“Good evening, everyone.”
Millie’s breath caught as Eliza and Trentworth joined them. She dropped into a curtsy as did Prue while the gentlemen bowed.
“Hope you are all well,” Trentworth said as he dipped his head, looking at each of them in turn.
“Indeed.” Winston nodded. “We were just commenting on the ball.” He studied Eliza, who watched her husband, leaving Millie to wonder what Winston was thinking. Did he worry about what his sister thought upon seeing them together again?
Millie certainly did. Even now, she focused on Eliza rather than Winston, concerned what Eliza’s reaction might be if she discovered their attraction to one another.
“The décor is unusual,” Eliza said, turning to examine the room. “I like it. Quite refreshing.”
“Lady Quincy will be the talk of the town after this,” Millie managed, making sure her gaze didn’t return to Winston.
“True,” Eliza agreed. “Everyone else will be trying to outdo this.”
“If you all will excuse us, I would like to dance with my fiancée. If you’re agreeable?” Viscount Winstead asked Prue.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Prue took his offered arm. “We shall return.”
Uncertainty and nerves kept Millie frozen in place. Surely Winston wouldn’t ask her to dance in front of Eliza. He wouldn’t want his sister to guess at what simmered between them.
“My duchess, would you care to dance, as well?” Trentworth asked Eliza, who smiled in return.
“Indeed, I would.” She turned to Millie and Winston. “If you’ll excuse us.”
“Of course,” Millie said, relieved until she saw Winston’s hand extended toward her even though Eliza had only started to turn away.
“Millicent, may I have the honor of this dance?”
Millie stilled at his use of her given name, hoping Eliza hadn’t heard him. “How kind of you.”
But she had.
Eliza turned back to glance between them, brows lifted with curiosity. “Millicent? Are the two of you on such familiar terms?”
Winston didn’t bat an eye. “I feel as if all the ladies in your literary league are friends of mine.”
Trentworth narrowed his eyes, suggesting Winston hadn’t fooled him, but much to Millie’s relief, he didn’t say anything.
“I am happy to hear that.” Yet her expression suggested otherwise as she glanced between Winston and Millie. Then she and her husband departed for the dance floor.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to dance, I suppose,” Winston muttered. “I fear it only further stirred her concern about us.”
Millie’s heart dipped and remained there. Why, she didn’t know, when she didn’t want Eliza to know about them either. Except that Winston hiding it from his sister confirmed their dalliance was only temporary.
Dalliance was an apt term—a lighthearted frivolity that would soon end.
Her heart ached at the thought. Suddenly it felt impossible to enjoy their time together when she already knew how she’d feel when it ended—devastated.
She forced a smile, unwilling to allow Winston to see her upset. “More than likely.” She searched for her mother and found her a fair distance away. “Perhaps it would be best if we forego the dance. I should return to my mother. She’ll be wondering what’s become of me.” After all, she couldn’t remain speaking with Winston by herself without drawing notice. Moving away would protect them both from wagging tongues.
“Don’t you want to dance?” he asked with a frown.
Before she could respond, Viscount Dunthorpe joined them. “Good evening.”
Millie managed a polite smile as she returned the viscount’s greeting, though he was the last person she wanted to see. Oddly enough, Winston scowled at him, though Dunthorpe appeared oblivious to Winston’s displeasure.
“Seems as if it would’ve been easier to simply hold the ball out of doors, don’t you think?” Dunthorpe asked as he glanced around the ballroom with a frown. “Why bring inside what’s supposed to be out?”