Ridiculous (39 page)

“Do you have something to say that I wish to hear, Wentworth?” asked Shoffer.

Maude’s suitor. Millicent’s stomach unclenched. That little weasel was so self-concerned that he would pay little mind to other people’s troubles.

Still, Wentworth’s presence was annoying. Shoffer was as aware as Millicent of the youth’s pathetic courtship of Maude and was just as offended. The boy had to have some spine to still be standing there having endured the ducal stare.

“I was hoping to have private speech with Mr. North, regarding his cousin,” stammered Wentworth.

“Oh? Well, here he is.” Shoffer stepped to one side permitting Millicent to see Wentworth for the first time. “Are not such private conversations traditionally conducted in a gentleman’s study during the daylight hours? I was not aware that they were conducted in public venues.”

Wentworth had the grace to blush. “Please do not misunderstand. It is not
that
conversation, exactly.” He met Millicent’s eye. “If I might have a moment of your time?”

Millicent folded her arms across her chest. “I do not know that I wish to speak to you, Wentworth, on any subject. I do know that my cousin is saddened by the mere mention of your name. Why should I subject myself to your company?”

“Please? Sir, it may not be important to you, but it is life’s breath to me.”

The youth went paler and looked, to Millicent’s older and wiser eye, near to tears with some soul deep distress. Very poetic, to be sure, but not much use.

Millicent groaned and glanced toward the ceiling. “Dear God, spare me from… Oh, very well. Come along. Shoffer, do you have any suggestions where this gentleman might have private speech with me?”

Shoffer considered the request. The card room would be crowded and any stray corner at this hour of the night was likely to be occupied by those determined to engage in a little scandalous activity.

“The garden it will have to be,” Shoffer declared. “Thank God it is not raining.”

Shoffer gestured toward the nearest French window leading out onto the terrace. Millicent led off, followed by Wentworth. To that young man’s increasing distress, Shoffer trailed along behind. Millicent permitted herself a small smile. There was no way Wentworth would be able to summon the spine to dismiss a duke should he choose to join the conversation.

From the terrace, they descended into the garden, choosing a path that was better lit than the others. The deeper dark of the garden was reserved for lovers. Eventually, Millicent stopped where a set of stone chairs were arranged about a fountain and chose the one that looked like a throne for herself, permitting the other two men to arrange themselves as they saw fit. Wentworth remained seated for a heartbeat only. He leapt back to his feet and began pacing. Shoffer and Millicent watched him without sympathy.

Eventually, Wentworth could endure the silence no longer.

“Has Maude any other relatives?” he demanded.

“Besides me? Beside her mother and sisters?” Millicent leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. “Interesting. Why would you concern yourself with Miss Maude Boarder’s family?”

Wentworth closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “Indulge me, please. Has she any elderly aunts or such that would be willing to state they have included her in their wills? Some grandparent or uncle of good estate near to death?”

Millicent and Shoffer exchanged appalled glances.

“No. Not a single solitary soul,” said Millicent.

“Are you certain? Think again!”

Millicent regarded him solemnly. “I should be expected to know my family tree. Frankly, in this generation it is more like a twig, a walking stick than a tree. Think of something with very, very few branches and even fewer of them with funds.”

With an agonized cry, Wentworth sank onto a bench, his head in his hands. Shoffer and Millicent exchanged a long, steady glance.

“Is he ill, do you think?” asked Millicent.

“We can only hope.”

Wentworth shook himself and sat up. “Please understand my distress. I have only one hope, that Maude did not know the extent of her finances. But it seems what she told me was the complete truth.” Wentworth turned eyes as wet and watery as uncooked egg on Millicent. “A mere five thousand in the Exchange? Perhaps she misunderstood and it is five thousand per annum?”

“You impudent pup,” cried Shoffer coming to his feet. “Is this how you approach a gentleman about his cousin’s
dowry
? About settlements? How dare you…”

“Peace, Shoffer,” Millicent rose and stopped Shoffer in his tracks by placing one hand on his solid chest. Her fingers tingled with the remembered pleasure of the previous night. For a moment she could not remember where she was or what she had been about to say, but could only stare at her lover. Shoffer caught her distraction and grinned at her. Then they both shook themselves and turned to face a pale Wentworth, who fortunately noticed nothing amiss.

