Page 17 of A Lady’s Lesson in Scandal (The Secret Life of a Lady #2)

17

Drake couldn’t return to sleep after Millie left. Though it was unfashionably early, he dressed without disturbing his valet and walked into the breakfast room to find Reynard walking out.

‘Rough night?’ Reynard’s famous smile tempted Drake to punch him. Right in the teeth.

‘You’re up early.’ Drake refused to take Reynard’s bait.

‘Haven’t you heard? There’s word that one of the maid’s sisters has gone missing. A local girl. The family is organising a search party. I thought it might be wise to join them. I’m heading that way now. I would extend you an invitation, but I think perhaps some food and coffee first, hey?’

Drake scowled. ‘What do you mean?’

Reynard sucked air through his teeth. ‘I mean, you look like shit. Take a moment. Get your thoughts together. Eat something. These search parties always take an age to organise. You won’t miss anything by being an hour late.’

Damn it! He’s right. I’m letting my stupid heart mess with my head.

He needed to refocus on the investigation. The sooner he put this case to bed, the sooner he could convince Millie that he wasn’t some kind of monster trying to take away her freedom.

Except that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.

Reynard slapped him on the back. ‘Cheer up, old man. You’re two days away from wedded bliss. And we’re going to catch a break on this case. I know it. Finish your breakfast. I’ll see you in the village square.’ He stood, tugging down his coat and winking at Drake. ‘Maybe you can fill me in on whatever stick is rammed up your arse when you get there.’

‘The only stick up my arse is you,’ he muttered as Reynard strolled out, passing the duchess as she entered.

Did no one sleep past nine in the bloody morning?

Filling his plate with eggs, haddock, and mushrooms, Drake paused to slather preserves on a thick slice of toast. He didn’t want to eat any of it, but there was no need to alert the duchess to his state of deep unrest. Slumping in a chair, Drake poured coffee from a carafe, took a long swallow, and scalded his tongue.

‘Shit,’ Drake growled.

Lady Winterbourne walked past the food, and before he could stand and pull out her chair, she did so herself. Sitting next to him, the striking, terrifying, powerful woman pulled a cup and saucer closer. She filled the painted porcelain teacup with coffee.

She drank the brew black. No sugar. No cream.

‘Good morning, Your Grace. I hope you slept well.’ He hated small talk, but when one sat with a friend of the Queen, one put forth their best manners.

‘I did.’ Philippa glanced at him, raising a perfectly sculpted black brow. ‘You did not.’ This close, Drake could see where her smooth skin was marred by fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Instead of diminishing her fierce beauty, it highlighted the striking combination of cobalt irises framed by thick, black lashes and crimson lips contrasting against white teeth. He couldn’t imagine a man strong enough to match the Duchess of Dorsett.

‘You don’t miss much, Lady Winterbourne.’

‘No. I don’t.’ She sipped her coffee. Her black hair was pulled into an intricate coiffure of braids and curls. Streaks of silver threading through it created a dramatic effect, like lightning in a midnight sky. ‘She told you everything, didn’t she?’

Drake’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. A chunk of haddock splatted back to his plate. ‘Pardon?’

What the actual hell?

‘I don’t repeat myself, Major General Drake.’

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

Philippa snorted, an oddly endearing sound coming from such a dignified woman. ‘You have many faults, sir. Lack of intelligence is not one of them. Millicent told you about her work with the Queen. Judging by your pale face and delicate appetite this morning, I’d say you mucked things up quite thoroughly.’

Drake gave up trying to eat. The food tasted like ash, and it was an impossible task at any rate when his mouth kept dropping open from shock. He followed her lead and sipped his own coffee. ‘I did not muck things up, thank you very much.’ He was tired of being bested by every woman in his goddamned house.

‘You did. And you know you did. You just don’t like that I’m pointing it out. But hiding your mistakes won’t fix anything. What did you tell her? That you wouldn’t allow her to continue her work?’

