A kiss would surely distract his bothersome thoughts. He eased them in the direction of the open terrace door as the dance drew to a close then halted on the dance floor. “Shall we step out for a moment?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
Her gaze searched his face, and he suddenly had the impression he’d disappointed her. “I-I’m sorry but I don’t dare. I am to dance with Dunthorpe next.”
“I see.”
She dropped her gaze for a brief moment. “I wish—” She cut off the words and met his gaze again as she shook her head. “My mother says I shouldn’t bother with them.”
“With what?”
“Wishes.”
His heart pinched at that. Never mind that it almost sounded like something he would say. But he wanted Millicent’s wishes tocome true. He wanted her to dream and reach for the stars. For her to find happiness.
Didn’t that mean she would be better off without him?
“I should return.” She glanced over her shoulder toward where her mother must be.
“Of course.” He offered his arm, her touch bittersweet. “I must be going anyway.” Yet the thought of leaving her to go to his club or his house filled only with servants left a sour taste in his mouth.
How had his attempt to secretly seduce this lovely lady come to the terrible ache he felt from head to toe?
Chapter Fifteen
Millie groaned, slapping ahand to her forehead as she wondered for the hundredth time what she’d been thinking. She should’ve accepted Winston’s invitation to step out on the terrace with him the previous evening. That had been her opportunity for another bold move, yet she’d been too frightened to take it, worried about not only what her mother might think but Dunthorpe as well.
She’d acted more like a wallflower than a woman bent on seducing a gentleman. Time was running out. If she wanted Winston, she needed to throw caution to the wind and be not just bold but...
She frowned, not certain what word best described it. Brash, perhaps? Or brazen? Those words were not normally part of her vocabulary. Regardless,actionwas required. Something that would make Winston realize he couldn’t live without her.
The thought had her pausing the pacing of her bedroom to glance in the mirror. Was such a thing possible or was she chasing after a dream that could never be? Who was she to try toconvince him to love her when she wasn’t entirely sure she was worthy of the kind of love she yearned for?
With a heavy sigh, she straightened, determined not to allow dark thoughts to sway her. Winston was attracted to her and that was all that mattered. As her mother had suggested, she should use the momentum currently on her side.
Given Dunthorpe’s increasing persistence, she had to act now or be prepared to live with regret.
Gathering her resolve, she strode to her desk to pen a message. Every moment of the next few days counted. She still didn’t intend to risk ruin, but there had to be other ways to deepen his interest.
What she did know was that it was imperative they spend more time together, especially since she’d refused his request the previous evening. He might think her interest had waned when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
She’d mention the musicale at Lord and Lady Singleton’s that evening to him with the hope he’d attend. It would provide a chance for them to be together, and if she were clever, perhaps they could manage a few moments alone. The event would be a small gathering, making it unlikely that Dunthorpe would be in attendance. Millie would ask Prue to accompany her and hope Mother wouldn’t want to join them.
A smaller crowd made time alone together more challenging, but ‘brazen’ Millie would find a way to make it happen. She only hoped Winston cooperated with her plan.
Winston listened as Mr. Jenkins, his steward, droned on and on about a decrease in profits and the reasons for it. He forced himself to pay attention for once to see if he could make sense of the man’s report, something he had Millicent to thank for.Usually, he simply nodded, signed whatever needed signing, and took his leave.
“So you see, my lord, we can’t expect better results given the situation. Crop prices keep dropping.”
“And you anticipate this trend to continue?” Winston asked.
The steward’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted at the question, probably because Winston rarely asked any.
“It’s impossible to predict the future, but yes, I do.”
“Perhaps we should consider alternative crops to wheat so we’re not solely competing with American imports.”
Jenkins frowned, the brows forming an intimidating line above his eyes. He looked less than pleased by the suggestion. “Such as?”
“Potatoes and other root vegetables. I’d like to do something unique, as well. Perhaps saffron or lentils.”