A Dash of Scandal

Chapter Seventeen

“The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief.” Someone should tell this to Lord Dunraven. The earl seems to be getting more ill-humored with each passing day that the family raven is not returned to its nest. It’s on good authority this one reports that in an outing to Hyde Park, Lord Dunraven rebuffed Lady Lambsbeth, a lady he once admired, and left her to catch his carriage dust.

—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column

Millicent stood in a far corner of the ballroom, trying not to watch Chandler. He was on the other side of the dance floor talking with his good friends Lord Chatwin and Lord Dugdale, handsome gentlemen with affable smiles and charming manners. She’d had the pleasure of meeting both of them earlier in the week.

She had caught Chandler’s eyes glancing her way more than once tonight. Her stomach had quickened each time his gaze swept over her.

It had been a week since their ride in Hyde Park, and, much to her surprise, Chandler hadn’t made any attempts to meet her in secret. She was conflicted with a mixture of gratefulness and disappointment because he had finally decided to respect her wishes and not pursue her. She should have been relieved, but that’s not what she was feeling.

They’d managed a few snippets of conversations during the evenings while dancing at the various parties they had attended during the week. Sometimes the dances were so lively it was impossible to talk. Other times it would be a dance where they had to change partners so it was difficult to have a conversation of any merit.

In the end she had a short list of the tallest ladies to keep an eye on each evening, and Chandler had a long list of gentlemen to watch. She hoped to hear tonight that he had news from Mr. Doulton’s inquiries into the list of names Chandler had given him, but the evening was growing late and he hadn’t approached her.

She scanned the fringe of the room again, hoping no one noticed her eyes lingered on Chandler far too long. She found herself thinking, “If only, if only, if only,” in time to the music that filled the crowded room. There was no use in going over the if onlys again. She’d been through them all a number of times and nothing was going to change her position or his.

Chandler was a confirmed bachelor. She’d heard that from several members of the ton. When and if he married, it wouldn’t be to a young lady who had spied and written gossip. He would make a love match with someone like the beautiful Miss Pennington or an astute business match with a young lady like the approachable Miss Bardwell.

Millicent had resigned herself to finishing the gossip Season for her aunt, who was well on her way to recovering. Each day she looked better and sounded stronger. With Emery’s help, she was getting out of bed and spending most of the day sitting in a chair.

In another week or two Aunt Beatrice would be testing her leg to see if she could walk with a cane. Because of her aunt’s improvements, Millicent felt sure she would be back in Nottinghamshire by September—and doing what?

She turned away from the area where Chandler stood and started a slow stroll around the crowded room, greeting the people she passed, but hardly seeing them. Millicent hadn’t considered what she would do when she returned home. She hadn’t wanted to. She couldn’t bear the thought of settling down to marriage with any of the eligible gentlemen in her town. After Chandler, how could she accept another man’s attentions?

How could she enjoy or even tolerate another man’s kisses and caresses when Chandler was the only man who had ever stirred wanton desires inside her? Desires that threatened to—

Someone bumped her arm, breaking her train of thought. And thank goodness, she chided herself.

Her task had been forgotten. She needed to look around and locate Viscountess Heathecoute, Lady Lynette, Mrs. Honeycutt, and Mrs. Moore. She truly didn’t believe any of the ladies were connected to the Mad Ton Thief anymore than she was, but someone had to be taking the items.

After a quick glance around the room she saw two of the ladies were present. She didn’t see the Lady Heathecoute or Lady Lynette. Millicent decided to check the ladies’ retiring room and the area where the buffet table had been placed and headed in that direction.

“Millicent,” Lady Lynette said, coming up behind her. “I saw you looking my way, but when I waved to you, you looked right through me. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. And I was looking for you,” Millicent said with a hurried smile. “I’m glad you saw me. I wanted to thank you for that lovely note you sent thanking me for the apricot tarts I dropped by your house. I’m sorry you weren’t up to seeing me when I called on you.”

“I was disappointed to have missed you.” She rolled her eyes. “There are just three or four days out of every month that I have to go to bed. I’m simply a beast, but as I said in my letter to you, I have been wanting to taste one of those tarts for years. And they did make me feel so much better.” She stopped and licked her lips and inhaled deeply.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed them.”

