She wanted a place to stop and rest. A place to settle herself. Milly had often dreamed of a cottage somewhere, a small place that was hers where she would be safe. Grand houses were no longer in her dreams. No, she wanted to go somewhere no one would know the old Milly, just the new one. Miss Higglesworth.
She did not want to think about Joseph again. The man he had become in the last four years. The flashes of humor, the arrogant earl who issued orders and expected them obeyed. The man with flashes of vulnerability that he believed no one saw. But she had seen them. She’d always noticed everything about him. Did she still love him? Milly wasn’t entirely sure she knew what love was any more. She should be angry with him for knowing her identity and teasing and tormenting her, but she was not. He was angry about what she had done, and for him this had been revenge.
Closing her eyes, she let the thoughts come and go, and the feelings wash through her.
“Well now, this is not a place I expected to find you, Miss Higglesworth.”
Milly’s eyes sprang open at the deep words. She’d fallen asleep. Dear God, had she missed the stage? Looking up the long legs braced before her, she encountered the steady green gaze of Lord Ellsworth.
“No answer, Miss Higglesworth?” His words were calm, as if he addressed her over the tea table, and not on a cold, miserable morning in a church entrance.
“You did not pose a question, my lord,” Milly said, surprised she could speak so calmly when she knew that he was now aware of her identity. Was he aware? She tried to see his expression clearly. She had certainly believed so last night, and yet surely if he did know he would not be addressing her as Miss Higglesworth. Had she been rash in her need to leave?
Milly attempted to straighten her legs, and hissed in pain as fiery needles shot up them. Numbness had crept into them from being curled under her while she slept. Reaching for her bag, she braced it before her.
“Why are you sleeping here, Miss Higglesworth, with your bag, when you have a bed in the Wimplestow house?”
Deciding she was at a disadvantage sitting through a conversation with this particular man, she attempted to stand. Two hands lifted her before she could do so.
“Thank you.” Milly attempted to stomp some feeling into her limbs.
“Now perhaps you could answer my question.”
“I have received word that an aunt is ill, so I am leaving to be with her.” If he knew her identity, he would now call her on the lie, surely. If not, she would leave anyway, because she knew that one day he may realize who she was.
The collar of his heavy coat was up, and drops of rain covered the thick fabric. His dark hair was wet and curled over the brim of his hat. Even now, in such conditions, he looked large and imposing.
Don’t look at him, she reminded herself. She was not at her strongest at that moment. Leaving the Wimplestow family had made her weepy.
“I must leave, my lord, as I am due to catch the stage.”
“You have missed it.”
Joseph had tried to find Milly at the ball, and in the end had asked Apple-blossom, who had told him she had left due to an ill aunt. Milly had one aunt, who he had left behind in London, healthy as an ox. He did not believe she had received word to the contrary. Apple-blossom had then told her that much to her sadness, Milly was leaving Spindle in the morning. Strangely, she had then given him a steady, assessing look before walking away.
Joseph had then left the ball himself and returned to Greyton, where he had not slept well. Rising before dawn, he had pulled on his clothes and left the house. He had ridden into Spindle, because he knew Milly intended to leave on the first stage and he was not going to let her.
After rousing the sleeping woman at the Spindle Inn, he confirmed Milly had bought a ticket. He’d then set about finding her.
The church had been his last hope, and he’d found her huddled on the church steps. Her glasses were pushed upward, cheeks padded, bonnet damp and drooping, and Joseph had not wanted to feel the sharp pain inside his chest. She’d sat curled into the smallest ball she could. Feet tucked under her, hands wrapped around her body, and he knew this was to stay warm. He didn’t want this for her, Joseph realized. But what, then, did he want? Retribution?No, the truth.
“I-I… are you sure?”
“I am.”
She was about to walk around him, but he grabbed her arm. “I know who you are, my lady.” The silence that followed these words was thick with tension. She’d averted her face, so he could read nothing from her expression.
“How long have you known?”
“Since the night I found you.”
She stepped away from him.
“And you did not tell me then, as you wished to seek retribution for the wrongs I caused you?” She faced him now, chin raised, her words cold and flat. “You wished to see me suffer, my lord, as I made you suffer?”
The words were not spoken loudly, but Joseph heard each clearly, and with the accuracy they were intended.
“I concede that my treatment of you was shabby, but what now, Lord Ellsworth? Am I to be paraded before someone for your benefit, so you may see me humiliated further?”