Impossible woman! How does she know so much?

‘Did you speak with Millie?’ It was the only possible answer.

‘I spoke with Millie last night. Before she spoke to you.’ He didn’t miss her emphasis on his use of Millie’s pet name. He was going to be her husband in a few short days. He damn well had the right to use such a familiar nomenclature. It didn’t stop the blush from heating his cheeks and fuelling his frustration. He was a war-hardened soldier, for Christ’s sake. He did not blush. His cheeks got hotter.

The duchess ignored his obvious discomfort, or – more accurately – revelled in it as she continued talking. ‘She told me she was going to trust you. That is all I needed to hear to predict the outcome.’

Anger, mortification, and shame swirled in his belly with the little bit of food he’d choked down. ‘Predict exactly what, madame?’

Philippa’s lips widened in an expression too sharp to be called a smile. ‘You are a man who values control above all else. And Millicent is a wild typhoon you’re desperately trying to contain. She will destroy you if you don’t let her go. And you will decimate her if you hold on.’

‘I would never hurt her.’ He fisted his hand and pounded it on the table to punctuate his words.

Philippa’s hand dipped into what must be a pocket. Highly unusual. But then, so was the duchess. Drake wondered exactly what she kept hidden in her midnight-blue skirts. Whatever it was, he’d bet it was lethal.

‘I wouldn’t recommend you raise your voice to me again, Major General Drake.’

Drake clenched his teeth and counted to ten. He did not apologise. Because he did not make mistakes.

Until last night. And this morning.

‘I am sorry, Your Grace. I know Millie is important to you. She is even more so to me. As her future husband, it’s my duty to protect her. And my honour to keep her safe.’

Philippa’s low laugh filled the room. ‘Protect her. Keep her safe. Do you know what I hear when you say those words? Control her. Contain her. Take away her choices because she couldn’t possibly be intelligent enough to make her own decisions.’

Fucking hell.

The truth of her words hit deeper than a bullet to his chest.

‘So, you would just have me let her go?’ Even the thought of it stole his breath.

‘If you want any chance of earning her trust, proving your faith in her? Yes.’

Philippa was crushing him into dust. But she wasn’t done yet.

‘I rarely impart my wisdom on men. Most are too stupid and too full of their own ignorance to appreciate it. But I will take a risk with you, Major General Drake. Don’t make me regret this.’

Drake forced himself to straighten his shoulders, hating that he was desperate to hear whatever advice the duchess was willing to impart. He nodded – as if she needed his permission to do anything.

Philippa rubbed her thumb and forefinger in rhythmic circles, then leaned forward. ‘Love, real love, the kind that binds two souls together, amalgamating them in a crucible of trust and commitment, that rare and wondrous miracle of true love doesn’t take choice away under the guise of protection. It doesn’t strip someone of power with the pretence of safety.’

He shook his head, instinctively rejecting her words. ‘I’m not trying to take away her freedom.’

But he was. The truth of it broke over him like a vicious wave. By exerting his power over her in an effort to keep Millie safe, he was doing exactly as Philippa said. Decimating the woman he loved. The horror of it shattered him. His heart fractured. He pressed the heel of his hand against his chest.

‘You see it now, don’t you Major General? How your edicts erase any chance of equality for her?’

As shattering as it was to admit, the duchess was right. Issuing any order and expecting it to be followed inherently assumed a hierarchy of power that put Drake above Millie. ‘Dear God. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?’

‘You will. If you don’t trust her, Major General Drake. If you don’t give her the one thing she should never have to ask you for. Freedom.’

‘I must find her. I must speak with her.’

Philippa tipped her chin at the window. ‘She went out for a ride this morning. About half an hour before I came down.’

Drake sprang from the chair, almost tipping the heavy thing in his haste to find Millie.

‘Lovely chat, Major General Drake,’ Philippa called to him as he raced out the door.

