Page 22 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Alder House was a maze of corridors. Despite Penny’s clear directions, Millie found herself turned around three times before she finally stumbled upon a dark oak door. She could only hope it was the study as by now, she was at least five minutes late. The stern major general was sure to take a dim view of tardiness.
In her haste, she forgot to knock. Striding into the study, she stopped in her tracks. Drake stood facing the window, absently stroking his scar. He held a hand behind his back in a posture reeking of his time in the military.
Bollocking balderdash, the man is beautiful.
The word was all wrong. Far too feminine a term to describe his savage countenance, muscled limbs, thick chest, and shockingly well-formed buttocks. But beautiful is what she thought when she saw him.
He wasn’t wearing his coat, and his breeches stretched across a physique, putting Greek gods to shame. Heat washed over Millie. She knew her cheeks would be flaming red thanks to her fair colouring.
The infuriating man chose that moment to turn around.
Brilliant. He’s caught me staring at his bottom like some blushing, moon-eyed ninny.
He raised a broken eyebrow at her, his pale eyes missing nothing.
‘Miss Millicent.’ He took a moment to pull out a pocket watch and squint at the time. ‘I wondered if you’d escaped back to London, attempting to jilt me before the wedding guests descend upon us.’
Millie tried for a casual laugh but instead broke into a fit of coughing. Ever so sophisticated. ‘Capital plan, Major General Drake. We’ll save everyone the trouble of a tedious house party. If I did run pell-mell to London, or the wilds of Scotland, or even further abroad, our doomed nuptials need never occur.’
He took three long steps, eating up the distance between them until he stood so close, his chest almost brushed against her. ‘If you try to run, I will follow you, Millicent. And bring you back.’ His voice was a deep growl vibrating in the marrow of her bones. A delicious shiver tickled down her spine. ‘Hunters love the chase, you know.’
Damnation.
Clearing her throat, Millie willed her body to calm down. ‘Lucky for you, I’ve always preferred to stand and fight instead of fleeing, my lord. I’m not quite as cowardly as you think.’
He leaned infinitesimally closer. Cloves and cheroots tickled Millie’s nose as something warm and hungry unfurled in her belly. ‘I would never accuse you of being a coward, Millicent. You are far too bold for that. Though it does give one cause to wonder.’ For a moment, he lingered.
Her skin, unaccountably sensitive, shivered from the scrape of her corset against excruciatingly budded nipples. If she leaned forward, her lips would press against his.
Scandalous!
Before Millie could come up with a reply, he stepped away, breaking the spell.
‘I had Mrs Holland bring us refreshments.’
Millicent racked her brain to recall who Mrs Holland might be. Ah, yes. A plump lady with grey curls and dimpled cheeks. The housekeeper.
‘Sit. Eat.’ He gestured to a low table that held a tea tray complete with sandwiches and clever little cakes with orange icing.
Millie had only eaten broth and bread crusts for the last two weeks. Her stomach growled loudly. She slapped a hand against her belly, her blush flaring violently. ‘I apologise, my lord. Please excuse me.’ Patricia would have been mortified at Millie’s lack of decorum.
‘Sorry for what? You are hungry. I’d wager you haven’t had a good meal in many days.’ His voice softened, though his jaw clenched. ‘Eat.’
Millie blinked at his rough order. She lowered her voice to mimic his. ‘Sit. Eat. I’m not a dog to be commanded, sir.’
He clenched his jaw, the muscles contracting in a mesmerising display. ‘Eat,please.’ His granite voice could crush diamonds.
‘I’m sure you are used to soldiers, Major General Drake, who responded well to a firm hand. You’ll find women require a gentler approach.’
‘I’ve never had any complaints about my firm hands.’ His lips twitched, and something hot and wicked sparked in his eyes. Millie had no hope of forming an adequate response to that. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for one. ‘I am not a gentle man, Millicent. Something you’ll need to accept. But neither am I needlessly cruel. You are hungry. I wish you to be fed.Please, sit and eat something before you collapse.’
It wasn’t an apology, but he was right. She was famished. And the food looked delicious. She walked over to the table as he tracked her with his pale gaze.
He watched her like a dragon watched a virgin sacrifice. Though Millie was no virgin. A card she was willing to play if Major General Drake didn’t agree to her plan. No man wanted a soiled dove, regardless of how honourable he might appear.
His intense gaze unsettled her. Millie would do well to remember the danger an astute man posed. Drake was a private investigator for the prime minister, after all. Lady Philippa had warned her against the intelligence of Prime Minister Russell’s men. She couldn’t let him guess at her activities with the duchess. Where the prime minister and his men believed in the House of Lords to exact justice, the Queen was less convinced. What would Drake think of his sovereign taking such a vigilante view of justice? Millie would never know because she would never tell him, but it was something to ponder.
Millie walked to a couch and sat carefully, making sure not to lean back against the cushions. Even with bandages, her back burned. Her training hadn’t helped in the physical healing process, but she had continued with the demanding exercises because they eased her angry soul. Her training sessions were another secret Drake would never discover. For a woman prone to honesty, Millie would need to guard her thoughts and words carefully.
