Some Enchanted Evening (29 page)

"How did you survive the years alone with him?" Robert asked.

His frankness made her uncomfortable. "I shouldn't complain. After all, he was my father, and I'm supposed to honor him."

"You're his daughter, which meant he should have had a care for you. For all of us. Instead, he used us as his whipping posts."

She was shocked that Robert at last said what they'd always thought. At the same time, it freed her to show the compassion she'd always felt but curbed out of respect for Robert's pride. "He never whipped Prue or me. He took the rod only to you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

"He whipped you too. Unmercifully and without ceasing. He beat you with words, and I was sorry that
I
couldn't stop
him
too."

"I know. I do know."

When Robert had left, sold to the army like a conscript rather than the nobleman's son he was, only Millicent's memory of her mother gave her the courage to stand between Prudence and their father. For the most part, she'd been successful deflecting Father's malice away from Prudence and onto herself.

Prudence didn't know. Dear girl. Every miserable moment had been worth it, for Prudence was as innocent and vivacious as Millicent had never been. Prudence would be a debutante. She would dance, she would flirty she would marry and have children. She would be everything that Millicent had ever dreamed of being, and that made Millicent's sacrifice worthwhile.

"I'm sorry I abandoned you to Father," Robert said. "I worried about you."

"I worried about you too, all the time you were gone, but truth to tell, I hoped things on the Peninsula would be better for you." She sounded stupid, and she hastened to explain herself. "I beg you believe me — I don't think war is easy. But I hoped when you got away from Father and among other jolly young men, you might occasionally have fun of a manly sort."

For the first time, Robert looked at ease. Leaning back, he studied her. "Fun of a manly sort, heh? What might that be?"

He was teasing her, she realized. He was teasing her! It was almost like old times when their father had gone visiting and they were alone and happy. "You know." She waved her other hand. "Drinking, cards . . . women."

Robert barked a laugh. "There was some of that, Millicent. I promise, there was some of that."

She studied his face anxiously. "But most of it was difficult."

He dismissed his travails with a shrug of one shoulder. "What I wanted to say was — Millicent, I'm grateful for all that you've done for me. You've done more for me, for Prudence, and for the estate than a hundred women, and you've done it all without complaining when you should have been heartily complaining." He looked into her eyes. "I thank you, and I want you to know how much I admire you. You are the dearest sister any man has ever had the good luck to possess, and I thank God for you every night. Especially now, with all the work you've had to do to bring this ball to fruition."

Millicent didn't know what to reply. No one had ever expressed their admiration of her before. She didn't expect it. But she liked it.

He continued. "I'm back to take care of things. I know I've not done a good job so far, but I promise in the future I'll do better. For tonight ... I beg you, take the time to enjoy the fruits of your labor."

"What do you mean?"

"Dance, drink, dine, and gossip," he said. "Isn't that what ladies like to do at balls?"

"I don't know," she said frostily.

"I've said the wrong thing. My apologies." He stood and bowed. "I shouldn't have bothered you."

She hadn't meant to chase him away. Not when he looked as if he labored under some distress. "Robert, sit down. You can ask me anything, you know. I'll do my best for you."

With a show of reluctance, he perched on the edge of the sofa. "You could do me a favor."

"Anything," she reiterated.

"Lord Tardew is a friend of mine. Well, you remember Corey. He visited here often enough."

"Yes, I remember." How could she forget?

"He'll be here tonight."

"I know." Princess Clarice. Had she been talking to Robert about Millicent? But she wouldn't have been cruel. She wasn't like that. And Robert wouldn't try deviously to push them together. He knew very well that Millicent couldn't appeal to a man like Corey.

But Robert didn't seem to know any such thing. He lowered his voice. "I haven't told you everything about my reasons for wanting this ball."

Dazed, she shook her head. "Haven't you?"

"And I won't. Trust me, it's better if you don't know the details. But I'll not have time to slap Corey's shoulder and be his friend as I have in the past, and I don't want him wondering why." Robert gazed at her in appeal. "I know it's another duty on your already duty-filled plate, but would you dance and flirt with him and distract him? I know you can."

Her heart twisted. Did Robert know about her infatuation with Corey? Was he mocking her?

But no, he appeared to be serious.

"I can't flirt." She hated to admit the truth. She liked hearing Robert flatter her with things that weren't true. "I don't know how."

Robert chuckled. "You don't have to flirt. Just smile at him and act interested. He's a shallow fellow. He'll believe you infatuated and court you most assiduously."

"There are other lasses whom he'll find more to his taste."

"None as attractive as you, Millicent. I heard him say you've got a grand figure. Dress to show it off. You've got the most beautiful smile in the world. Lavish it on him. Plus, you have a reputation as being impervious to flirtation. Yes, I promise, when he realizes he will conquer a citadel no one else has touched, he'll be after you at once." Robert squeezed her hand. "Do you mind dreadfully, dear sister? For if you do, I'll try to find another way to distract him, although none will be as effective."

"No! No, I'm glad to assist you as I can." Millicent took deep breaths, for it seemed she had suddenly ascended a mountain where the air was thin.

"Good." Robert clapped his hands to his knees and stood up. "I admire your boldness and your initiative more and more, and I have every faith in you. I'll go now, but remember — keep him distracted all evening!"

"I will." In a daze Millicent watched Robert stride from the room.

Then he returned. "I hope you don't mind, but I ordered a gown from Mistress Dubb, made to your specifications. She's clever about fashions, and she told me she'd take care of the matter. If you don't like the gown, though, don't fret yourself. All of your gowns are admirable when they're on you."

