Page 59 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Renquist turned to her, his amber eyes sharp. The grey sky behind him promised rain soon. Perhaps even sleet or snow. ‘Don’t give up hope, Miss Millicent. Drake has never met his equal in a woman. Until now, I think.’
‘What a thought, Lieutenant Renquist. Equality between a man and woman. It’s almost sacrilegious.’
Reynard didn’t try to hide his smile. ‘But still true. Sometimes, you are battling, which is fearsome, as either could win or both could lose. Sometimes, you are flirting. Don’t try to deny it. Your attraction for one another is impossible to ignore. Imagine if you were working together instead of against each other. The beau monde wouldn’t know what to do with the pair of you.’
Millie swallowed, taking a moment to consider his thoughts. ‘It’s a lovely idea, but in reality, it would never work.’ There was always a disparity of power in marriage. Usually, it tipped in favour of the man, but in some cases, like her father and Patricia, the woman wielded the control. Neither option resulted in a happy union. But the idea of shared autonomy, equality in partnership, or a perfect balance of power was fantasy. Only a ninny would believe in such dreams. And Millie was no ninny.
‘Well, if you want my advice – and I doubt you do but I’ll tell you anyway – never back down, Miss Millicent. Meet him on the battlefield, knowing you are his equal and acknowledging that he is yours. If soul mates are really two halves of one whole, then neither can be more powerful. Don’t you think?’
‘I think you have a poet’s soul, Lord Renquist.’
The man’s cheeks darkened, and he rolled his shoulders as though his coat was too tight. ‘My soul is steeped in darkness,Miss Millicent. Don’t go digging too deeply into that quagmire. You may never escape.’
Millie wished she could say something to comfort him, but her mind went blank.
‘Come, let us have a race home.’ Renquist broke the suddenly serious moment, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight as if he had no care in the world but to beat Millie back to Alder House. He spurred his mount on, and Millie urged Medusa to catch him. It was a wild race, but Millie beat Lord Renquist by a nose. They returned to the house together, Millie having much to think on as she excused herself to change for the afternoon’s activities.
14
Of all the insufferable, despicable, horrific, painful tortures Drake could devise, parlour games might be at the top of his list. Therefore, it made perfect sense Patricia had planned an afternoon of such diversions to combat the bad weather.
I need to make the best of it. With all of us crammed in here, it’s prime time to observe St George and see who he talks to. I only have three days left.
Millie was proving quite the distraction to his mission. He needed to crack on with the case or risk displeasing the prime minister. Even if it meant participating in ridiculous games. Drake would prefer standing in the sleet and rain, stripped to his skin, forced to suffer the freezing temperatures than endure an afternoon of charades, blind man’s buff, and pass the slipper. Yet here he was in his cosy front parlour, standing in the centre of a ring of idiots, trying to determine who held a slipper behind their back, all in the hopes of capturing a killer.
Millie kept her gaze focused on Drake’s earlobe instead of his eyes. Dead giveaway.
‘Miss Millicent, I believe you have the slipper.’ Drake raised his scarred eyebrow at the beautiful redhead.
She pulled both hands from behind her back, holding her palms out for all to see. Empty.
Ivy pulled her hands out, a pink slipper held in her left. ‘It was me. I had the slipper.’
‘Ugh. I’m sick of this game.’ Nora rolled her eyes. ‘Let’s play something new. I know! Forfeit. And because I came up with it, I shall be the judge.’
Patricia clapped her hands, blonde ringlets bouncing with enthusiasm. ‘Capital plan!’
St George stood close to Patricia. If only she were his partner in crime. Drake would happily haul them both in front of the House of Lords to receive their punishments. Not that a secret brotherhood would allow any woman into their circle, even one as diabolical as Patricia.
‘I shall get a bowl to deposit our items.’ St George winked at Patricia, who giggled like a brainless moron.
‘Nora, you wait out in the hall.’ Patricia pointed to the door, and Nora quickly spun around and made her exit.
The duchess had declared parlour games to be asinine. Instead, she was sipping whiskey and watching the others, her red lips crimped in mild disgust.
‘Forfeit is a dangerous game unless you truly trust the players.’ Philippa arched a black eyebrow. ‘One might lose something of great importance if they aren’t willing to complete the task assigned.’
‘Of course, we trust one another.’ Godric’s waistcoat for the afternoon was a robin-egg blue. His pants were wool and dyed a glaring lime. Drake felt slightly ill looking at him. ‘Most of us are family or close enough. I hardly imagine we’d pilfer items from each other.’
Philippa stared at Godric until the man’s face turned an alarming shade of crimson, clashing terribly with his waistcoat and pants.
‘In my experience, family is the most dangerous.’ Philippa’s voice carried throughout the silent room.
Patricia’s tinkling laughter broke the spell. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! The most danger we face is Millicent stepping on someone’s toes with her large feet.’
Drake glared at Millie’s stepmother.
Patricia – oblivious to the threat she faced – held up a gorgeously inlaid box of dark wood decorated with jade that St George had found. ‘Quick, everyone put something in the box before Nora returns.’
