Lady Abigail's Perfect Match

by Sophie Barnes

  Lady Abigail's Perfect Match

  The Townsbridges, Volume 2

  Sophie Barnes

  Published by Sophie Barnes, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  LADY ABIGAIL'S PERFECT MATCH

  First edition. October 29, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Sophie Barnes.

  ISBN: 978-1393042204

  Written by Sophie Barnes.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  By Sophie Barnes | Novels

  Novellas

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter One

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  Sign up for Sophie Barnes's Mailing List

  Further Reading: When Love Leads To Scandal

  By Sophie Barnes

  Novels

  The Forgotten Duke

  More Than A Rogue

  The Infamous Duchess

  No Ordinary Duke

  The Illegitimate Duke

  The Girl Who Stepped Into The Past

  The Duke of Her Desire

  Christmas at Thorncliff Manor

  A Most Unlikely Duke

  His Scandalous Kiss

  The Earl’s Complete Surrender

  Lady Sarah’s Sinful Desires

  The Danger in Tempting an Earl

  The Scandal in Kissing an Heir

  The Trouble with Being a Duke

  The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda

  There’s Something About Lady Mary

  Lady Alexandra’s Excellent Adventure

  How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back

  Novellas

  When Love Leads To Scandal

  Miss Compton’s Christmas Romance

  The Duke Who Came To Town

  The Earl Who Loved Her

  The Governess Who Captured His Heart

  Mistletoe Magic (from Five Golden Rings: A Christmas Collection)

  Chapter One

  Marriage.

  For most of the young men with whom James Townsbridge was acquainted, this was the most dreaded word in the English language. For James himself, however, the word was synonymous with comfort and joy, loyalty and love. After all, his parents were happily married and so was his older brother, Charles. He and Bethany, his wife of two years, made no secret about the fact they adored each other. So James always found it strange when his friends spoke of eventually ‘doing their duty’ with dread in their eyes and as if they were waiting for some terrifying fate to befall them.

  Granted, James could appreciate the fact that marriages of convenience existed, that they could result in mismatched husbands and wives, and that he would be able to avoid such a dreadful catastrophe with greater ease than some of the other bachelors London had to offer. After all, he wasn’t the heir to anything, and as such, he could be more liberal when choosing his bride.

  The most important thing, in his estimation, was to pick wisely. And since he was now six and twenty, the same age Charles had been when he married Bethany, James had decided it was time to start looking for the right woman with whom to spend the rest of his life.

  With this in mind, he maintained a constant awareness of all the young ladies arriving in the Pratchard ballroom while trying to ignore the crippling headache he’d had all day. As a result, his attention to the conversation going on around him was limited, making his sister Athena’s comment about a diamond-encrusted wig and butterfly wings sound completely nonsensical.

  “It’s a bit predictable, isn’t it?” inquired James’s younger brother, William.

  “What about a dress entwined by ivy?” James's other sister, Sarah, suggested. “You'd look like an ancient ruin, which I believe would be far more original.”

  Athena clapped her hands together. “Oh yes.” She beamed as though she'd just discovered Atlantis, and for a moment, James managed to ignore the fact that his brain felt as though it were being run over by a carriage.

  Honestly, he ought to have stayed home in bed. Better yet, he should have refrained from getting foxed last night. But he'd been out, celebrating the final moments of Mr. Hugh Ravenough's freedom. And as Hugh’s longtime friend, he didn’t want to miss the celebration.

  “With a bird perched on my head.”

  James blinked. “What?” He stared at Athena in stupefied wonder. Clearly, he had missed something, or perhaps she'd finally taken that extra step required to enter pure insanity. Or maybe his blasted headache made it impossible for him to understand basic conversation.

  He eyed William to gauge his reaction and saw that he was grinning. And then he said, “I could bring shears.”

  James sighed while Sarah, Athena, and William laughed like a mob of mad pixies.

  Oh, if only he'd been paying attention. And if only his head didn't ache as if it were being beaten by spiky clubs wielded by an army of angry trolls.

  “I don’t believe I’ve met her before,” Sarah was now saying in a lower voice.

  “Who?” James forced himself to ask so he could follow this new subject of conversation. But rather than answer, Sarah glanced toward the left. James shifted his gaze and instinctively straightened his back. Approaching were the Marquess and Marchioness of Foxborough. They appeared to be accompanying a young lady whom he'd never seen before.

  James considered her as he had so many others. She wasn't exactly beautiful – at least not in the classical sense – but she wasn't plain either. Her hair was neither blonde nor brown, and while he initially found her face to be too round, he decided it suited her and that he rather liked her features. In fact, upon further consideration, he had to acknowledge that he would be hard pressed to find a better mouth than hers. It was just right: softly curved at the top and full on the bottom.

  What James did not like, however, was the hint of displeasure in the young lady's eyes and the stiffness with which she carried herself. Everything about her seemed to say, “I'd rather be anywhere else but here.”

