Abigail might have been insulted by his very obvious relief. In fact, she would have been if she’d truly set her cap for the man. But she had no real interest in the major and so she was merely intrigued. “Would it be so very dreadful to be the object of my affection?”
He blinked at her. “Are you being sincere right now or is this another one of your games?”
“Another one of my games?” she shot back. “Have you known me to play games before?”
“Yes.” His gaze was direct. “Wasn’t that what last night was all about? I cannot pretend to know why you wished to be seen dancing with me, but your means of going about it wasn’t exactly subtle. You were up to something.”
She met his level gaze evenly. “Very well. Perhaps I do enjoy my games.”
He made a hmph noise that was somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”
Honest? Her? Hardly.
“Why don’t you save us both some trouble and tell me what you need from me.” Major Mayfield’s voice was stern, but not unkind. And the look in his eyes…
She swallowed thickly. It wasn’t just kindness. It was understanding, too. Or at least, his gaze said that he wished to understand.
“Lady Abigail.” His voice was little more than a growl. “Tell me what you’re up to.”
She tipped her chin up. “Believe it or not, I came over here to save you.”
His brows shot up. “Oh, so you’re saving me again? From what? A pleasant afternoon in the sun?”
She smiled at his teasing. “I’ve just saved you from Sir Geoffrey, haven’t I?”
All amusement fled his features as he frowned down at her. The look in his eyes somewhere between unhappy and...disappointed.
She sucked in a quick breath as her stomach twisted in the face of his disappointment.
“Sir Geoffrey is a war hero, Lady Abigail. He deserves to be treated as such.”
She blinked rapidly as a horrible sensation swept over her. Shame. For a moment she saw herself as he saw her and she was just like Charlotte. No, she was worse, because she couldn’t even pretend to be kind. “You’re right.” She barely recognized her own voice, it was so scratchy and raw. She cleared her throat and tried again. “You are right. I apologize.”
“It’s not me you ought to apologize to,” he murmured. He ran a hand through his dark hair and glanced around, no doubt ensuring Sir Geoffrey hadn’t overheard from where he stood just paces away with her mother.
“You’re right,” she said for a third time. He couldn’t know how rare that was. She wasn’t certain she’d ever admitted to being in the wrong before, and certainly not three times in a row.
His sigh was weary when he turned back to her. “I want no part of this.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “But you don’t even know what I’m proposing.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve heard enough about your antics to know—”
“I thought you don’t listen to gossip,” she snapped.
He tilted his head down. “I was at the Arundel party, remember? Not to mention, I have eyes and ears, Lady Abigail.”
She clamped her mouth shut, suddenly feeling for all the world like a child. She hadn’t done anything wrong at the Arundel party. She pursed her lips as memories came back to her. Trying too hard to gain the marquess’s notice, speaking ill of the woman who was now his bride…
“All right, fine,” she said at last. “I will admit I haven’t always behaved...well.”
His lips twitched and she narrowed her eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Of course not.”
“But I’ve always had my reasons.”
His answering stare was unimpressed.
“It’s not all fun and games out there,” she said, horrified beyond belief to hear her mother’s longtime mantra coming out of her mouth. “People must do whatever they need to in order to survive.”
“She tells the man who’s fought in a war,” he murmured softly.
Heat stole up her neck and into her cheeks. There was nothing aggressive nor cruel in his tone. He was merely speaking the truth.
And she was merely speaking like a spoiled entitled lady of the ton.
She looked away. “Yes. Fine. You are right. I will not try to justify my former actions any longer.”
He was quiet for so long that she forced herself to look back his way just to see what he was thinking. It was impossible to say.
“You don’t need to justify anything to anyone,” he said. “But if you’re truly sorry about any of your past words or deeds, perhaps it is time to change course.”
His words struck her somewhere between her ribs and her throat. They seemed to lodge there, not letting her speak. No one talked to her like this. No one, but certainly not an eligible young man.
Her mother’s fake laughter beside them brought her back to the moment. Back to herself. She forced a sunny smile. “Perhaps you are right. Which is why you’ll be happy to hear that I meant what I said. I’m here to help you.” She glanced meaningfully toward Charlotte who was sneaking glances in their direction as well.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She smiled and adopted the bravado tone that made gentlemen grin even as they shook their head. “Do you know the most glorious thing about being me, Major Mayfield?”
He arched his brows. “What’s that?”
She leaned in just a hair too close for propriety’s sake and tapped him playfully with her fan. “Everyone wants what I have.”
His brows drew together, first in confusion and then in consternation. “You cannot mean…”
But before he could finish, he was glancing over to see a clearly curious Charlotte staring right back.
Abigail watched him, noting with amusement and a pang of something bittersweet the way he gulped helplessly in the face of Charlotte’s sudden interest. He turned back to her with a clearing of his throat. “And I suppose you mean to tell me that you’re here to help me out of the goodness of your heart?”
She laughed. “Of course not. I have as much need of this ruse as you do.” She laughed again, this time a little louder than necessary as she touched his arm again.
