Page 19 of The Secret Suitor

“What do you mean?”

Betty helped her out of her day dress and into a dinner gown of emerald with a slight train and sleeves that reached her elbows. It had embroidery along the trim and slight ruching on the front that made her appear mature and elegant. Against her dark hair, the green was rich and festive.

“If this person had nothing to hide, why would they refuse to sign their name?” Betty asked. “It is not appropriate to receive a letter from a man to whom one is not engaged.”

“That could be precisely why he has not signed the notes. Until we are engaged, it is not seemly to be writing to me, so he is protecting my good name.” Millie felt a glow begin in her midsection and spread throughout her body. Whoever this man was, he certainly had her best interests in mind.

Betty did not seem nearly as convinced. She completed Millie’s hair and helped her into her slippers in silence.

A door snapped closed somewhere in the corridor, so Millie snatched her gloves from where they lay on the bed and hurried from her room. “Thank you, Betty.”

Movement in the corridor stole her gaze, and she momentarily lost her trail of thought. She had hurried out of her room in order to catch Wesley and ask if he had seen anything suspicious earlier, but the outline of his body as it moved away made the words lodge in her throat. He had a powerful walk, a breadth of shoulders she recalled easily from the day she stepped in on him shaving.

He must have heard her, because he turned, glancing over his shoulder. Light glowed over his face from a candle on a wall sconce, making his green eyes burn golden with the reflection.

“Mildred,” he said, bowing low.

She pressed her lips together, suppressing her irritation, and marched toward him. “Wesleyford.”

He barked a laugh. “What did you call me?”

“If you insist on using my name in that manner, I will do the same for you.”

He blinked. “But I am stating your full given name.”

“As am I.”

Wesley shook his head. “Shall we go down to dinner?”

“Actually, I hoped to speak to you.”

His green eyes cut to her lips before finding her eyes again. “Oh?”

“I’ve received another letter.” She fished it from her pocket and opened it, briefly showing the handwriting to him.

Wesley’s expression flattened. “Did your maid see the man?”

“No. I was hoping you might have noticed any unusual movement in this part of the house.”

“The only man I saw in the corridor today was Oliver Cole, and his room is just beyond mine.”

“He is also my cousin,” she said flatly. “I know it is not him.”

“Could he be playing some jest upon you?”

“He would not tease me in this nature,” Millie said with every confidence. Oliver was one of her closest friends. He would never make sport of her feelings so cruelly.

Wesley shrugged. “Then I am of no use.”

“Drat.” She pulled the letter back, but Wesley pinched the corner, reluctant to release it. “You would like to read it?” she asked.

“It might help me know who to look for. I could recognize the handwriting or style of speech.”

That was a fair observation. She waited, watching his eyes move along the lines of the poem. Taking advantage of her free hands, Millie slid on her gloves for dinner, pulling the white silk up her arm.

Wesley’s eyes dropped to her hands, watching them move. He waited until she finished to hand back the note. “It is certainly very…flowery.”

“Oh, did you notice the seal?” Millie turned it around. “Blue wax with a floral seal. Do you recognize it?”