Indecisiveness was driving her mad. She’d been short with her mother and one of her nephews, and it had taken all of her patience to listen to her sister’s complaints about her husband’s lack of understanding.
She could hardly bear it and knew she was on the brink of doing something drastic. Which way it leaned remained to be seen. She stood on a precipice but couldn’t see which path to take.
The message in her hand might tip the scales if it happened to be from Winston. Heart pounding, she gripped it tightly, doing her best to look around to make certain no one had noticed. How unfortunate that her maid wasn’t here to revel in the secrecy of the moment. Alice would love the drama.
With another glance over her shoulder toward her mother, Millie unfolded the piece of paper.
Meet me on the terrace as soon as possible.
W.
Excitement rushed through her as she reread the message, a concerning reaction given the few, brief words written in a now familiar masculine scrawl. She found it shocking to realize how the sight of his handwriting made her feel—she would risk nearly anything to be with him. The chance to be alone with Winston was becoming her favorite pastime.
Yet it could also lead to ruin. She couldn’t forget that for even a moment.
With a steadying breath, she glanced around the ballroom to get her bearings. She had only attended a few events at Tisdale House over the years. Glossy woodwork added a rich warmth to the room, and heavy azure velvet drapes framed tall windows along one wall. Four fluted columns supported the vaulted ceiling and boasted elaborate scrollwork at the top. Two small, curved balconies on an upper level allowed observers to view the room, though no one used them at the moment.
The terrace door was on the opposite side of the room, leaving the dance floor between her and her destination where couples already moved in time to the music.
An excuse to her mother would be necessary. One that would not only allow her to walk away but to be gone for several minutes. But what?
Her stomach danced with nerves, and once again, she realized how inept she was at subterfuge. Lying did not come easily, nor did pretending, especially when her emotions were involved.
She had to hope her mother was distracted enough by visiting with friends that she would accept a vague excuse.
‘As soon as possible’ meant now, and she was eager to see Winston. The thought spurred her into turning toward her mother to catch her eye. “I see a friend I am going to greet.”
Her mother nodded then returned to her conversation.
Nerves humming, Millie moved casually toward the terrace doors, hoping no one noted her path. Then again, since when did anyone notice anything she did? As expected, nobody glanced her way as she eased through the crowd and started around the dance floor.
“Miss Davies?”
The masculine voice had her turning to see Viscount Dunthorpe nearby. Her stomach tightened as she forced a smile, annoyed by the interruption.
“Viscount Dunthorpe. How nice to see you.” She nearly groaned at her words since it wasn’t nice at all.
“And you.” He bowed as she curtsied. “I hope you will save me a dance this evening?” he asked, although he sounded as enthusiastic about the prospect as she felt.
“How kind. Of course.” She waited with bated breath for him to end the conversation and move away. She didn’t dare do so for fear her mother was observing her.
“Excellent. I look forward to it.” With a dip of his head, he continued on his way, allowing her to draw a relieved breath.
Glancing about once more, Millie continued around the dance floor, hoping she didn’t see anyone else who would stopher. Luckily, she made it to the French door without further interruption. Nerves jumping, she paused briefly beside the door and looked to see if anyone was watching.
How odd that after all these years of longing to be noticed, she now wanted to be ignored. With a mental shake at her ridiculous thoughts, she opened the door and slipped out. If confronted, she would say that she needed fresh air, though the excuse sounded unbelievable when she had only just arrived.
The chilly air caused her to shiver, and she rubbed her arms as she glanced around the all-too-empty terrace. There was no sign of Winston. Had she read the message wrong?
She didn’t dare call his name in case someone else lingered in the shadows. It wouldn’t do to be caught. She eased toward the edge of the stone patio where the light from the windows faded, and the shadows deepened. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark.
How long did she wait? Not long, lest her mother came in search of her. If Winston had managed to deliver the note, he had to be here somewhere. She would give it another minute and then—
“Millicent.”
Her breath caught and all her worries fell away at the sight of his tall form and broad shoulders moving toward her. Her nerves settled as if his mere presence meant all was right with the world. “Winston.”
“Thank you for meeting me.” His charming smile made the clandestine meeting feel like an adventure rather than a risk she shouldn’t have taken.