Millie thought again about the moment at the Radcliff ball when she chose to deny indulging in another clandestine meeting with Winston. She had no regrets about that choice as risking ruin was nothing to take lightly.
Yes, she still yearned for a life with him but realized now that she deserved to be loved and chosen for who she was rather than what she did. But as she followed her mother into the grandhouse, she had to admit that although she felt different, little in her world had changed.
A glance around the ballroom didn’t immediately reveal any of her friends, or Winston, but the hour was still early. She had yet to determine what she would say to Winston if given the chance to speak with him.
They joined her aunt and Catherine.
“You look lovely,” Catherine said as she studied Millie’s gown.
“Thank you.” Millie smoothed a gloved hand along her side. She’d purposefully worn one of her favorites, a pale green silk with brown, braided trim and seed pearls embellishing the bodice, to bolster her confidence. “You look pretty as well.”
“Mother insisted I have a new gown since I’ve worn the others at least once already.” Catherine glanced down at the white silk with lace edging that must’ve cost a pretty penny. “I do hope it helps me catch a gentleman’s eye.”
“There’s no rush,” Millie advised her. “You should enjoy the Season before worrying about such things.”
Catherine frowned. “Please know I don’t mean any disrespect, but I do not care to be left sitting on the shelf like you.” She shuddered. “You are very courageous to put on such a brave front, despite still remaining unmarried.”
Millie clenched her hand into a fist in the folds of her skirts, refusing to show how hurtful the words were but wouldn’t remain silent. “We all have our own path. I, for one, am pleased I wasn’tforcedto marry my first Season.” She placed emphasis on the word to bring home her point. “I’m sure you don’t want that either.”
Catherine shook her head, a condescending smile on her face. “As I said, you are so brave.”
Millie bit back a retort, knowing it would serve no purpose. Her cousin needed to learn her own lessons.
Brave. She nodded at the word as it described her the last few weeks. Even if nothing came of her efforts to flirt with Winston, she was pleased to have taken advantage of the opportunities presented. She was a better person for the experience and would always treasure the special moments they had shared.
Millie turned her attention from her cousin to peruse the quickly filling ballroom. A heaven-themed mural was painted on the tall ceiling with robe-clad angels, exotic flowers, and golden gates. White fluted columns ran along the center, separating the dance floor from the rest of the room. Massive crystal chandeliers lit the area and touches of silver were everywhere, from trays on tables to vases that held white lilies to pots of tall ferns.
The grandness of it was almost overdone in Millie’s eyes. She much preferred the garden theme from the Quincy ball. The first dance was about to begin, and couples took their places on the parquet floor.
Winifred waved from across the room, and it bolstered Millie’s confidence to know a friend was nearby. She would visit with her when one of her relatives was available to watch over Catherine.
She settled for speaking with her aunt and another cousin in addition to Catherine. She couldn’t help but keep an eye on the doorway for Winston, though she remained doubtful he would attend.
Unfortunately, Viscount Dunthorpe walked in, and she quickly turned away, preferring to wait as long as possible before greeting him. She supposed he would ask her to dance. Dread filled her at the idea. She had yet to warm to the thought of marrying him and doubted her feelings would change. Perhaps a heartfelt conversation with her father would sway him from the match. Remaining unwed seemed preferable to marrying a man she didn’t even like.
Soon Catherine was asked to dance. Millie watched the pair to ensure nothing untoward occurred and was relieved when her younger cousin returned at the end of the dance without any mishap.
It didn’t take long before Catherine was asked again, a testament to how popular she already was. Millie frowned when the couple paused to visit after the dance ended. Catherine continually touched the gentleman’s arm, a habit she had with most everyone. But it wasn’t appropriate with someone outside the family. Millie made a mental note to mention it to her, only to feel old at the thought.
Would this be her future? Acting the part of a spinster aunt who fussed over the slightest misstep, certain it would bring ruin?
She huffed out a breath, hoping that wouldn’t come to pass. She returned her attention to Catherine, only to realize she wasn’t where she’d been a moment ago. Unease crawled along Millie’s skin as she searched the crowd for her.
With a gasp, she caught sight of a lady in a white gown who looked like her cousin slipping out the patio door.
Good heavens! What was Catherine thinking?
Millie stole a glance at her aunt, Catherine’s mother, who had yet to notice.
“I’ll return directly,” Millie told her own mother and then made her way across the room, winding through guests who paid her little mind.
She could only hope no one had noticed Catherine’s departure. Millie reached the door and stepped onto the patio, the soft glow of a few lanterns barely penetrating the dark night as she closed the door behind her.
“Catherine? Catherine, where are you?” She blinked as her eyes adjusted, but the stone patio stood empty. A bench gracedone end, but no one was in sight. Where could she be? “Catherine?”
The sound of the door opening tightened Millie’s stomach. She spun to face whoever had joined her, worried it would be her aunt or mother. She braced for a lecture for having allowed Catherine to escape her sight.
Dunthorpe closed the door behind him, a smile on his face. “Miss Davies. How f-fortuitous.”