He looked down at her hand on his arm. “This ruse of yours...does it often get you what you want?”
Never. “Almost always. And this time it’s about to benefit you.”
He opened his mouth to retort but they were interrupted by—no surprise at all—Charlotte and her mother. Lady Ainsworth was quick to make the introductions and Abigail tried not to sneer as Charlotte simpered and fluttered her lashes as she curtseyed.
Soon enough, however, Charlotte turned to Abigail. “Lady Abigail, what a delightful surprise. I did not think you’d wish to join us here today.”
The gleam in her eyes had Abigail’s belly knotting in anticipation.
Charlotte’s eyes widened with feigned concern and she lowered her voice, but not so much that everyone around them could not hear. “Lord and Lady Merrick are expected to attend.” She winced as if in sympathy. “I thought perhaps you’d rather not see them, given your history.”
Abigail’s blood ran cold, though she’d steeled her expression well enough to hide it. That tight, knotted sensation sank into the pit of her stomach as she glanced over at Major Mayfield. Had he heard about her history with Lily? The way she’d treated her friend so horribly that first season just so that she could shine? Or worse, had he heard about her disastrous courtship with Merrick and the way she’d dropped him in favor of his brother?
Don’t believe everything you hear, she wanted to tell him. There is more to the story.
But she couldn’t tell from his expression whether Charlotte’s words meant anything to him or not. And even if they did, he’d no doubt believe the sordid tale. Everyone else did. And why shouldn’t he?
She’d given no one, least of all him, any reason to believe that she was anything other than her mother’s daughter.
Alex looked between the two women, his brow furrowing the smallest bit. Was it his imagination or was Charlotte making Abigail uncomfortable?
The brunette’s expression was so simply demure that he could hardly believe Charlotte had been intentional in her barbs, but he could feel Abigail shift next to him, her chin dropping the tiniest bit. The part of him that wanted to rush in and protect had the urge to step in front of Abigail and shield her from...from the woman he intended to court.
He gave himself a mental shake. Perhaps Max had good cause to be concerned, after all. Abigail was clearly working her way into his thoughts and planting little seeds of doubt into his plans.
He straightened.
He didn’t allow anyone to distract him when he had a mission.
Miss Charlotte cleared her throat. “But perhaps they’ll leave early. Many of the guests here at the picnic are on their way to Lord and Lady Arundel’s home for a brief repose from London.”
“I received an invitation as well.” Abigail notched her chin.
“Did you?” Charlotte asked, giving the smallest smirk. “I’m so glad they still include you.”
Alex straightened, resisting the urge to once again step in front of Abigail. Not that she needed rescuing. If any woman could care for herself, it was this one.
“I’m glad too,” Abigail answered, her voice as pleasant as if they were discussing the weather. “They are a wonderful group of ladies.”
“You used to be friends with the duchess, didn’t you?”
Alex cleared his throat. Though Abigail didn’t need his saving, he couldn't help but step in. “Will you be there, Miss Charlotte?”
“I will.” She smiled at him. “And yourself?”
“Yes,” he answered, his brow furrowing. Visiting with Max and Marigold would be wonderful, of course. But there was just a little niggle of doubt about his plan to court Charlotte.
“Perhaps we could stroll about the pond and discuss the party,” Charlotte gave him a hopeful smile even as her mother grimaced, poking her daughter discreetly in the ribs. Charlotte, however, was distracted long enough for Abigail to snap open her fan and whisper from behind its folds. “Say no.”
For a second, he looked at her, completely perplexed. Why would he say no to such an invitation? It was the one he’d been hoping for. But then again, he somehow trusted Abigail to understand this situation better than he himself did. Which struck him as completely odd. When had that happened? “I do apologize, Miss Charlotte, but I am travelling with Lord and Lady Arundel and I must depart the picnic momentarily.”
Charlotte’s mouth turned down, her shoulders slumping for a moment before she perked back up again. “But we shall have plenty of time together this weekend.”
“Indeed,” he answered, giving a final bow as Miss Charlotte departed with her mother. He turned to look at the maven on his other side. Abigail wore a smug smile. “Do you mind telling me why I just denied the very woman I am trying to pursue?”
Her grin widened. “Don’t you know? She wants you even more for the rejection.” She tapped him playfully with her fan. “When it comes to courtship, it’s all about strategy and tactics. You should understand that well, Major.”
His lips parted in surprise as he recognized the truth in her words. He only just stifled a laugh. “I suspect you are quite lethal on this front, Lady Abigail. The French would quake in their boots if they saw you coming.”
Her eyes twinkled at that. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And…” She tilted her head just a touch closer, close enough that he caught her floral scent. “You really ought to consider the arrangement I suggested earlier. We could help one another.”
He had no doubt that was true. But something in the offer felt...dishonest. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I’ll have to refuse. Charlotte will like me for my own merits or not at all.”
She gave him a long look, her gaze penetrating until she finally spoke. “Major Mayfield, you might be one of the finest men I have ever met.”
