Her guardian held out his arm, as if escorting her to Harbury’s stables in the middle of the night was the most unexceptional thing in the world.
“If you’ll excuse me…” Millie rose on unsteady feet and then sent what she hoped was a regal nod to the rest. Then, gratefully, she took Asquith’s arm.
“Breathe,” he directed once they were out of hearing. “You look as if you’re about to faint straightaway.”
She inhaled deeply. “Thank you for getting me out of there. I’m aware how much the family cares for me, but I can’t believe so much fuss is necessary simply because I made one bad decision.”
Asquith sent her a sidelong glance. “We’ve all failed you, I think.”
“No! Not in the least. I should apologize to you. I should never have pressed for permission to go with Lord Willard without talking to you first.”
“Perhaps not. But I should have been honest enough to warn you away from him, especially after he prevented Neville from asking you to dance at Almack’s.”
“There’s more to this than I know, isn’t there?”
He acknowledged her with a wince. “Yes.”
“Did you really buy a horse this afternoon?”
“I did.” His gaze was utterly unreadable.
“Was that the only reason you couldn’t be found?”
“I would like you to see the horse.” Asquith avoided the question.
They walked out in the darkness, heading for the lamplight shining out from within the stables. The horse was handsome, indeed. A stallion aware of his worth, too. But with some coaxing, he condescended to permit Millie to stroke his face.
Already she felt better. More herself.
Why couldn’t she understand people the way she understood horses? Horses were…honest.
“Everyone has pulled together to help me.” She ran her hand along the curve of the stallion’s cheek. His nostrils twitched. “I feel that weight.”
“Yes, but only you can decide what happens next.”
“Oh, really?”Nextwas a massive iron door stubbornly sealed. “Then, I’d like to go back to yesterday, please.”
“Would you?” Asquith asked.
“I thought I would.” She’d thought going back to yesterday would be an obvious wish after so terrible a series of mistakes. But would she go back if she could?
Earlier tonight, for one blessed moment in Neville’s firm embrace, she had felt as if everything were finally right. Theexhilaration of escape had brought her back from a long, dark slumber. Neville’s tenderness had felt like a reward.
“Neville is going to propose,” Asquith blithely tossed, a metaphoric pebble sending her pleasant mirage a-ripple.
“So I supposed.”
“Do you know how you will answer?”
She shook her head. “I’m scared. I want—” Her mind went blank. The horse nestled into her hand. “I don’tknowwhat I want. I only know what Idon’twant.”
“What don’t you want?” His voice was uncharacteristically gentle.
“I don’t want to wind up like my mother. I don’t—I can’t—live in a world like that. A world where every breath is taken by permission. A world where I can’t think, can’t laugh, can’t move, can’treadwithout a man’s permission.”
He was silent for a long time. “Was growing up at Willowhurst as bad as all that?”
Her lips twisted bitterly. “Only when my father was at home.”