by Dawn Brower
He glowered at her with displeasure. “I never would have equated you with a whore Lady Abigail. I’m offended you did.”
She shrugged. “I find I dinna particularly care if ye are offended.” Abigail had to escape his scrutiny. She’d purposely changed the topic of their conversation so that he’d stop trying to charm her. If she allowed herself she’d willingly follow him down a path of wickedness. He tempted her far more than she wanted to admit. “It is I who should be offended by yer disregard for my status as a lady of good standing. Perhaps ye should consider that before ye approach another lady in society with yer offer of a wager.”
He smiled at that. Abigail wanted to smack it off his face. What had she said to garner that reaction? “I think I’m starting to understand you. It wasn’t that I offered the wager, it was that you wanted to take it.”
Damn him. “Ye be wrong of course. If ye will excuse me I’m going tae retrieve my sister from yer friend’s attention. If he keeps company with ye he is probably equally as bad.” With those words she stomped away but his chuckles echoed behind her, infuriating her with each step she took.
Chapter 5
The ride in Hyde Park had been invigorating, but it was Charles’s conversation with Lady Abigail that had left him exhilarated. He’d never expected to be so intrigued by a young lady. This particular one held his attention long after they parted ways. Charles couldn’t wait to cross paths with her again. In fact, perhaps he should find a way to ascertain her schedule and manufacture a meeting with her. Yes, he liked that idea. He smiled at the thought of sharing barbs with her again. Lady Abigail had a sharp tongue. It was a good thing he had a tough hide or she’d have left him bloody from her dressing down. He’d send one of his servants around for more information on her schedule and hire a Bow Street runner to look into the lady’s particulars.
He strolled into his study, George fast on his heels, and sat down behind his desk. Not long after that Shelby stumbled in and dropped on the settee on the far side of the room. He groaned and covered his eyes with his arm. “Why is it so bloody bright in here.”
Charles lifted a brow and turned to glance at George. His friend shook his head indicating that he’d handle it. Well that was all right with him because Charles would have smacked Shelby in the head. The man wouldn’t have appreciated it either. He had to be feeling rather wretched after his night of over indulgence.
“How are you feeling Lord Shelby?” George asked him. He kept his voice calm and soothing. Charles had witnessed him using that tone on a spooked horse once. It seemed fitting that he did so with Shelby as well. Shelby did appear a bit skittish.
“I’m all right,” Shelby replied wariness etched through his voice. “Why am I here again?” He scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned. He held the palm of his hand to the top of his head. “All right, I lied, I feel bloody awful. My head is exploding.”
Coventry held back a smile. It wouldn’t further their cause and George was insistent that Shelby could be helped. He’d allow his friend to at least try. He’d done a lot for many individuals since they opened their club’s doors. Shelby might end up being a wonderful addition. “We wanted to discuss your future with you.” Charles tapped his fingers on his desk almost impatiently. He was having difficulty keeping himself relaxed. Dealing with Shelby wasn’t what he wanted to do. No, he’d much rather seek Lady Abigail out and spar with her instead. “Now that you’re coherent enough to have a conversation we shall proceed.” He nodded at George. “Why don’t you start.”
“Lord Shelby,” he began. “First I want to tell you that we’re incredibly sorry about your loss.”
“Are you?” Shelby replied bitterly. “Not as sorry as I am.”
George chose to ignore that and instead continued with his well-practiced speech. He cleared his throat and said, “We have a club that we believe you’ll fit in. You didn’t meet some of the requirements before, but considering your widower status we thought you would benefit from our association.”
Shelby lifted a brow. “You want me to join a club? Like we’re boys at Eton looking for something to hide in.”
Charles chuckled. He had to admit that if he were in Shelby’s place he’d be equally sardonic. “Not quite like that,” he said. “More a den of iniquity with a loyalty thrown in. You, my friend, are in need of some camaraderie and the side benefits of what our particular club has to offer.” He lifted a brow. “Be honest with yourself. What do you have to lose? If you keep at the pace you’re on you’ll be in a grave by the end of the year. It may have failed to cross your mind, but you have two small children who need you. At least do your best to go through the motions of life, and maybe over time it’ll seem almost normal to you.”
Shelby groaned and pushed his head into his open palms. George glanced at Charles and shook his head. They had to allow Shelby to come to his own conclusions. Once he decided to join the club, and he would join, they’d tell him the rules and bestow a key on him. George would also offer one of the upstairs bedrooms for him to let. They were usually reserved for confirmed bachelors who needed someplace to live, but they both believed Shelby might need to stay at the club more often than not over the next several months. He needed real interactions to help him settle into his life without his beloved wife.
“All right,” Shelby finally said. His voice was hoarse and shook with emotion. It was also probably a bit raw from all the brandy he’d imbibed. “You’re both correct. I’ve been a right arse since my wife died. I’m faltering and I don’t know how to live without her.”