And with that, she turned away and collected her mother. He watched them depart the picnic, their heads huddled together. He saw the footman hand them in, the carriage door close, and he continued to stare until the vehicle was gone. Her parting words stuck with him long after that.
He hadn’t a clue where Charlotte had gone, but he didn’t search the crowd for her as he made his way to his hack.
* * *
The next day he stood on the drive at Max and Marigold’s estate as they greeted guest after guest. They’d been at it nearly an hour when they finally had a break in the carriage line.
“That’s the trouble with living so close to London,” Max grumbled. “Everyone accepts.”
Marigold gave her a husband a sympathetic smile. “Of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the shy one.”
Max placed an arm about his wife’s waist. “You’re doing marvelously as a marchioness, but truly, I won’t mind if we don’t host elaborate parties.”
She gave her husband a sideways glance. “Noted. Truly, I wanted this to be a small event but every person you invite, you worry that you might be snubbing someone else. And then, next thing I knew, the guest list had grown by leaps and bounds.”
Even Alex had to smile at that. It was so like Marigold to end up with a party that made herself wildly uncomfortable while everyone else was glowingly happy.
In response, Max leaned down and grazed her temple with a kiss. “At least our closest friends are here to keep us company while we entertain half of London.”
“Everyone but Daisy,” she answered with a grin. “She’s too far along to travel anywhere.”
“The duchess is enceinte?” Alex asked, just a touch of jealousy tightening his stomach. It reminded him of why he was here. To find a bride and start a family. The only problem? The woman who had dominated his thoughts was not the one he’d made known he wished to court.
He’d hardly given Miss Charlotte a spare thought since the picnic yesterday. Troubling, but true. It was Abigail whom his mind returned to time and again.
The way she’d helped him, her compliment, her strength when Charlotte had unwittingly—or perhaps purposefully—tossed little jabs at her. How beautiful she looked with the sun shining down on her.
He gave his head a shake. He had to stop thinking about Abigail. While he was growing less certain about Charlotte, he did know what he wanted from this life, and a girl with a nose for trouble was not it.
“She is,” Marigold pressed her hands together, her voice rising in breathless excitement. A feeling he understood well. “And she claims to be perfectly miserable. I do believe she is due any day, but I can’t think of it as anything but a blessing.”
“I agree,” he murmured. “And what of your other friend…Lily?” Alex looked at the ground. He was a cad. He knew very well that Lily and her husband had been at the garden party the day before and that there was a history with them and Abigail. And despite his assertion that he didn’t heed gossip, here he was, needling for information in some roundabout fashion that was truly beneath him.
What had gotten into him?
“Lily? Oh yes, she’ll be here. Along with her husband, of course. She and Merrick are wonderfully happy.” Marigold leaned in. “Which is such a blessing. They’d been best friends and then fell out. I’m so glad they came back together.”
“Fell out?” he asked.
Max gave him a meaningful stare over Marigold’s head. Did his friend know what he was up to?
“Well, he started courting Lily’s best friend of the time, Lady Abigail. You danced with her the other night, I believe.” Marigold delicately cleared her throat. “Lily felt betrayed, though to be fair, she and Merrick were only friends at the time. But it all resolved itself when Abigail tossed Merrick over for his older brother.”
That made his chin snap back. Because obviously her choice had not resulted in a match. “But—”
Max grimaced. “It was a bit of a scandal
. People questioned her morals for the move. If she’d ended up a marchioness…”
Alex understood. Abigail’s comment the day before about strategy and tactics came back to him, along with an odd tug of sadness on her behalf. Women made such tactical choices all the time. It was their duty to find the best provider. If she’d succeeded, she’d have been a raving success—but she’d failed. “And it has tarnished her future prospects.”
“Perhaps,” Marigold shrugged. “She’s remarkably tenacious and she’s still the daughter of a duke with a large dowry.”
But it left her open to barbs from all sorts of people. And she took them with a notched chin and a straight spine.
“But since then, she and Lily have steered clear of one another,” Max continued.
“Yes,” his wife agreed. “Lady Abigail is invited to every event, of course. Her station demands it. But she at least has enough sense of tact to give Lily a wide berth now that she and Merrick are happily wed.”
Alex nodded in understanding but his mind was lost in thought. So that was what all that had been about between her Charlotte the day before.
Max’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present and he looked over to see Max giving him a sly grin. “What she’s saying, old friend, is that you don’t have to worry about Lady Abigail stealing any more dances and getting in your way.” He arched his brows meaningfully and Marigold shot him a small, knowing smile.
His intentions toward Charlotte were public knowledge now, he supposed. Another carriage rumbled up the drive, breaking the lull.
But as his gaze drifted to the vehicle, he rubbed the back of his neck in surprise. Because after staring at that carriage yesterday, he’d recognize it anywhere. And he knew precisely who was inside. He let out a huff of air that fell somewhere between amusement, awe, and utter exasperation.
Lady Abigail Purewater.
She’d come. Despite the fact that her and Lily clearly had a history, and Abigail was not entirely welcome, she’d come anyhow.
A Hero for Lady Abigail Page 4
