Page 19 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Millicent was about as delicate as a rapier sword. Which piqued Drake’s suspicion. Why would a young miss carry herself with such self-assurance? When she glanced at him, her steady gaze held the confidence of an equal. He’d only seen that kind of power in three women. The Queen. The Duchess of Dorsett. And Hannah Simmons when she looked at his friend, Killian. Drake shuddered at the thought.
The bloody cliffs of Dover will fall into the sea before I end up as love-drunk as my idiot friend, Killian.
Watching his betrothed as she threw back her shoulders and sent her stepmother a withering glare, Drake’s mouth watered. Even in her suffering, she was defiant. He’d never wanted anyone with such desperation. But it was just another appetite, and he could control his hunger. Hewouldcontrol it with the same ruthless discipline he applied to all areas of his life.
Patricia walked over to her stepdaughter in an overture of motherly affection, but Drake saw the vicious pinch she delivered to Millicent’s arm before gracing him with one of her calculated smiles.
Whatever changes he perceived in his betrothed, the orchestrator was obvious. Patricia Whittenburg had been punishing her stepdaughter. Most grievously.
‘My lord, what a stunning home you have so far in the country.’ Patricia pulled Millicent with her as they approached.
Millicent wrenched free of her stepmother and glanced at the stone entrance to his home. ‘It is quite impressive, sir.’ Her husky voice stroked along his senses like the pleasant scratch of nails digging into his back. Rough and delicious.
‘I’m sure you can come up with something better than that, dear.’ Patricia’s tinkling laughter rang across the gravel drive. ‘A home like this is deserving of a much grander complimentthan merely “impressive”. And a much grander mistress, but I suppose theEarl of Tetlywill make do.’
Drake didn’t miss her emphasis on his title. The woman was single-minded in her focus to climb the social ladder at any cost. While she lost a viscount thanks to Millicent’s awkward – surprisingly arousing – attempt at seduction, she gained an earl. Not a bad trade while still ensuring Millicent remained below her stepmother in the hierarchy of the beau monde.
‘On the contrary, madame, I find that Miss Millicent is uniquely suited to become a countess.’ Drake defended his betrothed before he could think better of it.
Patricia’s smile turned brittle. Millicent’s eyes widened to stare at Drake. He could only guess she was as surprised at his defence of her as he was. Strangely, the idea made him feel uncomfortable. Had he been such a beast that she expected no kindness?
Probably. I am a dragon, after all.
‘A countess bringing shame onto all of us. But perhaps you can train her better than we were able.’ A bright winter sun highlighted Patricia’s sharp features, emphasising her cold beauty. Gold ringlets swung gracefully against a cheek both smooth and pink like a petal. Full lips painted the same delicate shade of rose pursed in a practised smile. But her beauty hid an ugly woman beneath. She was a conniving, heartless bitch, and no abundance of delicate features or carefully applied cosmetics would ever change that.
Lord Whittenburg joined them from where he had been directing the unloading of their luggage.
‘Lord Whittenburg.’ Drake nodded curtly, then turned his gaze to Millicent, dismissing both of her parents rudely. ‘Miss Millicent, welcome to Alder House.’
Millicent’s gaze captured him like a siren’s song. Sunlight brought out amber hues in Millicent’s rich-brown eyes. Herthick lashes, a few shades darker than her blazing hair, perfectly framed her brilliant gaze. Where her stepmother’s complexion and features mirrored a porcelain doll, Millicent was powerful, bold, absolutely stunning. Or she would be once she ate a decent meal and regained some of the colour in her cheeks.
His anger deepened. A usually comfortable emotion. But this amalgamation of rage and desire, this need to protect Millicent and ensure she was healthy and well while simultaneously destroying anyone who threatened her, was new and alarming. He did not like it. Not one bit. Distance and decorum. That is what this relationship required. Demands he intended to lay out immediately.
‘Allow me to introduce you to your staff, then you can settle into your rooms and refresh yourself before we meet in my study.’
Millicent’s gaze swept to his. ‘Meet in your study? For what purpose?’
‘There are things we must discuss.’ He spared a withering glance at her parents. ‘Alone.’
‘But surely that’s not proper.’ Patricia had overheard his comment and inserted herself into the conversation, gliding across the gravel drive to land next to Millicent. Drake kept a sharp gaze on her hand. If she reached over to pinch Millicent again, he might well hit her. A first for him, as he did not condone violence toward women. Patricia Whittenburg would be a well-deserving exception to his rule.
‘Even engaged couples can’t be cloistered together, unchaperoned.’ Her eyebrows rose toward her blonde hairline, creating unsightly wrinkles that would horrify her if she knew.
‘I think you’ll find I can do whatever I damn well please in my own house with my soon-to-be wife, madame. Lord Whittenburg, please remind your wife of her manners, or I will ask both of you to leave.’
Patricia gasped, her hand fluttering over a barely contained bosom. Her dress – a garish orange – was cut so scandalously low, Drake feared she might fall out of it and embarrass them all. The foolish woman had opted not to wear a cape, though the temperatures were frigid. It was likely there would be snow soon. She was the last person to be handing out advice on propriety.
‘How dare you!’ she sputtered.
‘Quite easily, madame. I have welcomed you to stay here, allowed you to invite God-knows-who to my estate for a wedding celebration thrust upon me after being entrapped by an enterprising young miss.’ Millicent stiffened against him, and he felt a moment of remorse at his harsh words.
Well, what does she expect? That I might be overjoyed in a forced marriage?
While his insult had been directed at Patricia, he wouldn’t feel guilty about pointing out Millicent’s devious behaviour. He hardened his stare. ‘Tread carefully, Lady Whittenburg. You’ll find I’m not nearly so accommodating as your husband.’
Lord Whittenburg’s cheeks flushed at the implied slight.
In mere moments, Drake had insulted his betrothed, offended his new in-laws, and established his brutish nature.
