Attempting to conceal her panic, she glanced first to her left, and then to her right.
Ugh!She was the only young lady in Neville’s path.
Whatever the reason behind his gesture, she could not bear to be the recipient of anyone’s condescension, especially Neville’s. A single, accidental stumble into the man had been as close as she ever meant to come to him.
Bother that raven!
As for his part, after showing a rather alarming initial interest in her when they’d first arrived in town over a year ago—something she’d swiftly discouraged—he now had no use for her at all. In fact, he’d confirmed those sentiments in the yew maze when he’d thrust her away from him with a disgusted growl.
And yet, he was approaching her with one purposeful stride after another, all bluster and power and breath-stopping, striking physique. His destination was unmistakable. Conversation around her hushed, and she realized Lady Asquith had taken note.Everyone, including the patroness Lady Jersey, had taken note.
Whatcouldthe clod be thinking?
To move at such a rapid pace simply wasn’t done. Moreover, during every recent interaction, they’d barely managed civility. And those occasions had been within the confines of a private home! Neither could perform the pretty in public.
She had to rescue them both from whatever unwelcome “magnanimity” had infected his mind. She had to find another dance partner.
Anypartner.
She cast a panicked gaze for the closest potential mark and met the bemused expression of Viscount Willard, Lord Eltenham’s eldest son and heir.
No. Notanypartner.
Neville was infuriating. Lord Willard, on the other hand, was dauntingly powerful and deeply influential, both in and out of the ballroom. One nod from him could make an aspiring hostess’s reputation; a cutting remark instantly cast her from grace.
Lord Willard assessed Neville with a dark, unreadable glance. Then, to her shock, he turned. He made her chaperone a formal bow.
“My good Lady Asquith, may I have your permission to ask Miss Millicent to dance?”
Millie waited, breathless, as Lady Asquith raised her quizzing glass.
“If Miss Millicent has no objection, I can make none.”
Lady Asquith’s “permission” had hardly been enthusiastic. In fact, she’d been unchristianly rude, although no one, not even Willard, would dare criticize the battle-axe dowager.
But Millie had no time to ponder why Lady Asquith had been so abrupt, because Lord Willard’s intelligent, penetrating green gaze shifted to hers. His eyes—exceptional in a way she could not define—glittered with dizzying effect. For once, she found herself at a complete loss.
“Well, Miss Millicent?” he asked, white-gloved hand aloft.
To decline would be to shame Lady Asquith. To accept was to place herself in too-close proximity to a man whose picture might as well illustrate the word “Corinthian.”
Lord Willard was tall and handsome with perfectly pomaded blonde locks. His unparalleled aristocratic bearing suggested he was a man who demanded nothing less than a lady’s full attention. Still, as she took his hand, her mind raced through possibilities.
Perhaps Lord Willard’s gesture was not a disaster, but an opportunity.
Couldhebe the solution to getting her back to the country where she belonged?
The sale of her childhood home had left her with an impressive dowry, but certainly nothing to tempt a man of the viscount’s wealth. And Willard was known to be far too high in the instep toeverseek a mere squire’s daughter as a bride, even if she was the granddaughter of an earl.
However…
If she became Willard’s flirt for a time, shecouldplead a broken heart when his interest inevitably turned elsewhere. Which would then give her a reason to withdraw from Society, a reason that would not damage the reputations of either of her younger sisters.
Not a scandal in the truest sense, but, still, a solid scheme.
Gathering her resolve, Millie fluttered her eyelashes at the viscount in a way she’d seen Lenora do when mimicking the more flirtatious ladies of theton. Then, she treated him to her most dazzling smile.
Lord Willard didn’t even blink. He simply stared. Never had anyone assessed her with such hawklike intensity. What could behispurpose? And did the current pounding of her heart indicate pleasure?