Chapter 24
As the seconds dragged on, the tension between us grew so thick I felt as though I might choke on it. Millicent's gaze bore into me like the weight of a thousand books stacked precariously on my chest. My skin prickled beneath her scrutiny, my composure hanging by a thread. I could not take it anymore. With a sharp intake of breath, I planted the tip of my cane firmly against the ground, preparing to take my leave.
I began to rise from the bench, but before I could fully lift myself, a sudden pair of hands encircled my waist. I was unceremoniously yanked back and found myself seated on Millicent's lap. Yes, her lap. The sheer audacity of it rendered me momentarily frozen, my brain scrambling to process what had just occurred.
My first thought was to deliver a swift and memorable lesson in personal boundaries, perhaps by ramming the back of my head into her smug face. How dare she, how dare the Duchess of Ivoryspire, a supposed pillar of decorum, commit such an uncultured act?
I felt the warmth of her breath against my ear, far too close for comfort.
"I thought you might fall, Florance," she murmured. "I merely wished to prevent an unfortunate mishap."
Prevent a mishap? Oh, how noble of her! Fall? Fall?! I had been perfectly fine! The idea that I needed her intervention was not only insulting but laughably transparent.
I seethed inwardly. What is wrong with this woman?!
I attempted to wriggle free, but her hold was annoyingly firm, her arms resting as though they belonged there.
"Let. Me. Go," I hissed through gritted teeth.
But she, of course, had no intention of complying. Instead, she tightened her grip ever so slightly. To make matters worse, she had the audacity to rest her chin lightly on my back shoulder. "Why so tense, Florance?"
"What is wrong with you?!" I finally spat. "Why must you persist in these uncultured displays? Have you no regard for propriety, for even the faintest sense of decorum?"
She chuckled softly, and oh, how that sound grated on my nerves. It was a maddening melody, light and dismissive, as though she found my outrage positively delightful. "Oh, but I do, Florance," she replied smoothly. "I simply choose to exercise it in ways that others might not understand. It is rather entertaining, don't you think?"
My grip on my cane tightened until my knuckles ached, the pulse in my temple beating a furious rhythm of indignation. "Release me," I demanded sharply.
Millicent sighed. "If you insist." And then, she loosened her hold… with agonizing slowness.
The moment her arms fell away, I stood, though my legs were admittedly unsteady, a disorienting mixture of rage and lingering shock rendering me momentarily unstable. I stepped back quickly, creating as much distance as I could between us without outright fleeing. My mind scrambled to summon the perfect rebuke, something scathing and intellectual that would cut her down to size, but alas, she only smiled, that infuriatingly smug smile that suggested she had just won some absurd, unspoken battle.
My chest heaved with the effort of restraining myself. I was positively livid, furious at her arrogance, at my inability to deliver a satisfying retort, and at the sheer absurdity of the situation. How could someone who so outwardly embodied grace and elegance behave in a manner so outrageously unpredictable?!