Millie was far too angry to climb into her bed after she stalked out of Drake’s room.

‘Stupid, idiotic, thick-skulled, moronic bastard,’ she hissed to the quiet room. Anger filled her limbs with buzzing energy.

Philippa had been right.

‘Of course she’s right. She’s always bloody right.’

That revelation did nothing to ease the burning ache in Millie’s chest.

‘Fucking numbskull!’ She kicked the bed and howled in pain as her toe cracked against the wooden post.

Wonderful. Now my toe and my heart are broken.

Storming into her dressing room, Millie threw petticoats, chemises, dresses, and jackets about until she found her favourite riding habit. A gorgeous tartan wool of forest green and deep brown. It buttoned at the front, allowing Millie to dress without needing to call for Penny. She shoved her stockinged feet into well-used riding boots and braided her hair. It would be cold so early in the morning, but Millie cared not.

‘It would serve him right if I froze to death. Hard to protect an icicle, Major General Blockhead!’

She fought her way into her thickest riding jacket and stomped out of her dressing room to dig through her armoire for a pair of wool-lined gloves. Without pausing to glance in the mirror, Millie swept out of her room, down the grand staircase, and out the front door. What she needed was a fast, hard ride on a beast who knew something about loyalty. Trust. Freedom.

‘Who needs a husband when I can have a horse?’ Millie declared to the windblown alders and pewter skies.

Pushing open the stable doors, she almost ran right into Master Bright.

‘Cor, Millie! You right near took me ’ead off!’

‘Billy! I’m so sorry. What are you doing about so early this morning?’

Billy was carrying a heavy saddle in his skinny arms. He almost tipped over as he sidestepped a bale of hay left in the centre of the barn.

‘Didn’t you ’ear? Theys arranged a search party. For Lucy.’

Millie followed him down the line of stables until he stopped in front of Medusa’s half door.

‘Billy, you aren’t thinking of riding Medusa, are you? Do you even ride?’

Billy ducked his head, the back of his neck turning crimson. ‘I’ve ridden before.’

‘When?’ Millie put her hand on her hip. She would cut all her hair off if Billy had ridden anything bigger than a pony.

‘Wot’s it matter to you anyways?’ He hunched his narrow shoulders. ‘I need the fastest ’orse so’s I can find ’er. Before they move ’er. I knows summink none of those others do.’ His voice quavered, and Millie wished she could pull him in for a hug. It would do both of them a world of good. The new missing girl must remind him of his sister. How much weight this small boy carried.

Wait a tick. Before they move her?

‘Billy, what do you mean “before they move her”?’ Millie took the saddle from him. There was no way she could allow him to ride Medusa alone. It would be akin to letting him jump off a cliff while hoping he sprouted wings.

‘Will you come wif me? I couldn’t tell the rest of ’em. Loud bunch of half-wits. They’d just muck things up and ruin the rescue. But not you, Millie. We’re alike, the two of us. Major General Drake is a nice bloke, but ’e doesn’t fink we can ’andle this. ’E finks we’ll just get ’urt. But we won’t. We’re tuffer than any of those toffs with their guns and swords. An ’eaps smarter too. You an’ me togefer, we can save ’er.’ Billy nodded but ruined the confident gesture by biting his lip and tugging at his hair.

Millie didn’t think. She jumped into action. ‘Of course I will. Tell me what you know while I saddle Medusa. She’s very fast, Billy. You’re going to have to hold on tight.’

‘I won’t let go of you, Millie. I swear.’

Ten minutes later, they were racing across the fields toward the forest, heading for the hunting lodge Millie saw the day before. Billy clung to Millie’s back like a determined little spider monkey, refusing to budge even when Medusa leapt over a fallen log.

Billy believed the girl was being kept in the cabin. He liked to sneak away every once in a while. When things became a bit too ‘stuffy’. Running wild in the country was nothing like living on the streets of Bethnal Green where he grew up, but it gave him a sense of freedom when ‘the walls got tight’.