Charles pictured Lady Abigail at his words. It stunned him a little that she would come to mind in this situation. What was it about her that he couldn’t stop thinking of her? He didn’t equate his situation with Shelby’s, not entirely. Charles was fast becoming preoccupied with Lady Abigail, but he didn’t love her. He didn’t know what love entailed and he never wanted to. If he fell in love and lost that person… He shook the thought away. No, he would ensure he didn’t experience what Shelby now was. “All you can do is get up each morning and go through the motions. One day you’ll wake up and realized you only thought about her five times, then three, then none.” He hated that Shelby was in so much pain. “It’ll be the day you forget about her entirely that will be the worst. You’ll hate yourself for it, but that’s the way of life. We don’t ever really forget those we’ve lost. It’s more we find a way to hide the pain so we can continue without them. When that day comes you’ll be even more grateful to have a group of individuals you can rely on.”
Shelby took a deep breath and nodded. “I want to become a member of your club.” His face had lost all color and his deep blue eyes watered a little, as he seemed to fight tears.
George smiled and then said, “Wonderful. Now that it is decided let me go over the rules with you.” At least someone seemed happy with the outcome. Not that Charles was displeased, but he didn’t have his friend’s enthusiasm either.
While George informed Shelby of all the details, Charles decided to take care of his inquiries into Lady Abigail. Now that he decided to pursue her in a sense, he wasn’t going to wait. He reassured himself that he wasn’t courting her; no this was something entirely different. Charles just wanted to spend time in her company. To learn what she liked and enjoy a bit of titillating conversation… and maybe, just maybe, if he kept telling himself that he’d start to believe it. Charles feared that crossing paths with Lady Abigail was fate’s way of thumbing its nose at him. The man who refused to be enthralled by a woman was quickly becoming a fool for an innocent hellion.
***
Abigail couldn’t believe the gall of Lord Coventry. What he had said to her… It was rude and suggestive, and she’d liked it. How perverse was she to have enjoyed that rogue’s words? What was wrong with her? She actually hoped they would meet each other again. She’d never felt so stimulated in both body and mind before. He had this affect on her… She couldn’t explain it if she tried, and if she were to be ho
nest with herself; she didn’t want to define it. Abigail only knew one thing with a certainty: Lord Coventry made her want things she swore she didn’t.
“Why are ye being so quiet?” Belinda asked. “Ye have been inside yer head since we left Hyde Park earlier.”
She scrunched her nose up and turned her head to meet her sister’s gaze. They’d been lounging in the sitting room awaiting their afternoon tea. Abigail had retrieved her book on Greek mythology, but hadn’t opened it. She’d been too engrossed in her thoughts about Lord Coventry to try. He was even interrupting her scholarly pursuits. “I’m considering how to approach my studies.” A blatant lie and Belinda would not take it as an appropriate answer to Abigail’s silence.
“I doubt the veracity of yer claim, sister dear,” Belinda replied in a singsong tone. “Ye are thinking of the Earl of Coventry. Ye can’t fool me.” She leaned forward and placed her elbow on the arm of her chair, then rested her chin on the palm of her hand. She winked and then said, “I dae believe ye have a beau.”
“I dinna have one,” she replied vehemently. Lord Coventry may have appeared to single her out, but he hadn’t. A rogue didn’t pay singular attention to a maiden or he’d be taken seriously in his attentions. All the ladies in town knew he wasn’t truly looking for a female to court. They all batted their eyelashes and flirted, but they didn’t expect anything from it. The earl was too much of a scoundrel to settle down, and too much of a gentleman not to make his intentions known. He skated a fine line between both. She’d been intrigued by him at the Loxton ball, and once she ascertained his identity it had been easy enough to gain some information about him. Both the males and females alike revered him, but they’d all been clear—Lord Coventry was not the marrying kind.
“I dae believe ye doth protest tae much,” Belinda answered. “I’m right and ye are well aware of it. He’ll come calling and then I will have ye eating crow.”
Abigail feared her sister was correct in her assessment of the situation. She wasn’t ready to admit to anything aloud though. When or if anything of note happened between her and Lord Coventry she’d consider it then. This was all too new to make any lasting decisions yet. Nothing may come of it and she didn’t want to hope anything would either. “Think what ye will,” she told her sister. “I can’t control that, but trust me on one thing, Lord Coventry is not going to be calling on me here.” No, he’d be much sneakier in his version of a courtship. She could use other words to describe what he was doing, but she recognized it for what it was—even if he didn’t quite yet.
Her sister had a self-satisfied smile on her face. She was being way too smug for Abigail’s liking. “And ye thought ye would be able to return home. Father will be pleased.”
“There’s nothing for him tae consider. Dinna say a word tae him.” She didn’t want her father to have any expectations where Lord Coventry was concerned. He did have hopes that both Abigail and Belinda would marry well. She’d not have him anticipate a wedding and then not have one occur. “Lord Coventry is not courting me.”
“I’ll not mention it tae father the next time I write—yet.” Belinda lifted both of her eyebrows a couple of times in a suggestive manner. Abigail held in a groan. She didn’t want to encourage her sister. “But once he starts courting ye for all the ton tae see I’ll not be able tae contain the news.”
No, she wouldn’t. If Lord Coventry really did court her, and Abigail still wasn’t sure how she felt about the prospect of it, anyone who was acquainted with her would inform her father with glee. It might even be enough to bring him to London. “If that should occur I’ll deal with it then. For now there is no news tae report.”
