Page 59 of The Secret Suitor

He was going to kiss her.

Wesley cleared his throat, sliding one hand down her back as the other cupped her neck. “I did not come here seeking an attachment, Millie. But coming to Bellthorne placed you in a light I had not previously considered, and for that, I will always hold this place in esteem. Before, I was too focused on my duties and responsibilities to see what was plainly in front of me.”

“That is an acceptable speech.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “You approve?”

“Yes, but do not let that stop you.”

Wesley pulled her closer. “I will work on a better one.”

As his face dipped, his lips coming closer to hers, he paused. The alcove felt like their own world, like nothing could reach them there. Wesley looked into her eyes, his mouth hovering so close she could feel his breath, then he kissed her. His lips were velvet and soft, brushing over hers lightly, like he had endless time at his disposal. Millie’s body erupted as though a hundred butterflies had taken flight within her, making her feel weightless and fluttery simultaneously.

Wesley broke the kiss, assessing her. His breath heaved in time with hers until she could not take it anymore. She pulled on the lapels of his coat, bringing his mouth back to meet hers.

Her back pressed against the column, Wesley’s body leaning against her, his mouth devouring hers as though he could not satisfy his need for her. He cradled her head gently, moving it this way and that as he deepened the kiss, giving as much as he took.

She had often wondered what it would be like to be the sole recipient of his attention, and Wesley had proven he put as much care and thought into kissing as he did every other activity.

He leaned back, looking at her again, then pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her. “What will Nell say?”

“She will be thrilled,” Millie said confidently. “The better question is what will Miss Stroud say?”

Wesley made an unintelligible sound. Millie inhaled, unable to care too greatly for how they would manage the expectations of the other guests at the house party. She sighed, perfectly content in the knowledge that yes, kissing did tell her much about a man. It confirmed what she had long since suspected, tried to ignore, and could not: she loved Wesley.

Chapter Nineteen

Wesley was ravenous. Apparently, several hours spent fretting, followed by a kiss divine enough to leave him breathless, combined sufficiently to produce a formidable appetite.

Watching Millie across the table as she tried to balance equal attention for each of her tablemates was a trial of patience, however. Particularly when one of those men was probably sneaking into her room to leave her romantic notes.

Wesley noted the way the dinner assignments had been grouped to promote certain couples coming together. It was as though Lady Dalmeer had placed each guest with the person—or persons—she thought suited them best, and many of the guests accepted her suggestions easily. Millie, for example, was flanked by men who each paid her particular attention since arriving at the house.

She was hardly alone in her plight. Oliver Cole had been placed beside Miss Bowles, who had scarcely left his side all week and had made her interest unmistakably clear. And Wesley was subjected each evening to an hour of Miss Stroud’s unrelenting conversation.

Lady Dalmeer’s puppeteering could only last for the length of the meal. Once the women had gone off to the drawing room each evening, the countess’s control ended. At least in regard to the portion of the table Wesley could easily witness each evening, she had failed to match people correctly.

He ought to have been seated beside Millie, for one. Though he supposed being across from her was thoroughly enjoyable as well.

“Are you joining the group for charades tonight, Mr. Prescott?” Miss Stroud asked as she pressed her napkin to her lips, pulling his attention away from Millie.

“I had intended to, yes.”

“Wonderful.” Her eyes glittered in the chandelier’s light.

He did not know how to respond, so he lifted his goblet and took a sip of wine. Charles and Helena were in attendance this evening, which was a good sign that Helena was feeling better. Should he have spoken to Charles before telling Millie how he felt? Gained his blessing?

No. That was ridiculous.

He probably ought to have waited to kiss Millie until he had received Charles and Helena’s approval, though. They were representatives for Millie’s parents. He was so caught up in thinking about the best way to approach them, and whether he should do so or let Millie handle sharing the news with her sister, that he missed what Miss Stroud had been saying entirely.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I was wool-gathering.”

“Your attention has been elsewhere all evening.” She laughed, but it was hollow. “Is it this difficult to maintain a conversation when you are not at the dinner table, Mr. Prescott?”

“Not usually.”

“Then I shall venture to find more of your time when you are less occupied.”