He had run across the same cabin as Millie, but before he could go in, two men had come out. He was too far to see them clearly in the shadowed woods, but the instincts honed on the streets of Bethnal Green had kicked in, and Billy had found himself a snug hiding spot under the bush. The men were arguing about a package. One wanted to move it right away, but the other thought it best to wait. In the end, one of them had left while the other stayed. Billy thought the whole conversation was odd, but he could hardly go poking about the cabin knowing one of the men was still in there. It wasn’t until later he realised what that package could be. Lucy. The missing girl.

‘I knew I should have investigated that cabin yesterday,’ Millie muttered as the wind ripped through her hair and Medusa shifted left to avoid a large boulder.

Billy let out a yelp and tightened his grip around her waist.

Millie needed to keep her focus on the deer trail they were following instead of punishing herself for the past. The terrain was tricky. The last thing she or Billy needed was to be thrown or for Medusa to be injured.

They would find this girl. They had to. If only Franklin didn’t get spooked by the search party being organised. Billy explained that his haste was partly motivated from fear of the men trying to move the girl before he and Millie reached the cabin.

Imagining the shock on Drake’s stupid, handsome, infuriating face as she brought poor Lucy back – safe and sound – was a moment Millie prepared to savour.

She slowed Medusa as they entered the tree line.

‘The trail is rough, Billy. Keep a tight hold,’ she warned, not wanting the boy to loosen his grip just because they’d slowed from a gallop to a careful walk. The uneven terrain could be just as treacherous as their blistering pace in the fields.

Twenty painstaking minutes later, Millie reined Medusa to a stop. They were still a fair distance from the cabin, but if Franklin was there, she didn’t want the sound of Medusa to alert him.

‘We go on foot from here, Billy.’

They tied Medusa to a tree and picked their way through the thick bracken as quickly and quietly as possible. She had to hand it to Billy. He was swift and silent on his feet. He knew the trail much better than Millie and took the lead.

After ten minutes of scrambling, Billy crouched down low and waved her closer.

‘Just there,’ he whispered, pointing through the ferns at the clearing.

The cabin looked much as it had the day before, though no smoke came from the chimney.

Shit! What if he’s already taken her?

The very idea of poor Lucy being spirited away to a life of horror across the Channel was untenable. Millie swallowed her nerves and created a plan.

‘There’s no use barging in before we know the situation.’ She spoke in hushed tones to Billy as the wind rustled the leaves around them. Haste would only create mistakes. If Lucy was gone, it wouldn’t matter how long they took to assess the situation, and if she was there, caution was even more paramount. ‘Let’s circle around. I can go right, you left. We’ll meet at the back. If you see signs of anyone or see a horse, stay where you are, and I’ll find you. Same for me. Yes?’

‘Right you are, Millie. Careful.’ His wide eyes blinked like an owl, and Millie’s heart expanded in her chest.

What a precious lad.

‘You too, Billy.’ She nodded to him, and they both headed quietly and carefully in opposite directions.

The forest had patches of thick gorse bushes, muddy streams, and hidden rocks, all determined to thwart Millie. She was grateful her split skirts were narrow, but they still got caught on every branch, thornbush, and dead fern. Her hair was pulled from its braid, her arms and cheeks scratched by the angry forest, some deep enough to bleed, but none of it mattered if they could save Lucy. Millie reached into the slit Penny had sewn into her skirt, allowing her access to the blade strapped on her thigh. She was immensely grateful for Philippa’s gift.

Philippa!

In her haste, Millie hadn’t even thought about alerting Philippa to her plans. The duchess would not be pleased.

Well, she can join the list of people I love who are angry with me.

Millie heard the distinctive nicker of a horse.

Damnation!

It came from her right. Turning away from the cabin, she held her breath and moved at the speed of a snail. A hoof stomped and the distinctive sigh of an equine guided her gaze deeper into the trees. A copper swish of hair swiped in her peripheral. She dropped to the ground and waited. Nothing except the crunch of a horse sneaking a mid-forest snack from a low-hanging oak branch.