“They were heavenly. Truly divine. Didn’t you think so?”

“Oh yes,” Millicent said, and realized immediately that wasn’t the truth. She had not even sampled a one of the tarts. They all had gone to Lynette, except for the two she had sent up to Aunt Beatrice.

Lady Lynette pursed her lips and fanned herself with a lace fan. “You didn’t even taste one, did you?”

Millicent opened her mouth to protest but the truth came out instead. “No.”

“What a shame, but I understand why you didn’t.”

“You do?” Millicent wasn’t sure she understood why she had had no desire to eat one of the tarts.

“You wanted to be different, didn’t you?”

Millicent wasn’t sure this was a conversation she wanted to have with Lady Lynette or anyone. “What do you mean?”

“You were hoping Lord Dunraven would treat you differently from every other young lady he has called on. You wanted him to be so bewitched by you that he forgot to bring the tarts.”

He had that first time he came. But he had forgotten only because he was upset because he’d figured out that she was writing the gossip for Lord Truefitt’s column—not because he was bewitched by her.

“Sometimes you see too much, Lynette.”

“Right you are. Earlier, I knew it wasn’t me you were looking for. You were watching Lord Dunraven, weren’t you?”

Millicent smiled. “Now that is only partly true. My eyes naturally fell upon him a few minutes ago as I was looking for you and Lady Heathecoute.” Millicent made a show of scanning the room again for her chaperone. “I know it’s about the time of evening that she said we would be leaving. I was on my way to walk past the refreshment table and the ladies’ room looking for her. Would you care to walk with me?”

“That would be nice,” Lynette said and fell in step beside Millicent. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Millicent stiffened. Lady Lynette asked the astonishing question as easily as she would have asked about the weather. Millicent wasn’t prepared to be that honest with her friend.

She was left with no choice but to say, “What? Who?”

“Lord Dunraven of course.”

“No, no, no. Does it show?”

Lady Lynette laughed softly. “To me, but probably not to anyone else.”

“Angels above, I hope not,” Millicent said, feeling more exposed than she would like to be. And was she really admitting that she was in love with Lord Dunraven?

“Remember, I warned you about him that first afternoon I called on you.”

They arrived at the retiring room, but the viscountess was not there so they started toward the refreshment table.

“I know, but by then it was too late. I had already met him, had already been besotted by him. You won’t mention this to anyone, will you?”

“Of course not. He’s a charmer and so engaging it’s downright sinful. I know what it is like to love someone who will never be available.”

Millicent’s attention turned from herself and focused on her friend. “Do you?”

“Oh yes. I knew there was no way he would ever consider me, but it didn’t stop me from dreaming about him.”

Millicent felt a squeeze at her heart. She should have known that the birthmark would not keep Lady Lynette from feeling love, and it shouldn’t keep a gentleman from loving her. She was a warm and delightful person.

“I’m sorry. Is there any possibility?”

“No, no. He’s already married someone else and he seems happy.” Lady Lynette smiled. “Now tell me, how can I be upset if he is happy?”

“Then I shall look at Lord Dunraven that way, too. If he is happy as a bachelor for the rest of his life, then I shall be happy for him.”

“Perhaps some other handsome gentleman will catch your fancy while you are still in Town.”

Never.

“Perhaps, Lynette. If it happens that would be wonderful, but if it doesn’t, like you, I’ll will be content with my reading, writing poetry, and my needlework. But, if there is hope for me, there is hope for you.”

Lady Lynette laughed and Millicent made a mental note that the viscountess was not at the buffet table. She turned in the direction of the large room, where the majority of the guests had spent most of the evening.

When they entered the crowded room, Lady Lynette said good-bye and Millicent’s eyes immediately searched for Chandler and the ladies on her list. Before her gaze had time to cover all the corners, nooks, and small clusters of people, Chandler came up beside her. He took hold of her hand and kissed the back of her palm as his blue gaze caressed her face.

Millicent felt the delicious tingles of his touch way down in her soul. Gloves were no barrier to what she felt where Chandler was concerned.

Oh, how I shall miss you.

“How are you this late evening, Miss Blair?”

“Well, sir, and you?”

“Better now that I’m by your side.”

Millicent wished her insides wouldn’t waken with desire at his flattery, but she had long given up on trying not to be moved by his every word.

