Page 45 of The Secret Suitor

She shuddered, giving him hope that she was not unaffected.

Wesley brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. “You are the most incredible person I know, Millie. I am not a poet, and I do not know how to say the things I am thinking. But that is true.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, drawing his attention there. “You must know how long I have held you in great esteem, Wesley.”

“I had thought it a passing inclination in your youth…a whim, perhaps.”

“That is no surprise, I suppose. You have always been too busy with your responsibilities to notice me.”

“That is not true. I know you well, Millie.” Wesley leaned close enough to feel her breath.

“It hardly matters now.”

“I think it matters a great deal.”

“You are teasing me,” she whispered, the words barely audible.

Wesley meant every word with full sincerity, but if Millie did not see it that way, he would need to find a way to convince her. And not by kissing her breathless, as he so deeply yearned to do. He slid his fingers beneath her jaw and leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. As he leaned back, he noted the way her breath caught.

She was not unaffected.

Hope.

“Come. We ought to return to the house before the snow worsens.”

Millie said nothing. She followed him to the door, and they were stunned to find snow already gathering on trees and the house. The flakes fell quickly, creating a beautiful, cold image. Wesley offered his hand and Millie took it, and together they started back for the house.

If she needed to see that Wesley felt as he said he did, he knew what he must do.

He needed to show her.

The snow did not relent until the following evening. A veritable storm had rolled through, covering the earth in a fresh blanket of soft, pillowy snow. It had been one full day since the conversation in the mausoleum. While Wesley had been able to think of little else, Millie, it seemed, had no trouble setting her mind on other things. She had not done anything to indicate she had been part of the exchange whatsoever. After dinner, she had avoided Wesley and played cards with Mr. Kendrick in the drawing room. This morning, she had eaten breakfast with her brother-in-law and Oliver, and the people at the table talked mostly of the storm and whether they ought to venture out to attend church. The overwhelming agreement was that it was not safe, so most people remained at Bellthorne Hall.

Now, a group was gathered outside, some lying on the grass to make imprints in the snow, others rolling balls to throw at one another. Wesley observed Millie and Mr. Stroud working together on what appeared to be a man made of snow. He ought to be watching his sister, but Millie had stolen his attention. He could not drag his focus away.

“If you stare at my cousin too long, others will begin to notice,” Oliver said, packing snow into a ball as he approached. “You could help her with the snow puppet?”

“Who says…” Wesley closed his mouth and sighed through his nose. What was the point in pretending otherwise when he had already told Millie how he felt? “She is avoiding me.”

“Have you done something you should not have?”

“Perhaps.”

Oliver shifted and threw his snowball hard at a nearby tree trunk, where it exploded upon impact. It looked satisfying, so Wesley bent to pick up a handful of snow to make his own.

“Am I going to need to throw a glove?” Oliver asked. “I would rather not call you out, Wesley, but with my uncle not here to do it⁠—”

“No. Nothing of that nature.” He shot Oliver an exasperated look. “I merely spoke too freely.”

Oliver’s eyebrows lifted, and he bent to gather another snowball.

Wesley reared back his arm and threw his snowball with as much force as he could. Watching it strike the tree, sending snow exploding in every direction, drove a surge of satisfaction through him. He reached down for another.

“Did you want her to consider you one of her suitors?” Oliver asked.

“I wanted her to disregard all her other suitors,” he said before he could think better of being so honest. “Including the anonymous one. Who is leaving her those notes? Do you know?”

“I haven’t any idea. There has not been any suspicious activity in our wing of the house. None I have noticed, at least.”