He left again, leaving her with her hands limp in her lap. He admired her? Her boldness and initiative? He had noticed what she'd done while he was gone? He noticed what she did to run the house? He
appreciated
her? She could scarcely comprehend these new developments.

All this time she had thought herself almost invisible, and as time went on, she grew more and more invisible until it almost seemed that everyone looked through her.

But Robert had said differently, and for some reason, hearing one voice declare his admiration made all the difference in the world.

Standing, she walked, stiff-legged, toward her bedchamber.

Moreover, Robert had given her a mission. To flirt . . . with Lord Tardew. With dear, beautiful, noble Corey MacGown. And Robert had made it sound like an important matter.

She opened the door to her bedchamber, staggered inside, and went to her dressing table. There, placed among the silver-backed brushes and staid clips, were jars such as Princess Clarice sold. And a curling iron. And on the bed, a gorgeous gown of the most provocative cherry-red.

Millicent knew it was provocative, because her eyes popped when she saw it.

"Ma'am?" Her maid hurried forward. "His Lordship said I was to help you dress and coif, and if you need help you're to call Princess Clarice."

At the offer Millicent's spine stiffened. "No. I know what to do. Now I have only to do it."

Chapter Twenty-four

A princess always utilizes her handkerchief and checks her buttons before entering the ballroom,

— The Dowager Queen of Beaumontagne

Millicent had never had people look at her as they did now. With confusion and disbelief. When Colonel Ogley and Mrs. Ogley entered the room on a polite round of applause, the colonel himself saw her and did an inelegant double take.

But keeping Princess Clarice's advice in mind, Millicent walked into the ballroom with a smile fixed on her lips. She glided rather than walked, the thin satin of the cherry-red skirt swishing around her legs, and she wondered if the gentlemen could tell she had left off her petticoat.

Seeing the scandalized look on Mr. Trumbull's hangdog face, she realized they could.

The newly cut fringe brushed at her forehead in a maddening manner, like midges swarming against her skin. She barely refrained from swatting at it, but she kept her hands in a graceful arc at her sides as she crossed the hardwood floor. The ballroom was as beautiful as she had hoped, and as they looked around, Lady Mercer, Lady Lorraine, and Mrs. Symlen smiled. The debutantes were wide-eyed and awe-stricken, and even Lady Blackston nodded a sour approval.

Millicent instructed the leader of the orchestra to start the music, then turned back to the beautifully dressed crowd on the ballroom floor and smiled graciously. She damned well would be confident if it killed her.

And she found she enjoyed the glazed, openmouthed stare young Larissa gave her — especially since Larissa sported a fiery red and pustulous spot right between her eyes.

With all the enthusiasm of a puppy Prudence bounced up and sputtered, "You wouldn't let me dampen my skirts, and you look like
that
?"

Millicent's confidence took a fast dive. "Do I look ridiculous?"

"You look dazzling, not at all like yourself, but you're wearing a breathtaking red gown and I'm wearing" — Prudence plucked discontentedly at her blue skirt — "this boring old thing."

"You look lovely, and absolutely appropriate for someone of your age."

"I don't want to look appropriate. I want to look stunning too."

"When you're my age, you can wear a cherry-red gown." Lowering her voice, Millicent distracted Prudence the best way she knew how. "In the meantime, did you see Larissa's spot?"

Prudence put her head close to Millicent's. "Yes, isn't it awful? All the rest of us girls don't have spots because we used the royal secret creams. That'll teach Larissa to listen to her mother. And have you seen Princess Clarice? Isn't she a stunner?"

Millicent looked around. At the edge of the ballroom Princess Clarice stood clad in a gown of glowing silver satin with touches of dark blue braid at the shoulders and a dark blue ribbon tied beneath her breasts. She wore her golden curling hair twisted back in a stern style that gave her face a grave distinction, and a peacock feather bobbed above her head. "She looks beautiful, as usual," Millicent said.

Robert walked in, offered his arm to Princess Clarice, and started with her in a circuit around the room.

Prudence gave a soundless whistle. "Older Brother looks handsome too. Larissa's right. He
is
the Catch of the Season — and with that spot, she hasn't got a chance."

Millicent found herself tittering along with her sister.

"Maybe Princess Clarice can win him," Prudence speculated.

Millicent clasped her hands before her. "Maybe so." With a squeeze to Prudence's hand she said, "Behave, and have fun."

As she moved off, Prudence called with a giggle, "Which one? I can't do both."

Millicent heartily prayed for Robert's engagement every night, for Princess Clarice had changed him even more than Millicent had dared hope. Robert was himself again, suave and social, no longer a man whose lifeless eyes made her want to cry.

That was Millicent's doing. She had urged Princess Clarice to come and stay with them. She had pushed them together as often as possible. She had done everything in her power to create an atmosphere conducive to romance, and she was proud of herself. The knowledge that she could do one thing right gave her the courage to trust her voice, and she began to speak to people. "Lady Mercer, how elegant you look. Are those the famous pearls I've heard so much about?"

Lady Mercer cackled as only an old lady could. "Damn, young lady, I never thought to see the day, but you've done it. You've really done it, and to hell with your father, heh?"

Before Millicent could think of an answer. Lady Mercer pinched her cheek hard and used her cane to thump away toward the matrons' corner.

Smile
, Millicent thought.
Smile and go on to the next guest
.

Mr. Gaskell intercepted her next. He was no more than Prudence's age but of good family with a large fortune, and his choice of bride had already been an object of much speculation among the debutantes. Right now his large brown eyes were fixed on her in a manner she'd never seen before. It almost looked like adoration. He bowed stiffly, his chin never dipping into his stiff collar, and in a nervous voice he asked, "May I beg the next quadrille?"