Page 42 of The Secret Suitor

He chuckled. “You make a fair point.”

They walked along the path, following the long stream that disappeared beneath a bridge ahead of them. The sky grew thicker, the gray darkening enough to cause Millie to look up. “Do you think we will be rained on shortly?”

“Perhaps.” Wesley glanced at the clouds before looking at her. “We could return to the garden nearer the house, but while we are safe from being overheard, I wanted to ask you something.”

Her pulse picked up in speed. “Yes?”

He hesitated, brushing some of his dark curls off his forehead. He pressed forward, inhaling before speaking. “The letters are romantic—I will not try to pretend otherwise—but are they the foundation of a fine, stout love? Do you not need to develop true feelings for the man instead of baseless hopes?”

“Who is to say they are baseless?”

“How are you certain they are not?”

Millie considered this. Nothing Wesley said bothered her, because she understood his intentions were pure. But anything that picked at her hope felt raw. “Perhaps that is why I feel the man must be either Mr. Kendrick or Mr. Stroud.”

Wesley stopped, turning to face her. “You have developed feelings for both men?”

“Mercy, no!”

The tightness around his eyes eased. “Then why do you name them in particular?”

“They have each given me reason to believe they might be the writer.” Millie turned to continue walking, noting the mausoleum ahead of them with its grand columns and domed ceiling. “Both men have singled me out on multiple occasions with directness. And Mr. Stroud…well, suffice it to say I have further reason for believing him a candidate.”

“Has he done anything untoward?”

“No. He…” Millie looked up at Wesley. “You cannot repeat this to anyone. My sister does not even know.”

“Does mine?”

“Of course she does.”

He gave a mildly exasperated laugh. “Then you know how well the Prescotts can keep a secret.”

That was true. “When we were both in London for the Season—Mr. Stroud and I—he asked me to marry him.”

Wesley stopped walking at the base of the bridge and gaped at her.

Millie ignored him and crossed the bridge, waiting at the halfway mark for him to join her. The water below moved, reflecting the gray sky.

“Marriage?” he said, his feet still planted on the walking path.

“I declined.”

“How can you possibly think the secret admirer could be any other man, Mildred?”

She flattened her lips together. “Because he was soundly refused. I thought more of him than someone who would put themselves up for humiliation multiple times.”

“I suppose that is reasonable.” Wesley met her in the center of the bridge. “Unless he feels he merely needs time to prove himself. And Mr. Kendrick? What was it that made you consider him for a suitor?”

“Because he is older than me, you mean?”

“I am older than you, Millie.” He did not complete his thought, which was likely something along the lines of Mr. Kendrick being older than him.

She pressed her gloved hands to the stone balustrade that ran along the foot bridge. “I did not consider him at first, for that very reason. But if he could love me, then what do a few years truly matter? I told you I wanted to find someone devoted to me, Wesleworth.”

An amused smile broke out across his face, making him far more handsome than he had any right to look.

“I had intended to kiss every man whom I thought I could possibly love, so I might ascertain which of them returns my feelings.”