Page 22 of The Secret Suitor

“Nothing…it is only Lord Finsbury. I had thought—” She shook her head. “It is no matter.”

“You thought he might have penned your letters?”

Plural. So Millie had shared them with Nell. It was not a surprise, of course. It was only silly that Wesley believed himself to be Millie’s sole confidant in this matter. He should have been glad she trusted the information to others as well. If the person leaving the notes had ill intentions, it would be helpful for others to be aware of the situation. Not that Wesley imagined anyone would wish to harm Millie. She was nothing if not kind and friendly to all.

“Clearly it was not him,” Millie said, glancing again at Lord Finsbury before turning her back to him. “At least I may strike him from my list.”

“You composed a list?” Nell asked.

“Not a written one, of course. I could not risk it being found.”

“Very wise,” Wesley said. “The offender might happen upon the list while he roams your bedchamber.”

“If he did, he could assist in your hunt and circle his name,” Nell returned.

Millie laughed. “If he wanted to be helpful, he would approach me immediately and betray himself.”

Nell nodded as though she agreed. “He clearly wishes to make this something of a game. Otherwise, what purpose would he have for remaining anonymous?”

“The ability to flirt with whomever he wished,” Oliver suggested.

They turned as a group and watched Lord Finsbury bow dramatically to Miss Stroud before he returned to Lord and Lady Weymouth, his good friends. He remained there, chatting amiably.

“No,” Millie said. “I do not think he would go to such lengths without reason. The person who wrote those notes was intentional. They were thinking of me. The baron is merely a flirt.”

Indeed, from Wesley’s vantage point, it appeared Lord Finsbury was teasing Lord and Lady Weymouth, his friends, as well. The man could not be taken seriously, that was for certain.

When Wesley glanced at Millie, he found her frowning.

“Would you like tea?” Oliver asked his cousin.

She nodded, and he left to procure her a cup.

Wesley moved closer to Millie’s side, looking to Nell as he did so. “Do not despair, Mildred. You would not choose such a flirt for a husband, anyway, would you?”

“It is nice to feel admired, Weslington.”

Wesley suppressed a chuckle at the ridiculous name. “You are being admired by the person who wrote that poem. Chestnut hair? Eyes that outshine firelight? I think this person must think highly of your beauty.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “You remember it well for someone who only glanced at the note.”

“Quite suspicious, brother,” Nell said.

“I could not recite it for you, but those details were difficult to forget.”

Millie raised one sleek, dark eyebrow. “Because they were ridiculous?”

Wesley cleared his throat. He could easily tell her he recalled those details because they rang true for him when he read the note, but he did not want her to think he felt strongly for her. Neither did he want his sister to be audience to such a conversation.

The way Millie’s round, dark brown eyes were set on him now, though, he could say nothing but the truth.

“They were not ridiculous, Millie.”

Her breath caught, eyes gazing up at him, and his body tightened, fighting the impulse to lean toward her. What the deuce had come over him?

Wesley was saved from further conversation by the return of Oliver with two cups of tea. He handed one to Millie and the other to Nell.

But Wesley still could not remove from his mind how pleasant it felt to have Millie’s full attention.