Page 15 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Davies shook his head, his finger pressing against his lips. He motioned her to a door cleverly hidden in the wooden panelling. When they were inside the dimly lit servants’ corridor, he spoke. ‘Lady Whittenburg drank enough wine to keep her sleeping till noon tomorrow, but your father’s always been a light sleeper. Take this to the kitchens and use the servants’ entrance. I’ll make sure the door stays unlocked. Be careful, Miss Whittenburg. The streets are not safe for a lady.’
Millie felt tears burn her eyes. She wished she could hug the dear man but knew he would hate such a show of familiarity. Instead, she winked.
‘Thank you, Davies.’
The stern butler ducked his head like a bashful schoolboy. ‘Off with you, Miss Millicent.’ In addition to the lantern, he handed her a wrapped sandwich and a lemon drop. ‘In case you might be hungry.’ Millie couldn’t stop the wobble in her chin, but Davies pretended not to notice her emotional display. ‘Be back before sunrise, or your father will be taking his breakfast and might see you.’
‘You are wonderful, Davies. I hope you know how lucky we are to have you.’ Even in the dim light of the lantern, she could see the man’s cheeks turn red. Not wishing to cause him further embarrassment, Millie slipped past him and rushed down the servants’ hall toward the kitchen.
Lady Winterbourne lived in Belgrave Square, a mere ten-minute carriage ride from Millie’s house. But in the middle of the night, on foot, the journey seemed daunting.
‘Pull yourself together, Millie.’ Refusing to let her imagination run wild, she put her long legs to use, striding through the London night as if it belonged to her. The sandwich and lemon drop helped immensely. Thirty minutes later, she climbed the stone stairs of Lady Winterbourne’s house.
She knocked twice, and the huge door opened. A tall, dour man stared at her. He stood as straight as a ruler and blinked at Millie. His thin lips tightened into a pale line.
‘Hello, Stokes. Please tell Her Grace I must see her.’
The butler pulled a gold watch from his waistcoat pocket and took his time flicking it open. ‘Her Grace is not accepting callers at half past midnight.’ His voice was as cold and hard as his gaze.
‘Stokes, who is at the door?’ Philippa’s familiar voice filled Millie with relief.
Stokes refused to turn around, but Millie didn’t miss how his shoulders jerked like he’d been hit with a bullet.
The door opened wider and Philippa shoved Stokes out of the way. ‘Millicent. What’s happened? Come in. Stokes, don’t just stand there like some decaying statue. Take Millicent’s coat.’ When Stokes only blinked at Philippa, she scowled. ‘Can you hear me?’ She repeated the command, almost yelling in the man’s ear. ‘Take Millicent’s coat!’
Stokes’ face remained impressively blank. Without a word, he took Millie’s jacket, turning to walk slowly down the hall.
‘Horrid man.’ Philippa’s gaze followed him before she turned, her blue eyes assessing Millie. ‘Are you well?’
Emphatically not.
Millie shook her head. ‘No.’ She followed Philippa into her front sitting room, spilling out the entire awful affair.
By the time Philippa had heard everything, Millie had a tumbler of whiskey in her hand and felt marginally better. The duchess would know what to do.
‘I must say, Millicent. I’m not sure what to do.’
Bollocks!
‘Can’t I just run away?’ Though the thought of never seeing Major General Drake again filled her with a surprisingly hollow ache.
Philippa waved her hand, dismissing Millie’s question like a fly buzzing around a cream cake. ‘We don’t run away, Millicent. We run toward. We are the Queen’s trusted few. No. I think the best course of action is to convince Major General Drake to break the engagement.’
‘I tried that. He is a stubborn, stupid,’delicious, ‘pompous ass.’
‘Of course he is. He’s a man.’
Millie snorted.
Philippa rubbed her index finger against her thumb. ‘Fine. If you can’t convince him to beg off, then our plans to set you up as a maid are dashed.’ She took a healthy sip of her own glass. ‘We can still make this work. I have a meeting with the Queen tomorrow. She has a certain lord of interest she wishes us to focus on in our investigation. Once I have his name, we can take advantage of your wedding to create a trap.’
Millie shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Your stepmother’s sure to invite the entire beau monde to watch your humiliation. We can use that to our advantage. I shall write to Patricia and encourage a week-long celebration at Major General Drake’s country house. In the wilds of Bedfordshire, as I recall. Once I know who the Queen wishes for us to target, I can ensure your stepmother sends him an invitation.’
‘And then what?’
‘Then we trap a killer, Millicent.’ Philippa’s red lips curled in a vicious smile. ‘The Queen will be duly impressed by your skills, and a married woman has much more freedom in the beau monde. Especially when her husband prefers a distant marriage, as Major General Drake is sure to do. This could work splendidly. By the by, I have an early wedding gift for you.’
