Miss Watson's First Scandal (A Miss Mayhem Novella)

by Heather Boyd

  “Ah, perhaps not the young man for you.”

  She twisted her hands together. “I felt so bad for refusing. Imogen and I are the best of friends but Walter is . . .”

  He laughed at her inability to describe their rather staid neighbor. “Walter.”

  She threw both hands up in the air. “Exactly. He’s not dashing or heroic. He’s pleasant but unexciting,” she complained softly.

  Miss Watson had clearly spent some time determining what she didn’t want in a suitor. What she might want intrigued him. “And you require excitement?” David scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw and grimaced at how rough he must appear. “I imagine dashing off to suitor number two’s rendezvous could have proved an adventure.”

  Her brow rose haughtily. “That would depend on your definition of excitement.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  David spluttered at her bold answer, unable to believe the direction their conversation had taken. Never in a million years had he thought of engaging in banter of this nature with his innocent young neighbor. He leaned forward, eager for her next response. “There’s more than one?”

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “In my experience, yes.”

  David stifled a laugh as he sat back. Quite a bit had altered in the last year and in Abigail’s case the changes were rather pleasing. “I still find it hard to remember you’re all grown up. Sometimes I still think of you sneaking apples from our tree, your long hair tangled in the branches.”

  “I haven’t been that young or naïve in quite a while.” Abigail stood and reached beyond him, stretching to grab the tray he’d set aside. Because of her position, her bottom was enticingly displayed before him.

  The image of young Abigail Watson was banished forever, replaced by the siren leaning over his lap. He clenched the sheet and groaned. “And other times I can barely think. Abigail, take yourself out of my house before I do something we will both regret.”

  She lifted the tray, her smile serene and unaffected by his warning as she lingered at the bedside. “I still need your help, but if you think better with clothes on, I’ll await you downstairs in the parlor.”

  If he stripped Abigail of her clothes, and dragged her into his bed, she’d understand his predicament and state of mind. “That would be appreciated.”

  “Oh, and David. What could you possibly do that would give me any regrets?” She disappeared quickly, leaving him with the compelling desire to chase after her to show her exactly what game she’d started by coming into a bachelor’s home alone. He wasn’t so old that he didn’t know how to seduce a woman if he set his mind to it. However, for the present he was undecided about the wisdom of such an action. Given what he knew of Abigail now, he wasn’t sure who’d be seducing whom.

  He listened to her retreating footsteps and breathed a sigh of relief to have behaved as a gentleman despite the temptation. Abigail had taken too great a risk with her reputation by coming here, by not leaving a partially covered man as soon as she discovered him awake. Honor demanded he do the right thing by her, not seduce her. That meant sneaking her out of his house before she was discovered, and, if they were found out, ensuring they married immediately.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and hoped he and Abigail didn’t have to marry because of necessity. In his experience, that sort of union was never a happy one. No matter how the circumstance came about, both parties were often plagued by doubts and insecurities.

  For David, he could imagine a life with Abigail’s honey-soft lips molded to his, her lithe body pressed against him. Conversation, too, would be worth the time spent. He’d always enjoyed their short talks. But he lived in London and worked a great deal. She’d be miserable as his wife.

  He stripped off his robe and dressed in record time, ignoring the stubble darkening his jaw for the present. The sooner he answered her questions, the quicker she could leave. He’d deal with everything else later if action became necessary.

  He rushed down the stairs and barreled into the parlor. Abigail had made herself at home, slippers abandoned, feet curled beside her on the sofa. She’d removed the apron but had not restored her gloves to her hands. To see her arranged so contentedly on his furniture made him wish he were not quite so honorable. After a moment, her cheeks turned a startling shade of red and she scrambled to put the slippers back on. “That was quick. Peter takes an age to dress.”

  “I had a pressing need to hurry.”

