Chapter Fourteen
Shewas ready when the butler knocked to tell her they were to leave for London shortly. Milly had allowed her hair to be scrubbed many times until it was clean and the natural color had returned. Her scalp ached, and the headache that had been a niggle was now raging. She had sat on the bed and eaten the tray of food left for her, but had not rested. She was too tense for that. Joseph wanted the truth, but she did not want to give it to him.
Whatever was in those papers, she doubted it was more than debts, and her father’s words begging forgiveness. She would go to London, because now he was dead. Perhaps Joseph was right and the danger had passed. If that was indeed the case, then she could allow herself to find a place to settle. Once she had read them, she would leave and find somewhere quiet to go. She could finally, hopefully, stop running.
Perhaps a position as governess in a country house? There were many wealthy people who were not peers who sought governesses for their daughters.
Milly did not dwell on how Joseph had withheld the news of her father’s death. He was angry with her, and believed his actions justified. They were not. But it no longer mattered.
She did not mourn for the late Marquess. He had been a cold man, and ultimately it had been his greed that had changed the course of her life. He had forced her to flee London, or face a future with a man who was no better or—Milly believed—decidedly worse than him. A man who would stoop at anything to have her.
A knock on the door had her rising. She found a maid when she opened it.
“Lord Ellsworth wishes you to wear this, my lady.”
Milly took the heavy blue velvet cloak and gloves from the maid. Had it belonged to Eleanor? She had not worn anything so fine in a long time, and as she was no fool, she would not refuse to wear it now. This would keep her warm, as her thin, damp coat could not.
“Your bonnet is damp, my lady—”
“I shall not need a bonnet. Thank you for your help.”
“You are welcome, my lady.”
The maid left after Milly refused again to let her style her hair. A simple braid would do, as it had for many years.
Pulling on the cloak, she did up the toggles. Milly had long since forgone her vanity, as there was no need to look her best, and in doing this, she had realized just how self-obsessed she had once been. The gloves were lined with fur, and she sighed at the blissful feeling she once would have taken for granted.
It was also a relief not to push in her cheek rolls or wear the glasses. Not that she would admit that to Joseph. Passing the mirror, she allowed herself a quick glance, and saw her hair was once again the color it had been. She saw her pale cheeks and the dark smudges beneath her eyes, but little else. Milly did not look in mirrors much anymore. Often she did not recognize the person staring back at her.
“Dear God, let this be the last leg of my journey,” she whispered. Then, taking two deep breaths, she willed the throbbing in her head to ease and left the room.
She walked the halls, and down the stairs to the front entrance. The carriage stood in readiness. Beside it was Lord Ellsworth’s horse. Milly was relieved that she would not travel alone with him in carriage.
“Are you ready?”
She did not turn at his words, instead nodding and walking to the carriage. He beat her there, his hand reaching the handle first.
“Allow me, my lady.”
She did not look at him or acknowledge his use of her title; instead she climbed inside, and he shut the door with a soft click behind her.
Milly did not look at Greyton as they left; she doubted she would ever return there. She had learned that too, not to look back or wish for what she could not have.
The rain had stopped, but the day was still cold and gray, just like her thoughts. Her future was again uncertain, although now she was to approach it with some degree of comfort. Running her hands over the fine velvet of the cloak, she closed her eyes rather than look at the tall, straight figure of the man who rode beside her window. She rested her aching head.
She must have slept, because when she opened her eyes he was seated across from her, and the rain was coming down again. He looked composed and comfortable, and Milly tried to appear the same, when inside she was anything but.
“We will stop for the night, and then on to London tomorrow.”
Milly was not one to wake with all her faculties in perfect working order. She never had, no matter how hard she tried. Often she needed a few minutes—actually more like thirty—to find her feet. Blinking, she attempted to gather herself. It would not do to let her guard down with this man.
“Tell me why you left London, as now I am sure there was no other man.”
“No.” Milly’s heart was suddenly beating hard in her chest.
“Your father was known to gamble, was it something to do with that?”
Dear Lord.