“I’ve noticed that you have been busy dancing and talking with your friends.”

“I’m happy that you noticed I had arrived.”

“You know I’ve been waiting all evening for you to tell me what you have heard from your Runner. I fear you’ve been making me wait on purpose.”

“Tsk, tsk. Must we go straight to business?”

“Indeed. We have little time to ourselves in which we can speak privately.”

“That is your fault. Just give the word and I will be in your garden tonight waiting for you.”

She believed him; therefore, she couldn’t agree even in a teasing manner. She looked around and there was no one standing close enough to hear them. The hour was late and the crowd was getting smaller.

“You know I can’t do that. Chandler, we must talk while we have these few moments alone.”

“Very well. I have a bit of news to report. I spoke to Doulton today. He didn’t have any trouble finding out all that I asked him about Lord Dugdale. Your source was correct. Andrew is indeed financially embarrassed at the moment.”

It made her feel good that he’d told her. He could have kept that bit of information from her and she would have never known.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know you were hoping it wasn’t true.”

“Yes. The good thing is that his situation is not so bad that he would need to resort to stealing in order to get money. His funds are low, but not nonexistent, and according to Doulton’s findings, he’s taking appropriate steps to correct his mounting debts.”

“Well, there is hope for him.”

“Yes. Even though he attended every party where there was a robbery, I believe we can safely assume he is not the thief.”

She nodded and said, “I’m inclined to agree.”

Millicent couldn’t help but admire him for at least looking at the possibilities where Lord Dugdale was concerned.

“Doulton also double-checked the guest lists and Lady Lynette, Lady Heathecoute, and Mrs. Moore were all at every home where there was a robbery. Mrs. Honeycutt was not at my party.”

“So we can eliminate her from our list.”

“Yes.”

“What have we learned about the men?”

“That is taking a bit longer.” He leaned in closer and smiled. “Perhaps we should meet another time so we can discuss it thoroughly.”

“I insist on hearing it all right now.”

“You are a difficult taskmaster, Miss Blair.”

“That is because you want to play when there is work to be done.”

“Very well. I will continue, but I will insist that at a later time we have a bit of idleness all to ourselves even if it is only another ride in the park.”

Her pulse quickened at the possibility of being alone with him. She hoped it didn’t show how eager she was for him to make good on that promise.

“We’ve narrowed down the tallest men who attended all of the parties where there were robberies to less than twenty.”

Millicent frowned. “That is still a lot of men to consider.”

“I know, but better than the near fifty we started with. First thing tomorrow morning, Doulton will be checking the bank records of these men to see if any of them might be under financial pressure.”

“That should narrow the field even more. I really can’t imagine why a person would steal unless it was for monetary gain.”

“I suppose there are those who steal for the fun of it, or because of sickness, but both those reasons seem a bit far-fetched to me.”

“Me too. But we are making progress in our elimination game.”

“So it seems.” He stepped closer to her. “I’ve noticed all evening that your smile doesn’t seem as bright tonight. Is something wrong?”

Yes.

“No, I’m fine.” She tried to prove it by smiling at him but felt sure it fell short of her expectations.

“I’ve missed you. I’ve wanted to come see you, but I’ve respected your wishes.”

She tried to lighten the mood. “Which has made you a perfect gentleman.”

“I’ve always told you I know how to be one, but it’s been a dreadful life.”

She laughed. “You are such a delightful rogue.”

“You are such a delectable lady.”

“And you are trying to change the subject.” She started scanning the area in front of her. “I couldn’t find Lady Heathecoute earlier. I was looking for her when you walked over.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Chandler said, “Look no longer. Here she comes.” Suddenly his eyes narrowed. His brows drew together. “Millicent, look at the front of her skirt. Does it not look odd shaped?”

Millicent turned around and looked at the large woman walking into the room. Her gaze dropped to the front of the viscountess’s skirt. The dress she wore was high-waisted, fitting snugly under her breasts and dropping with a full, heavily gathered skirt. She was walking stiffly as if she were trying not to move, and low in the front of her skirt, the area between her abdomen and knees, there was an unusual bulge.

Chandler was right. Something didn’t look quite right under the yards of fabric that was her skirt.

A chill ran over Millicent. She looked up at Chandler. “I think… you don’t suppose…”

“That she has something hidden under her skirt?” Chandler finished the question for Millicent.

