Saving Lady Abigail: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abby Ayles

  “Oh,” Lord Heshing said, trying to play his words casually, “I am sure for much older ladies who have already had their time in the light, it is great excitement when others seem to have their turn at courtship.”

  “But we are not courting, Lord Heshing,” she said in reply.

  “No, I suppose not entirely. Not yet, at least,” Heshing answered back, with his eyes ahead of him.

  A soft blush rose to Lady Abigail’s cheeks. A few moments passed as they rode along in silence.

  “Tell me about Wintercrest,” Lord Heshing said after a beat.

  “What would you like to know?” Lady Abigail replied.

  “Well, it must seem very exhausting there, what with your brother’s family.”

  “It is not just Christian’s family in the house, but my mother and myself besides. Of course, little Jackie too. Though she probably would rather not be called little Jackie any longer.”

  “And who is this little Jackie that is much too big to be called little?”

  Lady Abigail laughed at herself. She was often one to speak her mind whether the company understood or not.

  “She is my eldest brother’s daughter. She came to stay at the estate from France when she was around five years old. She is a very dear child to me.”

  “But perhaps not a child anymore, judging from your comment?”

  “No, I suppose not. At least, not for much longer. Jackie is twelve this summer.”

  Lady Abigail thought of her niece, as well as the twins. Lady Abigail was always sorry to be away from them. She loved her family dearly and hated the idea of being away from them for long.

  “Well, it must be quite a busy place at the Wintercrest estates when you are all home.”

  “Not at all, actually,” Lady Abigail said. “You could fit our whole family three times over in the manor and still have plenty of room to spare.”

  “How very fortunate,” Heshing replied.

  He paused for a moment and she worried that she sounded prideful in her expression.

  “I didn’t mean to brag about my brother’s estates,” she said, trying her best to backtrack.

  “Of course not,” the earl said, turning his head to her. “I understood your meaning completely. You must enjoy being with your family very much.”

  Lady Abigail saw the sincerity in his words. She usually didn’t care one wit what others thought of her. But the thought that Lord Heshing might think she was prideful had sent a knot to her stomach.

  “I confess, it does sound lovely,” Heshing continued. “I rarely visit my country seat. It is so lonely in that home all by myself.”

  “Yes,” Lady Abigail said, realizing that the Earl of Heshing was now the last of his family. “I can understand why you must find your London residence more to your liking. I would hate to be in a big country estate all by myself.”

  Lady Abigail shivered, even with the warmth of the sun. It must be a somber and lonely period Lord Heshing was in. Lady Abigail spent much of her life with other people. She had a hard time imagining what it was like to be completely alone.

  For some reason, in that moment, her mind trailed to the Earl of Gilchrist. According to Isabella and Lady Louisa, he had continued to shut himself up for the most part of the days in his office. He only ventured out when it was absolutely necessary for business matters.

  She wondered how he managed such a life of solitude. According to Lady Louisa, he scarcely spoke more than a word or two to either her or their mother. Lady Abigail couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go days on end without interaction or conversation.

  “There are plenty of diversions here to keep me busy,” Heshing interrupted her thought. “I have found one in particular that I like this season,” he added, winking in Lady Abigail’s direction.

  “Where is Abigail?” the duke asked of his wife when he walked into the small drawing room of their London home.

  The duchess had been seated by the hearth for some time working on her sewing. It was becoming tedious. She hoped that the duke might stop in so that she could convince him to take a turn around the park with her. She felt in desperate need of fresh air.

  “Lord Heshing called for tea. Now they are taking a turn about the park.”

  “Lord Heshing? Again?”

  The duke came up to his wife and gently kissed her on the head before taking a seat opposite her. Grabbing a shortbread still left out on a tray, he popped it in his mouth.

  “I believe it’s the third time this week,” Isabella informed him.

  The duke huffed. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

  “Perhaps he is taking too much of a liking to her,” he said with a furrow of his rose brows.

  “I am fairly certain that she is taking an equal liking to him," Isabella replied.

  The duke looked at his wife utterly surprised. She shook her head and laughed.

  Men knew so little about the few tidbits of affection that women showed. Of course, he was probably even more oblivious since it was his little sister.

  “What makes you think that?” he asked as he stretched his long legs out on the rug and settled into his seat.

  Isabella had a feeling that his relaxed posture meant he would be less willing to take her out for some fresh air.

  “Well, it's fairly obvious, dear,” Isabella said, setting aside her sewing. Her delicate fingers needed the break.

  “First, Abigail would never let a gentleman take her out three times in one week if she didn’t show some interest in him. Such frequent public encounters would catch the attention of the ton and be spoken about.”

  “Maybe she didn’t realize that,” the duke said, reaching for another shortbread.

  “I highly doubt that,” Isabella countered. “Even if that was the case, she talks about Lord Heshing incessantly. She finds him a very worthy suitor, whether she even realizes it or not.”

  “And what if I don’t?” the duke countered.

  “She is your little sister—would you ever?” Isabella responded with a soft laugh at her husband.