“I am so very sorry, Mr. North,” said Wentworth. “Not for anything would I lose your good opinion. I spoke to my father about Maude and he demanded that I get reliable information about the extent of your estate and responsibilities. I tried to assure him that you held your cousins in high esteem and would provide for them when they married, but he said you were still young and could marry yourself and would, of necessity, keep all your wealth to impress your wife’s family. My only hope was there was another relative who could write a letter to my father and assure him that Maude was an heiress.”

“And I thought I was the oddest fellow in London,” said Millicent. “Here is a man who seems to be well ahead of himself. He is imagining that he will receive money from me and my hypothetical family. I am at a loss to think as to why I should do this.”

“Oh. I thought you understood. It is only because of her paltry dowry that I have not yet offered for Maude.”

“Miss Boarder to you!” Millicent shot a burning look at Shoffer. “You are closer; you hit him!”

Shoffer reached out and slapped a hand over the back of Wentworth’s skull. The youth paled at the insult implied by the location of the blow. Obviously, Shoffer considered him unworthy of a blow to the face.

“You insolent little pup,” said Millicent mildly, while Wentworth clutched at his head. “You have never entered my home to chat with the ladies when they are at-home. You have never called to take Maude riding in the park, nor appeared at her side at any public venue except for the duration of a dance. In short, you have never performed any of the usual courtship courtesies. And now you are here whimpering that the girl is too poor for your consideration! Am I supposed to cry ‘Oh, I must increase her portion so that this idiot, this beggar, this weak and pitiable example of a wastrel will find her worthy of receiving his hand?’ Do you know, I do not believe that will happen.”

“It is my father that insists that the girl I marry have a certain amount of the ready,” cried Wentworth.

This time Shoffer did not wait for Millicent’s command and again slapped the youth, this time over the ears. The contempt in that gesture as well as the stinging pain brought tears to the boy’s eyes.

“I say, Shoffer. That is uncalled for,” said Wentworth.

“What? Are you going to take offense? Are you going to call me out?” Shoffer stepped closer and glared down at the younger man, who cringed away. “I thought not. Go away you pitiful excuse of a gentleman.”

“And stay away from Miss Boarder!” added Millicent, as Wentworth scuttled away.

Millicent waited until the boy was out of sight before giggling.

“Silly fool.”

“You best be careful,” warned Shoffer. “If he approaches Maude as a wounded and rejected suitor, he may persuade her to improper behavior in the hope that after marriage he might be able to compel more funds from you. Or compromise her and threaten not to do the right thing in order to blackmail you.”

“Maude is no fool.”

“My dear North, London is filled with families who believed that their daughters had more sense than to be taken in, and found to their regret that young girls quickly forget their lessons when faced with poetic eyes and soulful glances.”

“Really?” said Millicent, looking at him over her shoulder. “Then I should warn
all
the women of my family to beware any man who seeks to persuade them to do something their good sense advises they should not.”

Shoffer snorted. “I do not mean you and me.”

“I suppose not,” said Millicent with a laugh, then she sighed and stared up along the garden path. “Poor Maude, she liked him, even when she did not want to.”

“She shall do better. They both will. A gentleman will come who will value them for their many talents and good sense.”

“Ah. Perhaps I should warn you. A certain gentleman has taken an interest in Mildred.”

Shoffer’s eyebrows winged up. “Oh? Why do I need to be warned?”

“Mr. Simpson has been visiting my house quite often since Mildred has asked his aid in arranging her first
ton
event.”

“So? That means nothing. I asked him to keep himself available should your family have need of him.”

“He is spending his free hours in my front parlor choosing table linens and discussing flower arrangements for a tea party,” said Millicent with a smirk.

“Oh, by God,” cried Shoffer, clutching at his heart. “The man is sunk.”

“Exactly my thought.”

They stood staring at each other, then both burst into shared laughter at the fall of another bachelor. The laughter faded, but their gazes held.