She looked up into his eyes. “Don’t even think it. It can’t be possible.”

“We’ve known for some time that the thief had to be someone who is free to come and go at every party,” Chandler gently reminded her.

Millicent looked at the lady again and knew for certain there was something wrong with her skirt. Millicent’s stomach knotted with apprehension. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, yet, but we’ll think of something.”

“We’d better come up with it fast because she’s heading this way with her husband. I think they are going to tell me it’s time to go.”

“She’s not leaving until we know if she’s hiding something under her dress,” he murmured under his breath as the Heathecoutes approached.

“Lord Dunraven, how are you this evening?” the viscount asked, his nose held high and not a hint of a smile on his thin lips.

“Well, thank you. How about you and your lady?”

“We’re in fine shape, too.”

Chandler turned to their prey. “You are looking very nice tonight, viscountess.”

She offered a little smile that twitched her lips. “Oh, thank you, sir, but I’m afraid I can tell it’s the end of the evening. I’m a little tired and ready to quit the night. Are you ready, Millicent, dear?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, then we’ll take our leave.”

“Lord Heathecoute,” Chandler spoke up after a quick glance to Millicent, “do you mind if I walk out with you to the carriages?”

“No, not at all, my lord. Pleased to have you join us.”

Millicent was quiet and watchful as they stopped for their cloaks. Thankfully, her chaperone didn’t try to engage her in conversation. Millicent couldn’t help but notice that her ladyship immediately wrapped her large cloak around her body as if she were trying to ward off the harshest of winter nights instead of a pleasant spring evening. Millicent left hers to hang free from her shoulders as was the current fashion.

She didn’t want to believe that the woman who’d chaperoned her these past three weeks was a thief. Lady Heathecoute had been diligent in her care and respect for Millicent, and she felt dreadful about what she was going to have to do.

Millicent heard the viscount and Chandler talking as they made their way to the front and waited for their carriage to be brought around. What could she do? Reach out and grab the front of the lady’s dress? Demand she lift her skirt? No, the thought of what would happen if she was wrong was too horrible to contemplate, but she must do something.

Their carriage arrived and the driver jumped down and opened the door.

Time was slipping away. Millicent had to do something now. When the Lady Heathecoute reached for her husband’s hand to be helped into the carriage, Millicent deliberately stumbled and fell into the viscountess, hitting something hard in the front of her skirt that clattered like silver teapots clanging together.

“You oaf!” Lady Heathecoute squealed and shoved Millicent with such strong force she couldn’t stop herself from falling forward. She slammed into the carriage door, her head striking the metal handle and cutting a deep gash into her forehead.

Chandler rushed to her aid and kept her from falling. “Millicent, are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, but in truth her head was throbbing with pain and she was a bit dazed. She felt the trickle of blood running down the side of her face.

He threw a hostile glare to the lady. “This roughness wasn’t necessary.”

“Now see here,” the viscount said. “Millicent stumbled into her.”

Chandler found a handkerchief in his pocket and pressed it against Millicent’s wound. She winced and took it away.

“Chandler, I’m fine. Let me handle this.”

“No, we are in this together and you’re not all right. The skin is broken and your head is bleeding.”

Millicent looked up into his eyes and whispered, “Do not worry about me. I will be well. Let’s finish what we have started.”

He looked deeply into her eyes. He whispered, “You are more important to me than anything else. Hold this to your wound so it will stop bleeding.”

Why did he have a gift for saying things that made her heart beat a little faster, her breath come a little slower?

“Millicent, that does look like a nasty cut and should be seen to right away,” Lord Heathecoute said.

Millicent was now certain that her chaperone was hiding something beneath her clothing. She didn’t know what was holding the items under her skirt, but the viscountess had deliberately pushed her into the carriage and it was no slight shove. Her head was pounding.

“Ma’am,” Millicent said, ignoring the viscount and looking directly at his lady. “I hit something under your skirt. What was it?”

Lady Heathecoute took a step back. Her eyes quickly darted from Millicent to Chandler to her husband. “I don’t know what you are talking about. There’s nothing beneath my skirt.”

Millicent noticed that several people had gathered around. “I felt it,” Millicent insisted and took a challenging step toward her.