So, someone had the same idea as Millie and Billy. But were they here to help, or was it Franklin?

Franklin’s here. Trying to get Lucy and move her.

She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew.

As quietly and swiftly as she could, she made her way to the meeting point with Billy.

Billy was almost completely hidden behind a huge oak trunk. She joined him and hunkered down as the cold air seeped through her wool coat.

‘I didn’t see anyfink. You?’ Billy kept his gaze on the back of the cabin.

‘There’s a horse, just there.’ She tipped her head in the direction of the mare. ‘Someone’s in there with Lucy. We must be quick and careful.’

‘I’ll go in.’ Billy started to move, but she grabbed his wrist.

‘No. If it’s Franklin, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you, but I don’t think he’d kill me.’

‘’E would, Millie. I’ve seen ’im watch you this week. ’E’s got the very Devil in ’is eyes.’

Even more reason for her to keep Billy out of the cabin.

‘Look, you are much faster than me, Billy. If I get caught, you run like the dickens back to Medusa. Ride her to Alder House and get Drake.’

Billy’s eyes grew huge. ‘I can’t ride ’er wiffout you. You said it yerself. I would’ve fallen a million times if you weren’t wif me.’

He was right, but she didn’t have time to come up with a different plan. ‘You can, Billy. You’ll do grand. And that’s only if you need to.’

‘No, Millie. Let me go. I’m right strong. I can take that toff St wotever-’is-name. ’E’s likely as weak as ’is chin. ’An iffen I get in trouble, you ride like a dream. You’ll get ’elp and save me.’

Tears sprang to Millie’s eyes at his absolute confidence in her ability to save him. But this was no time for silly emotions. She blinked her eyes and shook her head. ‘You don’t even have a weapon, Billy. I’m sure Franklin has at least one pistol, and a sword. I won’t send you in there unarmed.’

‘Neither do you,’ Billy hissed, his bottom lip popping out in a pout that betrayed his youth.

Millie pulled up the sleeve of her coat, revealing the blade strapped to her wrist.

‘Cor blimey! Where’d you get that?’

‘There’s not time, Billy. Stay here. Watch. If you hear me scream or see Franklin come out of that cabin, run for Medusa. You promise?’

Billy swallowed, blinked his huge eyes twice, and bit his lip. Finally, he nodded. ‘Awright. But you be careful, Millie. The major general will kill me if anyfink ’appens to you.’

She patted him on his shoulder and carefully made her way to the back of the cabin. A glassless window was the only opening. She crouched low beneath it, holding her breath and listening.

A feminine whimper gave Millie hope. At least Lucy was still alive.

If ears had muscles, hers would be straining to hear any other sounds. The scuff of a boot on the floor, the rumble of a masculine voice, a cough or sigh. Anything indicating Lucy wasn’t alone. Millie waited for what felt like an eternity but must have only been minutes. She could see Billy’s head poking out from his hiding place, his worried eyes wide.

Time to go.

Trusting her instincts, Millie continued around the house, opting to use the front door instead of trying to scramble in the window. If someone was watching them, they’d know either way.

She slowly opened the door and Lucy’s whimpers turned into frightened, muffled screams until she saw Millie in the dim light of the cabin.

It smelled awful in the small space. Sweat, refuse, mould, and stale air. Poor Lucy was lying on her side, her hands tied behind her back, her ankles also wrapped in rough rope. Her clothes were dirty, her hair an oily matt of tangles. Tears created streaks of pale skin in an otherwise filthy face. It was hard to tell what the girl looked like beneath the dirt and ragged clothes.

The hunting shack only had one room. It was clear no one else was in the space waiting to pounce on Millie.

Bugger.

That meant whoever owned the horse was slinking around the forest.

Billy!