  She smiled, and David did his best to convince himself her look was one she might bestow on a favorite uncle. Full of trust. However, he didn’t deserve her trust. He longed to scoop her up in his arms and taste her lips again. He sat in a chair opposite, far enough away that he couldn’t take liberties if the opportunity presented itself. He would treat her as a customer of the bank and not as a pretty young woman with incredibly tempting curves. “Right then, what exactly do you need help with?”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “I’d like to know what would make a man propose marriage.”

  David rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Miss Watson, I’ve never proposed marriage before so I wouldn’t know how to answer that.”

  Her frown returned and he was still smitten. “Well, I had guessed that. You’re unmarried which I find quite ridiculous. But, if you should one day consider it, what might prompt you to go down on bended knee? Theoretically, of course.”

  David laughed. The conversation was simply too absurd. He’d been woken by an adorable virgin, fed, and now questioned about how he would acquire a theoretical future wife. Did Abigail not understand the danger she was in? Dowered or not, a man of lesser character would have tossed her over his shoulder and made her his already. Instead, she waited patiently with her hands folded in her lap. Perhaps she didn’t consider him a catch for marriage after all, and the growing attraction between them was all in his imagination. “First off, I’d want to know we had something in common.”

  “Like a love of Brighton?” she asked.

  He studied her. What could he and Abigail possibly have in common? There was eight years between them in age. He knew her to be generous to those she could help, loyal but occasionally untruthful. However, she’d appeared utterly contrite when he’d caught her the other night and given the impending eviction, he couldn’t hold snooping against her. “Hmm, not so much the attractions of Brighton alone, more the style of living that would come with being married to me.”

  Could she bear to leave Brighton and all her friends behind if they had to marry? Would she really be miserable in London as his wife?

  Her head bobbed enthusiastically. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Peter is an amiable man. What else?”

  “I’d have to like the woman.”

  Her chin dipped and she raised a fingertip to her mouth. “Can you make someone like you even when they didn’t to begin with?”

  David regarded her warily. Abigail had always held a special place in his heart. He’d never had a sister and he’d watched her grow with a certain kind of pride. However, his feelings for her now were certainly not brotherly. Did she realize that? “It happens all the time, of course. Sometimes people pretend affection to obtain the alliance, but the problem with that is they never know the real you and often don’t enjoy the later discovery. Miss Watson, are you trying to pair your brother with a woman who does not care for him? You will do him no favors if you are.”

  “She could come to love him,” she declared boldly.

  Her sweet face held so much hope that he wanted to reassure her instantly. But he disliked giving anyone false hope. What she wanted might not be possible. “Miss Watson, you cannot force love and attraction. It simply is there, or it’s not.” After all, what had sprung up between them had caught him by surprise—proof that his own words held more than a grain of truth.

  A harsh knock sounded on the door and Abigail gasped. “Someone is here.”

  “Obviously,” David murmured. He stood, caught her hand and pulled her
from the sofa. “You need to hide. Quietly now, lets not make too much sound and see if your reputation can be salvaged.”

  She clutched his hand tightly. Her warm brown gaze rose to his and his breath caught. “But we haven’t finished talking,” she whispered.

  Her grip changed, and she stroked his thumb with hers. David stared at her, feeling altogether besieged by stirrings he shouldn’t acknowledge. “Miss Watson, are you here to ask my help to find Peter a wife, or were you hoping to secure a rich husband for yourself by any means—even compromise?”

  Abigail had the grace to blush. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  Yet she still didn’t release him.

  He tugged until their hands parted. “But here you are, unchaperoned, in a bachelor’s household with no apparent intentions of leaving. It appears very odd to say you are not looking to be wed when your actions suggest you are.”

  “I’ll hide. We can talk another time,” she murmured, and then hurried down the hall.

  Although he regretted what he had to do, David steered her toward the hall closet far away from the front door. Abigail wrinkled her nose, but then she looked up and quickly brushed her fingers through his hair. Her touch was soft and stirred him beyond words.

  “It’s still a bit messy from your long sleep,” she whispered.