“She’s right,” Chandler said. “I heard something clang together when she stumbled into you.”

“You’re both talking nonsense,” Lady Heathecoute huffed loudly. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She turned to her husband. “You didn’t hear anything, did you, my lord?”

He lowered his eyes and looked down at his wife. “Yes, I do believe I heard some kind of a clanging noise, but I don’t know what it was or where it came from.”

“You imbecile!” she exclaimed in an earsplitting voice, but then, as if realizing how loudly she had spoken, she lowered her voice considerably and continued. “If there was noise it certainly didn’t come from under my skirt! Now, Millicent, get in the carriage at once. We must get you home and see to that cut before you visit with Beatrice. I don’t know what made you so clumsy tonight.”

Millicent and Chandler looked at her, and so did the six or so other people who had gathered around them. Millicent knew she had to do something. She would be leaving London as soon as her aunt was well. She need never return. This was Chandler’s home. She could withstand the talk and embarrassment if they were wrong about Lady Heathecoute. Chandler could not. Millicent had to be the one to press the issue.

It was now or never. She might not get another chance to expose the thief.

“No, I won’t leave until you reveal to us what you are hiding beneath your gown.”

The viscountess’s eyes widened further. “How dare you disobey me.”

“I felt something when I hit you. Lord Dunraven and your husband heard something. Now, take off your cloak and show us what you are hiding.”

Lady Heathecoute’s face contorted into a mask of cold rage. “Of all the ungrateful chits in London, you are the worst I have ever encountered. You have no right to demand that I do anything, and I will not!”

“Dearest,” her husband said in a voice that dripped with boredom over the whole event. “Just open your cloak and show them that you are hiding nothing, then they can apologize to us for being so ungodly rude and we can go home.”

“I will do no such thing,” she exclaimed again.

Millicent took a deep breath and said, “Lady Heathecoute, I’m afraid I believe you might be the Mad Ton Thief.”

Gasps of surprise and horror sounded all around her, but Millicent didn’t take her eyes off her suspect. If she was wrong, she would have to leave London and never return—just as her mother had.

Chandler put his arm around Millicent’s shoulder and said, “I agree with her. I can’t let you leave here until we know that you are not hiding anything.”

The viscountess pretended to faint and fell back into her husband’s arms, almost knocking him over. She peered up at her husband pleadingly. In a weakened voice she said, “Tell her I don’t have to do this? I won’t do it. I must go home immediately.”

Obviously finding a little backbone, her husband pointed his nose at Millicent and barked, “You accuse my wife of such a dastardly deed after all she has done for you. I’m aghast at your behavior. Have you no shame as well as no manners?”

“It’s not just Millicent,” Chandler said. “It’s me, too, and now these people,” he said, pointing to the small crowd that had gathered.

Sneering at Chandler, Lord Heathecoute looked at his lady and said, “You must prove the chit and the earl wrong, my dear, then I will take you home.”

The viscountess clutched the front of his coat firmly with both hands. Her face was frantic with fear and rage. “I can’t, I won’t. I won’t!” She screamed and pushed away from her husband.

She tried to scramble into the carriage by herself, but her foot slipped on the wet step and she fell forward, with the clinging and clanging of metal bumping together as she hit the ground.

She tried to pull herself up, and the sound of metal rent the air again. Mutterings of outrage and surprise from the crowd filled the night air. Lord Heathecoute and Chandler hurried over to assist the helpless lady to stand, and there was more clanging.

“What is this?” the viscount asked in horror as he felt down the front of her skirt.

The accused wailed loudly and leaned against the carriage door. Her large eyes seemed to be staring straight ahead but not looking at anyone or anything in particular.

Millicent was chilled by the screeching, pitiful sound that came from the older woman.

“Dear, dear. What is going on?” her husband asked as stiffly as he moved.

Lady Heathecoute started looking through the folds of her large skirt until she came to a long slit in the side that had been hidden in the fabric. She parted the material and reached into a large pocket and pulled out a silver tea pot and a silver tray.

For the third time that evening, gasps of surprise rang out in the still air.

Chandler looked at Millicent and something he had never felt before swelled in his chest. They had done it. Together they had found the Mad Ton Thief.

The noise from the crowd grew louder.

“Someone call for the authorities,” Chandler said.