Chapter Three
Millybrushed a hand over Daisy’s head to calm her as she snuffled in answer to her raised voice. The little dog instantly settled and rested her ugly little face on Milly’s thigh.
Dear Lord! He had no idea who rode before him. He was an earl now, Lord Ellsworth, the man who, had things been different, she would now be wed to. The man she had loved with every inch of her foolish innocent heart, as he had loved her. Thus far, he had not recognized her, and to ensure that did not happen she needed to avoid looking at him until she could leave, or at least put in her cheek rolls and add padding to her hips. Thankfully she had worn her glasses, and remembered to lisp.
Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, she prayed that perfidious, foul creature Mr. Pestle had not decided to pursue her. She also hoped his head hurt from the clout she had given it with her book. Odious creature. How dared he force his attentions on her after his wife had offered Milly a room for the night.
“Just your name, Miss Higglesworth, nothing more taxing than that.”
It had been four years since she had ended their betrothal and fled London. Four years where she had gleaned nothing about those she had left behind but snatches of conversation.
This man had once been the sole reason for her happiness. In him she had found everything she had craved: love and affection.
Milly’s father had been a cold, unemotive man, unlike Joseph, who had laughed and loved openly. Raised in a nurturing environment, unlike her, he had been to her innocent eyes a man worthy of her devotion.
“Come now, take a deep breath and tell me.”
Milly had always loved Joseph’s voice. Deep, and smooth like warmed brandy. He’d once whispered sweet words into her ear, and spoken of a future she would now never have. That future had been for a woman far removed from the one she had become.
For four years she had managed to avoid anyone who would recognize her. Four years of running from the danger her father’s perfidy had thrown her into. Only by using her wits had she stayed a step ahead of the man who pursued her. But in doing so, she had walked away from this man and her chance at happiness.
At least Joseph had not recognized her, and indeed, why should he? She was nothing like the society miss she had once been. Innocent and naive were no longer words she could lay claim to. The world she had stepped into had changed that.
“My name is Milly, my lord.” She felt safe giving him an abbreviated version.
“And I am Joseph,” he said softly.
“It would be impertinent of me to call you so.”
“Possibly, and yet as I have given you permission to do so, then I’m sure between us it is acceptable.”
The arm around her pulled her closer as she tried to sit upright. She did not want to feel the hard-muscled planes of his chest against her back, nor the wonderful warmth of the arms wrapped around her. She didn’t need the comfort or protection he could offer her anymore. Couldn’t allow herself to need it. There would never be comfort for her in anyone’s arms again.
“Milly is pretty, and more than compensates for your last name. I’m greatly relieved.”
She tried to ease her back away from his chest. The contact was disturbing. In fact, this entire situation was disturbing. Almost unbelievable, and yet here she sat before the one man she had vowed never to see again.
“You will get a stiff back if you keep fidgeting. Not to mention that every time you lean forward, a cold blast of air cools my chest.”
She would stay with him until the chance to slip away presented itself. The humiliation of this man becoming aware of her identity was more than she could bear. He would also have questions that she could never answer.
“What do you do with your time, Milly?”
He held on to the last syllable of her name, as if in a song.
“I am a governess.”
“And?”
“I do not have time to spare.”
“I’m sure you must have some time.”
“I like to read, my lord.”
“My sister made me read Miss Primrose’s latest horror just last week.Madam Lilith’s Tomb of Terror. I have to say I struggled with the continual lopping off of limbs. However, the overall story was well written.”
His words surprised a snuffle from her. Perhaps it was the tiredness that was making her light-headed. After all, here she was seated upon a horse before one of the wealthiest peers in London, a man whom she had once loved desperately, discussing his reading preferences. She would take this brief moment in time to be with him again. He would never realize who rode before him; why would he? He had long since forgotten Lady Millicent Lawrence, society darling. Woman who had betrayed him.