She needed to hurry. Save Lucy, find Billy before Franklin did, get the hell out of there.

Easy peasy, feeling queasy.

It wasn’t how the rhyme was supposed to go, but nonetheless.

Millie wasted no time, rushing over to Lucy and releasing a blade to cut through the ropes around the girl’s wrists and ankles.

As soon as Lucy’s hands were free, the girl ripped the gag from her mouth.

‘Thank you, thank you!’ she sobbed, helping Millie remove the ropes from her ankles. ‘We must hurry. He’ll be back. He heard something and left…’

‘Damn,’ Millie muttered, her fears for Billy mounting.

She helped Lucy to her feet, but the girl was too weak and almost fell. Millie caught her and didn’t hear the door creaking open.

A bullet slammed into the wall next to Millie’s head, wood splinters flying everywhere.

Without thought, Millie let go of Lucy and dropped to one knee, letting the blade in her hand fly.

The masked man at the door grunted, his pistol clattering to the ground.

Another loud report sounded outside. Someone was shooting from the forest at the front door, though Millie didn’t know if they were aiming for her or the masked Devil.

The man didn’t wait to find out. He let out a frustrated bellow and ran straight for Millie. She wrapped her arms around Lucy, protecting the girl with her body from whatever onslaught the bastard planned. But he bypassed them, leaping out the window and landing behind the shack.

He was running for his horse. The slimy weasel was trying to escape. But Millie couldn’t leave Lucy with an unknown shooter, and she still needed to find Billy to ensure the boy was safe before she chased after the masked monster.

‘Fuck!’ She stood, helping Lucy up again.

‘Y-you don’t speak like a lady.’ Lucy’s voice was rough, likely from screaming and lack of water.

‘No. She doesn’t,’ a deep voice growled.

Drake!

She kept her arm around Lucy as she turned to the front door. Drake’s great coat swirled around him. His broken brow rose in assessment. His hair, so light it was almost silver, glinted in a spear of sunlight. And his full lips, far too luscious for such a hard face, pressed together in a firm line.

The man is bloody beautiful.

He was sure to be livid, but Millie didn’t care. He was there. She wasn’t alone.

Straightening her shoulders, she tightened her grip on Lucy. ‘He’s wounded. I winged him with my blade. But we must find Billy before we go after the bastard.’

Drake’s mouth curled into a smile, transforming him from a hardened warrior into something even more stunning – the man she loved. ‘I found Billy. He has a nasty bump on his head, but otherwise, he’s well. Or will be after Mrs Hammond fusses over him for a few days.’

Relief almost felled her. But she held onto her composure with an iron grip. If she ever hoped to prove she and Drake could be partners, becoming a watering pot in her moment of triumph would not help.

‘Right. Well, then. We must pursue the masked man. He definitely wasn’t St George.’

At the sound of Franklin’s name, Lucy broke into panicked tears. ‘St George. He’s the one I met with… He, he interviewed me. For a maid’s position. Told me I got the job. Gave me tea. But everything went black. I, I woke up here.’ She was speaking too fast, her broken sobs making it almost impossible to decipher her words.

Millie knew St George was part of this. But, of course, the weak-chinned dolt couldn’t work alone. He had neither the intelligence nor the confidence. So, who was the masked man? It was imperative they discovered his identity. He would be the brains of the operation.

Millie squeezed the girl. ‘It’s okay, Lucy. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you. I swear it.’

‘We,’ Drake said.

Millie swung her gaze back to him, struggling to follow his single-word sentence in the madness of the last few moments. ‘Pardon?’

‘ We won’t let him hurt her. You did say you wanted to work together, Millie. Or have you changed your mind?’

Major General Beaufort Drake would be her undoing. Despite her best efforts, tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t form words.

Drake’s Hessians clomped over the rotten planks, he wrapped her in his warm embrace, catching Lucy in the hug as well. Millie breathed in leather and cloves and the feeling of hope.