  The duke seemed to think this over for a minute. Isabella worried for little Elisabeth back home. Heaven help her when the Duke of Wintercrest's daughter was finally old enough to make her way into society.

  The duke softened into a smile.

  “I suppose it would be difficult for me to accept any man catching my little sister’s eye. It is not that, however.”

  “What is it then?” Isabella asked with concern.

  “Nothing that is very serious,” he said, waving away her worry. “Just some talk at White's. I didn’t know much about him and asked around a bit after that day at the races. He seemed to know so much about me…”

  The duke trailed off. Isabella did her best to ignore the fact that her husband’s inquiry stemmed from the fact that the other gentleman knew more about him.

  “So what was it that made you question his worthiness?”

  “He seems to be a good chap. Nothing that would be considered ungentlemanly. But some characteristics that would make me hesitate to allow my sister to marry him.”

  He paused for a moment, and Isabella waited for him to explain more.

  “He seems to spend a lot of time at White’s, to start.”

  “Well, he is a single gentleman. It's a reputable place to spend one’s time, isn’t it?” Isabella asked.

  “Yes. Apparently, the Earl of Heshing spends all of that time at the gambling table.”

  “I see,” Isabella said, lowering her eyes to the hands resting on her small lump.

  Isabella knew well how excessive gaming could affect a family. Her own father had spent far more than he had in the same fashion. The result left her destitute at his death. It was not a memory that stirred good emotions.

  “Is he very irresponsible with it? I know it is common for men to do such things for entertainment. But, of course, there is that line that some men seem to cross, beyond entertainment.”

  Isabella thoug
ht of her sister-in-law. She would not wish her to marry a man who might put her in the same financial situation that Isabella had experienced.

  In the few encounters that the duchess had with Lord Heshing, he seemed like a decent man. He was handsome, charming and had a humorous way about his words that brought a smile to anyone.

  Her father too had been a natural at hiding his vice. She had never even seen a hint of his problems. Perhaps this Lord Heshing was not so severely taken by gambling as her father, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be.

  Isabella did want Abigail to be happy, and she seemed to be so these last few days with Lord Heshing. But a husband that could bring consistent stability would be of more value than a fluttering of heart now.

  “Perhaps this is something we should bring to her attention?” Isabella said.

  “I have considered that. I would not want to tarnish another gentleman’s reputation unwarrantedly. I only have the knowledge that he does frequent White’s and that isn’t really enough to put him in the same lot as…”

  The duke trailed off for a moment.

  “As my father,” Isabella added for him.

  He gave his wife a sorrowful look. It was not her choice that she had been brought into a family with a father that cared more about his cards than his family.

  Sometimes it still truly infuriated him that a man would not only leave his financial situation in such a state with a young daughter to look after, but that he also left all he had in the hands of a cruel man upon his death. How had a father, who seemed to care for his daughter, not seen how wrong it was to leave her in the clutches of his business partner?

  “It is something we should be aware of, and watch closely for any signs that he might not be a proper choice for her. Only then should we bring it to Abigail’s attention.”

  Chapter 12

  The Earl of Gilchrist was in an exceptionally temperamental mood this morning. His father had invested in some lands in the Virginia territories, and he needed to make a monthly meeting with the solicitor who oversaw them.

  His father had made this a regular meeting at White’s. In the time between his death and with Colton unable to leave the hospital, the solicitor had done all the overseeing himself. Now with the earl here in London and a great need to make sure his property was being managed well, Colton had no choice but to meet the man at the pre-arranged appointment.

  Lord Gilchrist told himself that he was going to be riding in a carriage and walking into a building where he would have a relatively private meal with a man who knew his family well. There was no need for him to worry about how others treated his scars. Still, he was anxious.

  He dressed himself in his most excellent morning jacket. He had never been one to overly care about his clothing, but now he seemed to overcompensate for the disfigurement. He chose a shirt with a high collar and a thick tie to hide as much of his scars as possible.

  In truth, they ran down the whole left side of his body to his knee. The little portion that was shown on his face didn’t even compare to what was unseen. He could only imagine how people would react if they could actually see the damage done to his body.

  He hurried into his carriage, making the distance between the front door and the cover of the vehicle as short as possible. It was not easy to move quickly. Lord Gilchrist's left leg still needed substantial assistance from his cane.

  Lord Gilchrist had been assured that, over time, his leg would heal from the garish gashes that cut through his thigh and soon he wouldn’t even remember having a slight limp.

  Over a year later since the event, he was still in great pain with every step that put weight on that leg. It was accurate that in the beginning he couldn’t walk at all, so comparatively he had improved. Lord Gilchrist could not ever see a future when he wouldn’t need his cane, however.

  Maybe it was because of the awkward motion of his attempt at a quick walk that he caught the attention of two ladies and their maids walking down the street. Gilchrist tipped his head lower to cover their view. It was late enough in the morning that all the early mist had been burned away, affording him no cover.

  “There is the earl I spoke of, the one who is more monster than man,” one lady whispered to the other.

  The earl may have been missing most of the ear on the side of the ladies, but it still functioned properly, and he heard every word she whispered.

