Page 35 of The Secret Suitor

He watched Millie tell Mr. Kendrick excitedly of her recent acquisition, a book of poems by Thomas Gray her father had purchased for her. It was clear Wesley’s dislike for Mr. Kendrick had more to do with his attentive nature to Millie than anything he might have done.

These thoughts and feelings were beginning to race out of his control, like a wheel of cheese escaping down a hill, one he could not keep up with. It was an uncomfortable prospect to find oneself absorbed with jealousy over a woman who was meant to be a good friend of the family. Especially when the woman in question was doing her best to find a husband, and she had multiple suitors—both anonymous and upfront.

Wesley stood abruptly, his food forgotten, and garnered attention from every person in the room—both those in his immediate party and others who had wandered in separately. He bowed, turned on his heel, and fled with no explanation.

Millie was burrowing into his thoughts, and he would do well to find a way to extricate her entirely.

Thus far, every attempt Wesley made to push Millie from his mind came to naught. He spent an unreasonable amount of time wandering the long gallery admiring the paintings, but that only made him think of the silhouettes they had drawn last night. That had been the moment she began to accept Mr. Kendrick’s attention. In an effort to put her from his mind again, Wesley took himself to the billiards room, but as Charles had noted last night, it was not a distraction to play the game by oneself.

Devil take it, Wesley had landed himself in a fine mess. No matter what he did to distract himself, he could not deny that Millie remained at the forefront of his thoughts. He ought to go in search of Nell to ascertain whether she was well, but she had Millie and the library at her disposal. While she was with a trusted group, he felt she was safe. Despite his reservations, he did not want to come in the way of her finding a suitor if that was her wish, but he still found himself worrying over her happiness and safety.

Wesley wandered toward the library, hoping to listen to the voices within and note if Millie and Mr. Kendrick were still inside, but upon his arrival, he found the room silent.

A stillness crept over his body, for silence could only mean one of two things: either the room was empty, or Nell had opted not to join Millie and Mr. Kendrick in the library and they were alone. If they were silent…Wesley did not want to consider the implications of that. He pushed open the door swiftly, looking frantically around the room, but the only movement he found was the flickering fire in the hearth.

He was a fool. Sighing, he took himself to a plush chair near the fireplace and slumped in it, rubbing a hand over his face. Why had he allowed himself to imagine Mr. Kendrick taking advantage of Millie? She was too wise to permit any man such liberties. Especially one she knew so little.

Unless she hoped to kiss him and learn if they had a connection.

Wesley’s jaw clenched so hard, his teeth hurt. He inhaled, letting it out slowly as he closed his eyes.

The more troubling of his thoughts was how deeply he had been bothered by the prospect. Wesley could no longer deny the way he felt in regard to her. He no longer wanted to convince himself it was not reality. Millie had fully captured his attention, taking up more space in his mind than any other subject.

But…why her exactly? Wesley exhaled. It was not truly a puzzle. He could not deny that her swift wit, gentle humor, and beauty had all drawn him in.

If Lady Dalmeer had engaged true Christmas magic to ensure no one left her house a single person by Twelfth Night, it was certainly working on Wesley. He had only been there for five days, and already he had found himself attached to a woman he had previously only looked at in passing.

The house party had not yet reached the halfway mark, the point when his mother likely expected a full report on where things stood with Nell, but she would undoubtedly appreciate one sooner anyway. He helped himself to the writing desk tucked against the wall and pulled open the drawer, where he found a stack of thick paper. After gathering the rest of the supplies he would need, he set the seal on the table beside red sealing wax and grew still. The floral design caught his attention, and the image of Millie’s letter from her mysterious gentleman came to mind. Her paper had been sealed with blue wax—the likes of which he had never seen—but the floral seal looked precisely like the one he now held in his hand.

Had her anonymous admirer written his letters in this very room? Or did he merely possess the same seal as Lady Dalmeer? Where had he come upon blue wax, and why did he use it?

Wesley set the items back in the desk, for the letter could wait another day, and slid the seal into his pocket.

Then he went in search of Millie.

Chapter Twelve

Millie’s time in the library had been short-lived, but that had not bothered her in the least. After Wesley had stormed out of the dining room, she had debated going after him. But if anyone present was going to follow him to ask if he was well, it would have been his sister, and she had not moved. Nell had watched him leave with a heavy dose of confusion, but neither she nor Millie knew what bee had flown into Wesley’s mind and why he had been so upset. Nell was not worried, however. Wesley had always been stalwart and silent. If something was weighing on him, it was natural for him to work through it on his own.

Yet, Millie could not help but think about it. Had she offended him? Failed to include him? It was more likely his sudden upset had nothing to do with her at all, but she could not help worrying.

Wesley had taken up residence in her mind, and no topic of conversation seemed to eclipse him. All she wanted was to put her schoolgirl feelings in the past and leave them there, but Wesley had a hold on her no other man had yet to replicate. The excitement from opening anonymous letters could not even compare to how greatly she enjoyed being with Wesley.

Since arriving at this house party, he had begun to treat her as an equal. Millie did not want it to end.

Mr. Stroud stood upon Millie’s entrance in the drawing room, his golden hair gleaming in the flickering candlelight. He wore a waistcoat of emerald green and looked handsome. A pucker formed between his eyebrows, giving him an air of concern.

Goodness, what was it now? The music he wrote was not coming together well enough? Did he believe Millie had feigned her promise to listen to him play his original song? They had more than a week before the musicale. She had not made an empty commitment.

“Shall we find a small group and put together a round of whist?” Mr. Kendrick offered, stealing Millie’s attention again.

She tried to garner Nell’s attention and signal they should do something else, but Nell was glancing around the drawing room, likely to see who else was present. Perhaps she was even searching for Wesley, though Millie had already looked. He was not there.

The temptation to feign exhaustion and leave in search of Wesley was quickly snuffed when the man himself stepped through the drawing room door, his tall frame taking up every bit of space in Millie’s mind as it did that doorway. His green eyes fell upon her and held, like they had caught her in their net and would not release her. She was secured in his gaze, wishing the rest of the room and the people in it would fade away so she could find out what had sent him running from the dinner table.

“There you are, Nell,” Wesley said, approaching their small group. He dipped his head in acknowledgement to Millie, who felt immediately suffocated. She and Nell were edged in by Mr. Kendrick, Mr. Stroud, and now Wesley. She had to fight the urge to take a step back.

“We were discussing the possibility of playing whist,” Mr. Kendrick said, avoiding the clear fact their small group already contained an even four. “Would you like to join us, Prescott?”