
Garden parties weren’t Winston’s normal choice of entertainment, but he hadn’t been able to think of a better place to meet Millicent. Riding in Hyde Park meant having groomsmen trailing behind. Meeting on Regent Street meant a maid would accompany her at the very least. Attending another ball was problematic as it would likely be a repeat of the previous one where they’d been together but not alone, with too many eyes upon them.
That would never do.
He’d been tempted to suggest they meet at Eliza’s home, but he didn’t want to involve his sister when she’d do everything possible to push them together. Pushing wasn’t part of his plan. Tempting, yes, in that he hoped to tempt Millicent into being alone with him long enough for a kiss. He still felt certain a kiss or two would allow her to fade from his thoughts.
He followed other guests through the house and out onto the two-leveled terrace on the side of the house which led to the garden where he greeted the hosts.
Winston couldn’t help but pause in appreciation at the sight of the lush greenery spread out before him, dotted with bright spring flowers, divided by hedges as well as narrow paths that enticed one to explore. Somehow, the flowers looked even more vivid in the light drizzle.
As he glanced about in admiration, he decided he should attend garden parties more often. Much more pleasurable than going to a ball. Less crowded, and no expectation to dance. Doing so caused complications as far as he was concerned. He found it easier not to dance with anyone rather than show favor to one or two ladies, which only set tongues wagging.
As expected, numerous tents had been erected for guests to linger under, the sides rolled up to allow people to view the gardens yet remain dry.
“At least it isn’t a downpour.”
Winston turned at the familiar voice to see the last person he wanted to, Viscount Dunthorpe, at his side. He frowned at the man. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Nor did I.” The viscount heaved a sigh. “My mother insisted. She says we must continue our investigation.”
“Investigation?”
“To determine who I should wed.”
“Ah, yes. I nearly forgot.” Not that Winston had, when he’d been so irritated by the man at the Hayward ball the other evening. “Who’s winning thus far?”
Dunthorpe heaved another sigh. “Impossible to say.” He met Winston’s gaze with a hopeful expression. “You spoke with Miss Davies the other night. What do you think of her?”
That you should keep your distance. He pressed his lips tight to keep the words from escaping. “I suppose she is nice enough.”
“Hmm. I don’t know whether that is an important quality.”
Winston took care to mask his disapproval. Kindness was underrated, something he’d only realized in the last year or two, but he didn’t bother to disagree. Better that Dunthorpe talk himself out of considering Millicent as a potential wife.
“She’s pleasant enough to look at, I suppose.” The words nearly stuck in Winston’s throat, as if his body protested the lie since he’d already admitted how lovely she was with those beautiful cobalt eyes he could drown in.
“Pleasant, eh?” Dunthorpe’s lips twisted. “I would prefer someone prettier.”
Winston’s hand clenched around the handle of his umbrella as the urge to punch the man took hold. If the viscount took a closer look to truly see her, he would know she was beautiful, from theinside out. That type of beauty was the kind that didn’t fade with time. But Winston wasn’t about to tell him so.
“She’s not as...curvy as I prefer, if you know what I mean,” Dunthorpe added, elbowing him as he spoke.
Winston couldn’t help but glare in return. He knew beyond a doubt that her breasts would fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, and that her slender waist and the flare of her hips were everything a man could want. Dunthorpe was obviously blind.
But this was his chance to turn the viscount away from her, at least until Winston had quenched the need to sample her charms himself. In all honesty, discouraging Dunthorpe seemed like the right thing to do for Millicent’s sake as well. She deserved a man who appreciated her attributes.
“No. Not curvy at all,” Winston agreed. There. Was that enough to have him cast his sights elsewhere? “In fact, I can think of other ladies much more attractive,” he added for good measure.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and the threat of a shiver ran along his spine. He turned to see Millicent standing behind them, a stricken look upon her face as she stared at him.
Then she turned and hurried back inside.
Millie had never wanted to escape as badly as she did at that moment. Her cheeks stung with embarrassment and tears threatened. How could she have been such a fool as to believe Winston found her attractive? Clearly this was some ill-conceived game he was playing, a continuation of the horrible wallflower wager perhaps.
Whatever it was, she wanted nothing to do with it. But as she rushed back inside the house, she realized her mother wasn’t tobe seen among the nearby guests. She looked out the window to search, spotting her already under one of the tents, visiting with friends. Millie couldn’t catch her notice without walking past Winston and Viscount Dunthorpe, something she refused to do.