Eliza lifted her nose out of her book and smiled at Henry. “Good afternoon, Sir Henry. Did you get all your work done?”
Henry grimaced at the stack of letters before him. “Not quite, but the rain has stopped, so once I have dealt with what is in front of me, perhaps you would like to go for a turn about the square?”
Eliza’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, don’t worry yourself on my account, I’m in excellent company.” She held up her book so he could read the title.
His eyes sparkled when they returned to hers. “Tom Jones. Indeed I am surprised you tore yourself away long enough to acknowledge my presence.”
Eliza smiled wickedly, in total contrast with the blush staining her cheeks. “He is just about to climb into some lady’s boudoir. So, no rush!”
“I’m not sure I should allow you to pollute your mind with all that debauchery,” he commented, only half in jest, but she had already turned her attention back to the book.
“It’s very educational,” Eliza quipped.
With an appreciative laugh, Henry left her to her book and turned his attention back to his correspondence. The companionable silence descending over the library was new to him, but so very, very welcome.
AN HOUR LATER HENRY HAD worked himself down to the last of his letters and was looking forward to teasing Eliza about her risqué reading material, when he became aware of a commotion in the front hall.
A shrill female voice demanded to be taken to Sir Henry. In fact, the lady refused to take no for an answer, and the staccato of her heels accompanied her demands as she opened doors to look for him.
Henry, in the meantime, had matched the voice to his not-yet-officially dismissed mistress, Millie, and rose to take care of the situation when his eyes fell on Eliza. All color had drained from her face, and she was looking around in a panic trying to find a safe place to hide. Henry held her gaze for a moment. “What is it?”
Eliza motioned wildly to the door. “Sounds like Horace’s missus. They found me.”
Henry moved to her side and grabbed both her hands to calm her. “No, I know who it is. Calm yourself, I’ll go and take care of it.”
Eliza was not convinced. “Who is it then? I don’t want you to get hurt on my account.”
Henry couldn’t help a wry chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Her name is Millie and she is the reigning queen of Drury Lane.” He smiled apologetically. “She may also still consider herself my mistress.”
Eliza’s eyes went wide, her lips forming a perfect O, but the tension went out of her body. She sank back down into the wing-back chair and refolded her legs beneath herself before cocking her head up at him. “In that case, you better go talk to her before William has an apoplexy.”
Her cheeks dimpling, Eliza used a silk ribbon to hold her place in Mr. Fielding’s lusty tale, in expectation of a scene at least as entertaining as Tom’s antics.
BEFORE LONG, THE DOOR SWUNG open, and a determined Millie made her entrance. Her sky-blue eyes swept the library with the efficiency of a Bow Street detective, despite her obvious fury at being treated as less than a lady by the indignant doorman who followed on her heels.
“You can’t just barge in there!” wailed William from the hall.
“Oh, go f … ”
The vulgar expletive died on Millie’s lips as she realized she had found her quarry. She proceeded to demonstrate why she was considered one of the more talented actresses of her generation.
Millie immediately checked her temper, infused her face with a slow smile to indicate her pleasure at seeing Henry, and slowed her walk to a seductive swing of the hips. By the time she spoke again, her voice had lost its shrill tone and hard East End edge. Now it rippled like velvet.
“Henry, my dearest, sweet, sweet man, have you been working all this time? Is that why I haven’t seen you, my love? The last time you came to me, you told me you had to go to one of your estates to work, and now I find you still working.” She shook her head sadly, which made her blond corkscrew curls dance most enticingly around her neck and over the top of her pushed-up bosom. “I’m so glad I came. You need a break and I know just how to relax you.” She purred and smiled invitingly, her eyes widening with the promise of passion.
Henry could still see Eliza out of the corner of his eyes and shot her a quelling look as she clamped both hands over her mouth to contain her mirth. She couldn’t see the woman, but the change in her voice, what she said and how she said it, had Eliza in stitches. Henry, too, couldn’t quite hide his amusement as he moved past Eliza and into the room to greet his neglected mistress.
Millie, meanwhile, leaned slightly forward to display the luminous expanse of her pale bosom in the most outrageously low-cut red satin dress he had ever seen anybody wear in broad daylight. She was clearly on a mission, and it behooved him to find out what it might be.
“Millie, my darling, you look simply ravishing. Did I buy you that dress? I must say it was worth every penny.”
She followed the ample curves of her body with both her hands and replied, “Oh no, my love, that was Fairly.” And shrugging somewhat apologetically, she added, “You haven’t been around, and I didn’t have a stitch to wear.”
The sting of the revelation was considerably dulled by the fact that it had been his idea to hand her off to Robert. But Henry was aware of a suppressed giggle from behind the wing-back chair, so he moved past Millie to the wine decanter by the front fireplace, to make her turn back into the room. Satisfied Millie now had her back to Eliza in the wing-back chair, he filled two glasses with claret and handed one to Millie.
It may have been his idea to tell Robert to make a play for her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make her sweat a little for her faithlessness. “So, Fairly, hm? Where is the strapping young viscount now?”
Millie, encouraged by his apparent need for alcohol, fluttered her eyelashes with what she liked to think of as charming innocence and walked her fingers up his chest while she took a sip of wine.
Eliza, her hilarity having given way to curiosity, risked a peek around the side of her chair. All comparisons to Tom Jones forgotten, it was suddenly imperative to know what kind of woman held Henry’s interest.
Millie set her glass on a side table and presented her claret-stained lips to Henry. When he showed no signs of taking the bait, she slowly licked the claret off her lips and pouted. “Out of town.”
Henry nodded and granted her a sympathetic pat on the rump. “Ah, you find yourself at loose ends, my dear? Surely it isn’t another wardrobe you need, so what brings you here?”
Millie gave him a little smile as if to say, I know I’m naughty, but I also know you will forgive me because I’m adorable and you want me. All the while her hips brushed against his groin in a slow circular motion that made him hiss in a breath between his teeth. When she was certain of his favorable reaction, she let her hands trail down his chest and around his waist, down to his buttocks, and pulled herself closer into his erection. “Why, Henry, I am making sure you are not working too hard, of course.”
She let her hands slide to the front of his breeches, where she caressed him and opened the first button. “Why don’t you sit down and let me take care of you … and then you can take me shopping. I found the most delicious little hat to go with this dress.”