A maid came into the room pushing the teacart. There were several different cakes on the tray along with the tea service. Abigail’s stomach growled on cue. She was hungry and wanted to devour all of the little cakes. It would also silence her sister for a spell while she filled her mouth with the delectable treats. Maybe she should finish her tea and rush from the room before Belinda regained her equilibrium. She didn’t want to discuss Lord Coventry any further. Truthfully, she wanted more time alone to be introspective of her own emotions. She could take her book on Greek mythology to her room and pretend to study. There was no way she’d actually be able to absorb anything intelligent in her brain as preoccupied as she was with Lord Coventry. Yes, that was a good plan.
“Are ye going tae eat any of the cakes?” Belinda eyed the tiny treats voraciously.
Abigail retrieved her teacup and took a slow sip ignoring her sister’s question. Perhaps that was somewhat evil of her, but Belinda had been way too gleeful about Lord Coventry. This small retribution would help alleviate that sting. After several sips she answered her, “I’m not hungry. Eat as many as ye want.” She set her teacup down and then stood. “I’m going tae retire tae my chambers with my book. I’ll see ye at the evening meal.” Then she slowly strolled out of the room as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She really wanted to rush up to her room so she’d be in solitude, but she refused to let her sister know she was rattled in any way. Damn Lord Coventry for destroying her carefully laid plans. Whatever was she going to do with that man?
Chapter 6
It had taken him less than a sennight to gather information regarding Lady Abigail. Her accent had told him she derived from Scotland, but not much else. Her father was the Earl of Hayfield, a Scottish lowlander with strong English ties. Other than her family connections, Charles had been unable to garner many details about her. A shrewd housemaid had been able to obtain Lady Abigail’s schedule for the next fortnight though, and he fully intended to utilize it. He’d made sure to reward her underhandedness for two reasons: to keep her loyal and also quiet.
He glanced down at the stolen details and frowned. Why was he going through so much trouble? What was it about Lady Abigail that made him act in ways he’d never done prior to meeting her? If George were aware of his scheming he’d call him a besotted fool. How could he be though? He had only a few brief encounters with Lady Abigail. Once in the Loxton library, once in Hyde Park, and finally he’d crossed her path the other night at the theater. He hadn’t known she’d be in any of those places, but now, he could arrange to be wherever she went. At least the social events… He had invitations to all of them. The matron’s of the ton sent him an invite to everything hoping to lure him to their events. He almost never went, and even when he did, he had a specific purpose for attending. Once he achieved his goal he promptly left and didn’t bother with much socializing while there. He didn’t understand why any of them bothered inviting him to their events, but he also didn’t discourage it either.
Her next event was a garden party at the Duchess of Breckenridge’s home on the outskirts of London. It had been a while since he’d ventured out of the city. It might be good to breathe something resembling fresh air. He was curious enough about Lady Abigail to attend a bloody garden party. Charles never would have believed it of himself if he weren’t already in the midst of it.
“What has you scowling?”
Charles glanced up from the list and met George’s gaze. He pushed it under his stack of invitations and answered him, “Nothing much. Debating attending a social event.”
“Oh?” George lifted a brow. “Is there a prospective recruit for the club?”
The question was a reasonable one. There hadn’t been any other reason for Charles to attend a social event. The problem was he didn’t quite know how to answer his friend. “No,” he replied, and then frowned. “I am feeling a little restless and thought it might help to attend something other than a club soiree.”
“I see…” His friend cleared his throat and that said more than his words did. Charles hadn’t given him an answer he believed, and he honestly didn’t blame George for doubting him.
“How is Shelby?” he attempted to change their topic of conversation. The Earl of Shelby was a save subject for them to discuss. “Has he settled into his room at the club?”
“He’s doing much better.” George walked the rest of the way into the room and sat in a nearby chair. “His drinking has abated and he’s sober more often than not these days. I think he’ll be all right.”
Charles had his doubts, but he was glad that Shelby had stopped with his excessive drinking of brandy. He would have hated to see Shelby throw his life away. “Wonderful. Hopefully he doesn’t fall back into bad habits.”
“I don’t believe he will.” George gestured toward his desk. “What were you looking at when I came in?”
He’d hoped George hadn’t been paying that close attention to what he’d been doing when he arrived. He should have known better. George was perceptive. “Just my list of invitations.” He shrugged. “I have a huge stack of them to go through as usual.”
“What one were you considering attending?” He motioned to the stack again. “Let me see.”
Luckily the garden party invitation was at the top of the stack. Charles retrieved it and held it out for George. He plucked it from his fingertips and held it out to read. “The Duchess of Breckenridge’s event?” He tilted his head to the side. “There is bound to be a lot of eager young debutantes there. Are you sure you wish to go to it? They’ll flock to your sides like ducks after pieces of bread.”
That was the conundrum. If he wanted to see Lady Abigail without actually courting her he’d have to go to social events she attended. Something about her made him stop and take notice. He hated it. “You’re probably right.” He shrugged lightly. “But that won’t be any different than any other event I’ve attended. I think I’ve trained them what to expect of me don’t you?”
