Page 32 of The Secret Suitor

“You have two different choices, Millie.” Nell put up her fingers, counting off. “You may either put the entire thing from your mind and enjoy your time at Bellthorne Hall, or you may set a trap to find the man and put the matter to rest.”

“I would rather set a trap.”

Wesley made a humming sound, as though he was in opposition to that idea. Which was unfair, because it was his idea to begin with. But he was precluded from speaking further on the subject when cheers rang out in the group ahead of them, a winner being crowned for their round of the cheese roll.

“Well done, Mr. Stroud,” someone called from the group, and Millie’s head whipped toward them.

The entire Stroud family—all four of them—were mixed into a small group with a handful of others from the house, and it appeared the junior Mr. Stroud had come off victor. His face was flushed, whether from the thrill of winning or the cold, Millie did not know, and his smile was bright. When his eyes caught hers, he seemed to find another surge of confidence, for his grin only grew.

“Goodness,” Millie breathed. “He is beaming.”

“Do you blame the man?” Wesley muttered. “He won a game in front of a woman he is trying to impress.”

Millie shot him a look before following Helena and Charles toward the starting line. They passed the elder Strouds, but the younger Mr. Stroud remained at the line, holding the wheel of cheese he won for being the person to roll it the farthest. His sister stood beside him, her wide bonnet shielding her eyes from the sun. She wore a pale pink gown beneath a mustard pelisse.

“Well done, Mr. Stroud,” Millie said.

His smile grew wider. “Thank you, Miss Hollis.”

Miss Stroud’s mouth flattened into a thin line. She looked beyond them to the Prescotts, allowing the sun to highlight the golden curls at her temples. “We decided to stay and watch you play, Mr. Prescott.”

Wesley accepted this easily, his expression guarding his thoughts. If Mr. Stroud disliked his sister’s seeming implication that he, too, would like to watch Wesley play, he did not betray her by saying so.

“Would you like to play again, Miss Stroud?” Helena offered. “It is your chance to redeem yourself.”

Miss Stroud looked at Wesley. “Perhaps I shall.”

It took great effort for Millie not to sigh. She shared a look with Nell, who did not appear pleased. “The woman is angling to become your new sister-in-law.”

Nell lowered her voice. “It would not be so terrible if she acted more sincerely toward me, but I know she is only polite because of how greatly she esteems my brother.”

Millie tried to look at Miss Stroud through the eyes of a man, but all she could see was an irritating young woman who only valued people for what they could offer her. In reality, Miss Stroud had done nothing to warrant that opinion above disliking Millie and being overly nice to Nell. “Is she the sort of female your brother would like?”

Nell shrugged. “He has not shown a preference for any woman, save you.”

The comment was startling. “When has he shown a preference for me?”

“This entire house party thus far.” Nell looked beyond her, where Miss Stroud was speaking to Wesley. They both accepted a roll of cheese from the man doling them out to the line of participants, and Miss Stroud held hers against Wesley’s, likely measuring the difference. More likely, she was using it as an excuse to place their hands near each other.

It made Millie’s body tighten in irritation.

“Have you not noticed?” Nell asked.

“He is merely helping me identify my secret suitor. He has not sought me out for any other purpose.”

Nell looked suspicious, but the man handing out cheese reached them and provided each woman with a wheel to use, thus ending the conversation. The group lined up along the grass, taking their positions.

“The person to roll their cheese the farthest wins,” the man announced down the line.

Wesley glanced at Millie, lifting an eyebrow. Was he challenging her? There were a handful of people between them, but he had looked directly at Millie. She straightened her back, shaking her head slightly. When she put her attention back on the cheese, obtaining the best hold on it, Nell was smirking at her.

“That was nothing,” Millie hissed.

“Admit it,” Nell whispered. “He is being awfully attentive.”

“Yes, to you: the person he is meant to chaperone.”

“Ready?” the cheese man called. “Roll!”