  “Good evening,” Lord Foxborough said. James and his siblings greeted the marquess and marchioness politely then prepared themselves for the inevitable introduction. “I would like to present our daughter, Lady Abigail.” His expression was warm and inviting – the exact opposite of Lady Abigail’s. Indeed, her frozen features made her look more like a painting than a real flesh and blood person. It also gave her a certain aloofness that James didn’t care for.

  “A pleasure,” Athena said. “I am Miss Athena and this is my older sister, Miss Townsbridge.”

  “Delighted,” Sarah added.

  William bowed and murmured a very distinct, “Enchanted,” to which James almost rolled his eyes.

  And then it was his turn to speak. Only the moment happened to coincide with another sharp stab to his skull. He gritted his teeth and felt his entire face tighten up in response to the pain. “Ugh,” he grunted, earning a stunned look of surprise from everyone except Lady Abigail, who was now studying the floor. Wincing, he gave a stiff nod in acknowledgement of the introduction while biting back another guttural response to the horrid sensation of having nails driven into his head. If it hadn’t been for his mother insisting he make an appearance, he’d be home in bed.

  “Our daughter isn’t acquainted with many young ladies her own age,” Lady Foxborough said. She scowled at James before returning her attention to his sisters. “We tend to favor the country, you see, but since the time has come for her to make h
er debut, we have no choice but to spend more time here in Town.” She smiled and a brief moment of awkward silence followed.

  Until Sarah said, “Perhaps we can take a turn about the room together, Lady Abigail?”

  Lady Abigail gave an almost indistinct nod. “Yes,” she whispered in a strained voice that made her lack of enthusiasm clear.

  James’s dislike of her doubled. She might be a marquess’s daughter, but he and his sisters were Viscount George Roxley’s children. And while it was true that Charles had caused a bit of a scandal two years ago when he’d stolen his friend’s fiancée, and Society was only now starting to forget Athena’s involvement in this, Lady Abigail ought to be pleased with the prospect of keeping their company. She should at the very least have thanked Sarah for the offer.

  But since she hadn’t, James decided right then and there that he would rather be elsewhere. Somewhere far away from Lady Abigail’s upturned nose. Especially since he was barely able to think on account of his headache. Lord, he really should have stayed home tonight.

  The very thought of a blissfully silent room shrouded in darkness was almost enough to make him sigh with longing. “Excuse me,” he heard himself say in a tone that sounded far more annoyed than he had intended. And then, taking a step back, he glanced at his siblings and said, “I have to go.” Upon which he simply left, leaving them to apologize on his behalf.

  A little surprised by the lack of guilt he felt over being so rude, James quit the ballroom and sought out the nearest sanctuary. Perhaps a brief rest would help ease his suffering. Perhaps, if he felt better later, he’d ask Lady Abigail to dance to make up for his lack of good manners.

  Or perhaps he’d simply forget having met her.

  Now there was something worth hoping for, he decided as he sneaked inside a dark room and closed the door behind him.

  WHAT A HORRID MAN.

  Abigail still couldn’t fathom how poorly Mr. James Townsbridge had treated not only herself but her parents. By contrast, his sisters were a delight. Even Mr. William Townsbridge, who seemed to be quite a bit younger, had proven far more courteous than his older brother. He’d even signed her dance card, for which she was very grateful, since she’d always enjoyed dancing.

  But Mr. James Townsbridge...

  She’d seen him for the first time three years ago when she and her parents had spent a brief time in London while Parliament was in session. Her father usually came to Town by himself whenever business required it, but that time, he’d brought his family with him. And during one warm spring day while riding by carriage through Hyde Park, Abigail had spotted him - the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life.

  He’d been walking with his sisters she realized now after having met Miss Townsbridge and Lady Athena. And he’d been smiling in response to something they were saying, which had instantly caused a bubbly sensation in the pit of Abigail’s belly. At fifteen she’d been smitten, and had looked for Mr. Townsbridge again when she’d come to Town last Christmas.

  This time, she’d encountered him at the theatre where he’d been seated in a box almost directly opposite her, together with his entire family. Since then, she’d daydreamed about her coming out and him gallantly inviting her to dance. But of course this was just a dream, because when it actually came to meeting the man, her stomach had starting flopping around until she’d feared she might be sick all over him or one of his siblings. And her heart had been pounding too, while a wave of uncomfortable heat crept over her skin. Putting on a smile and pretending she was all right had proven a challenge. Speech had been near impossible.

  And her illusion about James Townsbridge himself had shattered.

  She'd sensed his dislike of her right from the start. With one singular glance he'd found her lacking. Well, she disliked him as well now, though this acknowledgement didn't make her feel any better. On the contrary it was rather depressing.

  “You must excuse our brother's deplorable manners,” Miss Townsbridge said as they made their way along the periphery of the room.

  “He was being a twit,” Miss Athena added with such forceful certainty that Abigail had to press her lips together in order not to laugh. She liked the youngest member of the Townsbridge family very much, even though she would never confess to sharing her opinion of her brother.