“Millicent,” whispered Shoffer and took a step toward her.

“Ah. Ha ha!” Millicent retreated, waving a finger at him. “No. No. No. Do not use that name!”

Shoffer’s eyes darkened and his gaze settled first on her lips, then traveled down her form. There were no curves to admire, but his memory of what was hidden under the layers of cloth was excellent and warmed his blood.

“I beg you; come, spend the night with me.”

“We cannot,” cried Millicent.

“Please. Do you not desire me? Last night did we not all the passions prove?”

“Do all your family come over Shakespearian when crossed?”

“Please, the quote is Mallory, not Shakespeare,” said Shoffer and he smiled, a slow curving of the lip revealing a hint of perfect teeth. A predator’s confident smile.

 Millicent could feel her legs weakening and heat pooling in her loins; she could barely force herself to continue backing away. She desired him too much. One taste of the forbidden fruit only had increased her hunger.

 “How? And where?” she cried. “We cannot go to your mistresses’ place. Two men arriving late at night? The story would be around London before dawn. There is no place for us to go to be together. How could we do it? I cannot change clothing in your carriage, your footmen would notice. I cannot bring you to my home, my family would know. Stop that. You are not listening to me.”

Shoffer smiled, ignored her words and continued walking and Millicent continued to back away, not noticing that the section of the garden they were in grew darker and was enclosed by high hedges. Shoffer moved closer, his arms outstretched. Millicent shook her head and tried to dodge only to find herself blocked on every side.

“We cannot,” she protested even as Shoffer laid siege upon her lips, dragging his hands over her body.

Masculine clothing was no barrier to his exploration. Her shirt was unbuttoned in a trice and his teeth seized and tormented her nipples until she writhed and bit her own lip to keep in her cries. His hand caught and cupped her buttocks, kneading and squeezing even as he lifted her up onto the base of a statue. The falls of her trousers were undone to permit the invasion of his fingers. Even as she melted under his assault, he drew down her trews to her ankles, parted her thighs and plunged.

“You cannot. You cannot,” she gasped, even as her hot, velvet canal clenched about his shaft.

“I beg you,” Shoffer slowed his movements with a groan, and pressed his face against her neck. “I need you.”

“No children.”

The relief that swept through him almost brought him to pleasure at that moment.

“Trust me,” he gasped and thrust anew.

Millicent clung to him, arms, legs holding him tight in her embrace as her head fell back. She could not move with him, trapped as she was between statue and solid man. She could only endure the rising heat, the burning pressure as he filled and retreated. She could not escape the pleasure when it came, but trembled helplessly as it tore through her body. She barely noticed that Shoffer withdrew from her with a curse to spend himself upon the ground.

They stayed together as their breathing slowed. Millicent was the first to move, pushing Shoffer’s face away from his resting place on her neck.

“You have quite destroyed my cravat,” she complained.

Shoffer laughed and kissed her. “Who would be able to tell?”

“Brummel,” was the reply and he laughed.

They separated and made use of a small fountain nearby to cleanse themselves.

“We cannot do this again,” declared Millicent as she straightened her clothing. Shoffer merely nodded. “I am serious. We have been gone from the party too long and suspicions will be aroused. Whatever happened to not living in each other’s pockets?”

“We shall return to the party separately the better to preserve your reputation.” Shoffer saw Millicent’s hand go up and dodged back out of range. “You should be more careful, my dear North. Slap anyone other than me and it might be misunderstood as a challenge.”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment, not lowering her hand. “Shall we have trouble with Wentworth?”

“That pup? Challenging either of us? No, that will not happen. He has not the courage!”

“I shall watch for him in any event.” Millicent finished buttoning up the falls of her trousers. “You should go in first.”

“Oh, no. I shall not leave you alone in this darkness. Who knows what might befall you. You go in. I shall watch to see that you are safe.”

“What? Some lecher will fall on me from the shadows and have his way with me? That terrible event has already befallen.” Millicent shook her head. “You will have to stop being so protective, Shoffer; someone will notice. In any event, you will not be able to watch over me after next week. I shall be gone.”