  His face burned red with rage as he slipped into his carriage, not even removing his hat before entering.

  He would make sure to tell the lawyer that they would be meeting in his residence from now on. He did not need to suffer this type of embarrassment or ridicule.

  He arrived at White’s and entered the building with little incident. There was a footman at the door who greeted him kindly as he took the earl’s hat and outer coat. It was sad to the earl that the paid help was more willing to treat him as they always did than his own kind.

  “Mr. Henderson is already here and waiting for you, my lord,” the footman informed him.

  Gilchrist nodded in understanding. He was about to follow behind him when a commotion caught his attention. He looked just down the hall to see the proprietor speaking with a gentleman. Whatever he was saying was very upsetting, for the gentleman was having trouble keeping his voice at a proper level.

  Lord Gilchrist had been a patron of the establishment since he was a young lord and had often come here with his father. He knew the proprietor, James White, very well and found him a most reasonable man.

  Instead of following the footman, he forgot his garish face and walked over to aid the disagreement in any way he could.

  “Mr. White, is there something I could be of help with here?” Gilchrist said.

  He saw, now that he was closer, that the offending gentleman was the Earl of Heshing. He had never actually met the man, though Gilchrist had seen him from time to time.

  “It’s a private conversation, chap, so if you don’t mind—Dear God!” Heshing exclaimed as he turned to smart off to Gilchrist.

  It was easy to see that he was teetering out of control with whatever was conspiring between the two of them. Turning to face the Earl of Gilchrist had made him take a visible step back.

  “Something wrong, chap?” Gilchrist spat back with a raise of his brow.

  Lord Gilchrist had determined at that moment that he didn’t care for Heshing and instead thought to turn and walk away.

  “No,” Heshing said, slowly trying to regain himself. “You must be Lord Gilchrist. Your, um, reputation, precedes you,” he said with a slight bow. The scars on Lord Gilchrist’s face entranced Heshing.

  Gilchrist looked away from the offending earl and, instead, turned to Mr. White.

  “Is there something I can assist you with?”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Mr. White said with a soft bow. He cared not a whit for Lord Gilchrist’s deformed face and looked at him, grateful for the added help.

  “I was just telling the Earl of Heshing that it was my unfortunate task to inform him that he would no longer be welcome in this establishment.”

  “It’s absolutely preposterous,” Heshing burst out. “My family have been members here for generations.”

  “Be that as it may,” Mr. White said uncomfortably with this news. “You have built up a significant bill at the tables. Until you pay off a portion of that, I cannot allow you to be a member here.”

  “This is not something I enjoy doing, but it is part of house policy,” Mr. White said by way of explanation to Lord Gilchrist.

  “Nothing to worry about, Heshing,” Lord Gilchrist said. “Just pay the amount and be on your way.”

  “This is an insult and I refuse to pay on those grounds,” Heshing responded. “My father would never have been treated as such.”

  “With all due respect, my Lord, your father never had such a significant amount owed.”

  “It can’t be all that bad,” Lord Gilchrist said with a laugh.

  He too had kept a running bala
nce from time to time when luck was low. So often, gentlemen didn’t carry purses of cash on them, and it was custom for the house to foot the bill for a period of time. That being said, Gilchrist always settled his accounts within a short amount of time, never letting it gather.

  He knew that not all the lords had the same respect for timely repayment as him. From time to time, Mr. White might need to remind a patron of cost owed. Very rarely did that result in such an outburst.

  “Just pay the amount.”

  “As if I had the funds on me,” Heshing spat back.

  Gilchrist wasn’t at all enjoying his tone. Of course, Heshing had to be embarrassed by this confrontation by Mr. White, but he was only making it worse for himself.

  “How much?" Gilchrist asked Mr. White.

  He didn’t particularly like Heshing at the moment, but it was a typical act for one earl to help out another. Gilchrist did have the means on him at that moment to rectify the situation and proper breeding dictated that he do so.

  “One hundred and sixty-two pounds,” Mr. White said after a moment of review over his ledger.

  Now it was Gilchrist’s turn for shock. Over one hundred pounds! It was an offensive amount to owe. No wonder Mr. White was asking him to remove himself from the premises till paid.

  “How is it even possible to allow an account to run so high without notice?” Gilchrist asked of the owner.

  “Unfortunately, this is just from last night,” Mr. White responded.

  For a man to gamble away such a vast amount in one night was mind-boggling. Gilchrist looked over at the other earl, full of confusion. His face was red with rage over this uncomfortable conversation.

  “I’m afraid, where I would normally help, I don’t currently have that amount of funds on me,” Gilchrist said.

  “As I said, I didn't ask for your help,” Heshing spat back, narrowing his eyes on Gilchrist.

  Lord Gilchrist couldn’t help but be satisfied with the fact that he couldn’t help, for honor would have dictated he do so.

  Really, Gilchrist could have offered to pay at least a portion to appease the owner, but he didn't particularly want to for this gentleman. He would have sooner taken Heshing in a round of boxing than see even a portion of his bill paid at that moment.