  “It's a pity you had to experience him like this,” Miss Townsbridge remarked. “He's usually agreeable and a great deal of fun to be around. Which probably explains his immense popularity.”

  At this, Abigail snorted. It happened involuntarily and caught her by surprise. Like a sneeze. “Sorry,” she said, except the word did not leave her mouth with even the slightest bit of sincerity. Instead, it was mumbled under her breath while heat rushed into her cheeks.

  Miss Townsbridge and Miss Athena looked at her with raised eyebrows. And then Miss Athena said, “Do you have any brothers, Lady Abigail?”

  Abigail nodded. “Lance is three years older than I,” she said, hoping to leave it at that. But of course the information she’d supplied wasn’t enough for her two new friends. They wanted details. And as Abigail provided the answers to a seemingly endless list of questions, her annoyance with their brother faded and she began to relax.

  “So he’s not without flaws, then, is he?” Miss Townsbridge politely inquired when they'd all finished laughing over Abigail's account about Lance’s once swinging a door open so hard it hit their younger sister, Petra, smack in the face.

  “Of course not,” Abigail said.

  Miss Athena smiled. “Perhaps you will keep that in mind before you judge our own brother too harshly. Poor judgment doesn't necessarily denote poor character.”

  And just like that, having been put firmly in her place, the calm sense of ease Abigail had enjoyed for the last few minutes abandoned her completely. Her face burned with shame and her eyes began to prick with the realization that she had ruined the chance she'd had of being friends with these women. They thought her too critical of others, and perhaps they were right.

  Perhaps it hadn’t been her but something else that had caused him to act as he had.

  “I’m sorry,” she said while embarrassment snaked its way around her, squeezing her until she knew she had to escape. So she took a step back, and then another. “Please forgive me. I meant no offense.”

  “Oh indeed, we did not mean to imply...” Miss Townsbridge began. A look of concern marred her features.

  But now that Abigail was already fleeing, it seemed there was no stopping her retreat. Without waiting to hear the rest of Miss Townsbridge’s sentence, she spun around and quickened her pace. The nervousness Mr. James Townsbridge had evoked returned, and the supper she'd had at home earlier in the evening began climbing up her throat. It was much too hot and overcrowded; the thick smell of perfume mixed with candle wax and roses put on display, making the air hard to breathe.

  Desperately, Abigail glanced toward the doors leading out to the terrace. Fresh air and privacy existed beyond them. But only if she managed to circumvent the crowd blocking her path.

  Her skin pricked in response to the sheen of moisture that started to gather between her shoulder blades. She sucked in a breath and felt her throat constrict in response to the stuffy heat.

  Guided by her reflexes, she hurried through an archway leading out to the hallway beyond the ballroom. The air was better out here but the need to find solace in a place where she could gather her thoughts and her composure without being disturbed made her head toward a closed door a little farther along.

  She tried the handle and the door gave way, opening toward a room where black shadows hid the walls. Only a purple hue entering through a tall window offered some semblance of light. Fearing the sanctuary she had just found would be snatched from her grasp if she lingered in the doorway, Abigail slipped quickly inside and closed the door.

  A wave of relief washed over her, cooling her and offering comfort. Her muscles relaxed, teasing away the nausea she'd felt since coming face
to face with Mr. James Townsbridge. The silence that filled the room was blessed indeed, and she savored it as she crossed to the window and opened the latch to a welcome waft of cool air. She inhaled deeply through her nose and was instantly rewarded with the fresh smell of jasmine from the garden beyond.

  With a sigh, she smoothed the white muslin skirt of her gown and turned her gaze on the room behind her. The furniture stood silhouetted like irregular shapes emerging from the darkness. Identifying what appeared to be a sofa, Abigail made her way toward it, muttering lightly beneath her breath when her shin connected with a corner table. She went around it, moving her feet with small careful steps in case there were other obstacles in her path.

  Locating the sofa's armrest, she walked her fingers along its length until she was certain she had a solid hold. She then turned and sat, momentarily caught off guard by the uneven lumpiness beneath her. Until the lumpiness moved and a low voice muttered a curse.

  Before she could leap to her feet, something grabbed her and pulled her close, like an octopus dragging its prey down into the depths of the ocean.

  Startled, Abigail acted on instinct and screamed.

  Chapter Two

  If there was something James had always hated, it was being forced awake before he was ready. But sleeping through the jolt that passed through him the moment a large irregular form landed in his lap was impossible.

  Torn from the blissful dream he’d been having of picking up shells along the shore and discovering what appeared to be a treasure chest, he was momentarily disorientated and reached out frantically with both hands. The body in his lap screamed, jarring his headache back to life and causing him to curse with the fury of a man who’d just been stabbed.

  The door to the parlor opened, illuminating the room with light from the hallway. James felt an odd tug on his arm but ignored it. Instead, he tried to sit up – just enough to look over the back of the sofa.