  Her bare fingers brushed his ear, and then his jaw as she caressed him. The urge to kiss her rose again.

  David quickly shut the door in her face. What was he going to do with her? She couldn’t go five minutes without shocking the hell out of him and he was on the verge of doing something extremely wrong. He raked his fingers through his hair to finish her work as he approached the door.

  A quick glance through the peep hole showed Peter Watson standing on the top step. Of all the rotten luck. He couldn’t risk inviting Peter into the house in case Abigail revealed herself accidentally. The discussion about the debt would have to wait yet again. David glanced over his shoulder to make sure Abigail remained hidden before he opened his front door. “Mr. Watson, what a surprise.”

  Peter frowned, glancing past David’s shoulder. “Is this a bad time?”

  The worst in living memory. David set the tip of his boot behind the door just in case he was dealing with an angry brother who knew his sister was as good as ruined and planned to barge in and throttle him. “Actually, it is.”

  “Ah. Well. Here.” Watson thrust an envelope at him. “My sister suggested we invite you to dine tomorrow night.”

  David took the envelope, a small ripple of unease curling through him. He would now have the opportunity to speak privately with Peter, but Abigail’s dinner would be spoiled because of it. “That is very kind of her. Of you both. I’d be honored to attend.”

  Watson shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable with his errand. “Well, we will see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow.” David closed the door on Peter slowly, and waited ‘till he’d returned to his own house before rejoining Miss Watson down the hall. However, the closet was empty when he opened the door.

  When he checked the house, Abigail had vanished as if she’d never been there at all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Abigail threw herself over Imogen’s bed and covered her face with both hands. “I am in so much trouble.”

  Imogen, seated at her desk by the window, calmly packed away her papers before patting Abigail’s head. “I take it Mr. Hawke has delivered his bad news.”

  She lifted her head from the counterpane. “No, he hasn’t spoken to Peter. The wait may be killing me, but it is so much worse than that.” David’s bad news paled in comparison to her situation. She had made a terrible mistake and had no idea what to do to rectify the situation. Abigail rolled over and stared at the square white ceiling above her, wishing she could hide from the truth. She was a wicked, wanton woman who couldn’t control her riotous imagination. Visions of yesterday’s visit to David Hawke’s house wouldn’t leave her. Another blush heated her cheeks as she remembered the sight of him propped up in his wide bed, and the brief flashes of his bare skin made her breath catch even now.

  Imogen sat next to her. “Then you haven’t spoken to Peter about marriage to Miss Merton?”

  Abigail shook her head. “Not yet. I haven’t had an opportunity.”

  “Well I cannot say I’m disappointed,” her friend told her. “Your brother could do far better than to marry a woman who’d make him miserable with every word she uttered. I’ve never known anyone to be so disagreeable so often. Is there anything she does like?”

  “I do hope so.” Abigail fidgeted. Miss Merton’s exacting nature was a considerable hurdle to overcome. “Otherwise I don’t know what else I’ll do. It seems like the only choice now.”

  Imogen clasped her hand tightly. “Peter will find a way out, I’m sure. He always manages to land on his feet. But is that the only matter of concern? You seem more troubled than I’ve ever seen you.”

  Abigail drew in a deep breath. She had been bursting to tell Imogen about her encounters with David since the moment they had happened. But she’d never felt so confused before. Kissing David was both desirable and wrong. He’d made it very plain he wasn’t interested in sharing further kisses. “I kissed David Hawke the night he arrived in Brighton.”

  Imogen’s sharp intake of breath made her wince. “And you waited ‘till now to tell me?”

  Abigail covered her hot face with her hands. “Actually, the kiss was a few days ago and I was embarrassed. I am still embarrassed,” she mumbled. Not exactly true but close enough. The embarrassment stemmed mainly from her wish for further kisses and David’s reluctance to grant them.

  Imogen pulled Abigail’s hands away from her face so she couldn’t hide, her brow creased with concern. “Embarrassed? Why? Was it ghastly? Does he have foul breath?”

  “No, the exact opposite of ghastly.” Abigail closed her eyes, remembering the slight rasp of his evening whiskers against her lips. Yesterday morning he’d looked so handsomely disheveled, his jaw so dark with new growth that she’d had to touch, she couldn’t not think about him every moment since. She covered her eyes to block out the memory. But it was no use. He had managed to replace every foolish fantasy she’d ever entertained about men. “He kisses very well. However, I do not believe David would agree with me. He didn’t appear happy afterward.”

  “Well, the nerve of him.” Imogen grew an inch in height, full of righteous indignation. “I hope you can put the incident from your mind. There are many men with better manners.”

  If only words could expunge her wickedness. “Imogen, I’m afraid there is more,” Abigail said softly. Better to get the whole truth out before she lost her courage. Imogen would never tell and could be counted on to offer sound guidance.

  “Oh dear, have you made a fool of yourself over him?” Imogen hurried to the door, peeked out, and then closed it fully to give them privacy. When she returned, she gave Abigail’s hand a squeeze. “Did you expect him to propose because of a single kiss? I know for a fact that gentlemen place little importance on a girl’s first kiss. As long as no one sees, they never think of it again.”

  “Two kisses. But the lack of proposal is not what concerns me. I never thought he would look at me in that way. He’s much too grand.” She shook her head again. “However, I went to his house yesterday.” And she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of returning to see more of David Hawke since: his broad shoulders, his muscular arms, his utterly devastating smile when he laughed. He made her feel completely different than usual and she had no idea what to do about it or him.

  “Abigail,” Imogen cried out. “Are you all right? Did he impose on you?”

  “Of course I am all right,” Abigail groaned. “Why would you imagine I wouldn’t be? Mr. Hawke is a gentleman.”

  Far too much of a gentleman, in fact. He’d had ample opportunity to kiss her, touch her, and had not taken advantage of the situation. It had been decidedly lowering to be so unable to stir him
to the same passion he inflicted on her senses while she couldn’t seem to behave properly in his presence.

  “Not much of a gentleman to have kissed you and not proposed.” Imogen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now, because you are such an innocent in the ways of men, I want you to explain to me exactly what happened between you both. I’ll force his hand toward matrimony if he’s led you astray.”

  Panic rose in Abigail’s chest. “Don’t you dare do such a thing. He did nothing wrong. I was worried about him,” she said, her voice softening on the last. She squared her shoulders. “No one could recall seeing David since he went swimming on Sunday morning. By Monday morning I was concerned and went to call on his housekeeper. She said he was still abed and complained he’d not bothered to eat the meal she’d prepared the day before. The moment his breath drifted over my finger while he slept brought tears of relief to my eyes. I’ve never known someone to sleep so soundly. He didn’t stir except to breathe.”

  “But, Abigail, he can take care of himself and always has,” Imogen said sternly. “You should not have risked your reputation like that.”

  “That was exactly what he said, but I’d like to know who does worry for him,” she demanded. Poor David had no one else that she could see. “Certainly not his housekeeper. None of his friends, our brothers, called at his house this morning to inquire about his absence.”

  Imogen sighed again. “You were watching his house all day? Oh, of course you were. You were waiting for him to call on Peter to deliver the letter.”

  She nodded. Another half truth.

  “I know I must forget the kisses with David, and I will in time.” Heat swept Abigail’s cheeks. “But the waiting is killing me and I have had enough. I’ve arranged a dinner and invited David to attend tonight to speed along the process of bringing the matter of the debt into the open.”

  “Are you sure that is a wise thing to do? Peter may not appreciate your meddling in his affairs.”

  Abigail shrugged. “I love my brother, but I know his faults well. He will wait until the last moment and then everything will be in a panic. The best thing to do is discuss the matter as rational adults, explain the benefits of a prudent marriage, and hope he sees sense. Will you come?”