Chapter 12

“Really, my dear it wasn’t that bad.”

Abigail grimaced at the dowager who looked serenely back, though the tightness around her lips gave her away.

“Not that bad?” Abigail exclaimed. “It was awful. I was awful.”

“Lady Hester has been wearing those unfashionable gowns for years, Abigail, with those hideous hoops. You might very well have helped her in the long run.”

Abby raised a brow in the dowager’s direction. It was terribly sweet of the older lady to try to make her feel better, but even in America where the rules weren’t as stringent or numerous as here, Abigail’s actions would have caused a scandal.

“Helped her by throwing her dog across the room?”

“Accidentally throwing him across the room,” the dowager corrected. “It was he who loosened his teeth on your skirts. Odious little creature.”

“Helped her by knocking her backwards off her chair?” Abigail asked.

“It’s not your fault Hester’s chairs can’t withstand sudden movement,” the dowager replied stoutly. “And you stumbled into her. That wasn’t on purpose.”

“And—and showing her, her undergarments to the vicar?” Abby repeated, her cheeks scalding with remembered embarrassment.

“Er, yes. Well. That was rather unfortunate. But you weren’t to know the vicar would arrive at that moment and, as I said, if she wasn’t wearing such out of mode clothes in the first place, it wouldn’t have happened. Those hooped skirts were the work of the devil.”

“I think I’m finding all of this a little harder than I should,” Abigail mumbled miserably. “And when we get to London and all those parties and gatherings. All those people, I’m just afraid I’ll embarrass myself. That I’ll embarrass you.”

Unbidden, an image of Robert popped into her head.

Oh, Lord. She could only imagine what he would think of her less-than-graceful display in Lady Hester’s drawing room.

Abigail had truly hoped that somehow her mother’s natural grace and comportment would rub off on her eldest daughter.

Clearly, it hadn’t.

And if she couldn’t survive an afternoon of calls, how on earth would she survive a Season in London? A Season she didn’t particularly want anymore.

Who could ever have imagined there were so many ways for a fifteen-minute visit to go so drastically wrong?

“My dear,” the dowager interrupted Abigail’s depressing musings, “This was one unfortunate call. That’s all. We’ll just—we’ll just put it from our heads and forget it ever happened.”

The dowager paused.

“And keep you away from dogs,” she continued. “Just in case.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t a disaster?” she asked Lady Montvale, desperate for reassurance.

“I’m sure,” the dowager smiled, her tone mollifying.

It seemed sincere enough, and Abigail was able to breathe slightly easier.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad, after all.

“It was disastrous. Just disastrous, Robert. We simply don’t have a choice.”

Absolutely not.”

“Darling, please be reasonable. This would be a wonderful opportunity for Miss Langton before we remove to Town.”

Robert muttered a string of expletives that did nothing to lift his dark mood.

The last thing he wanted to think about was Abigail in Town with swains falling all over her, tempting her with their flowery words and ability to interact like a human being, and not a monster.

Since their kiss last night, Robert felt something had shifted inside him and for the first time in his life, he had no idea how to act around another person.

Usually, he found being rude and abrasive was enough to keep them at a distance, but more and more he found that he didn’t want to keep Abigail at a distance. And he’d rather walk over hot coals than hurt her by being rude.

What the hell was happening to him?

“Mother.” He spoke now with deliberate patience. “I have absolutely no intentions of hosting a party. You will have to find some other way to train Miss Langton to catch a husband.”

“Catch a husband,” his mother scoffed. “I’ll be lucky to keep her name from the scandal sheets at this rate. The poor thing. It really wasn’t her fault. But—well, practice can only do her good in this matter. I confess, during our hours together, I never felt the need to teach Miss Langton how not to fling animals at marchionesses, and tip people upside down.”

Robert fought valiantly against the laughter threatening to explode from him.

He could imagine all too well the scenario his mother had described to him, her face lined with worry, her voice filled with remembered horror.

He had been pleased to hear that she’d reassured Abby on the way back to the Hall. He knew that the blonde beauty would be recriminating herself for her missteps.

Lady Hester was an old dragon and the worst sort of snob. She wouldn’t have cared for Abby even if she’d behaved like one of the patronesses of Almack’s. Abby was American, and that would have sealed her fate before she even entered the stuffy halls of Lady Hester’s home.

“And I really do feel it is in Abigail’s best interests to meet all of the people Lady Hester will have gotten to. Do some damage control. After all, a little scandal is fine. Welcomed even. It will get her talked about and sought after. But any true blemish on her reputation will be impossible to undo.”

Robert’s good humour vanished as quickly as it had come. His mother, he presumed, was talking about Abby having an unblemished reputation with which to catch a man to marry. And that was something he really didn’t want to be a part of.

“All the more reason for me not to host a party. It will be bad enough having people come here to gawk at me. But if they get a whiff of scandal about Miss Langton, they’ll come in their droves. And I don’t want that at my house.”

The dowager, however, wouldn’t be silenced on the matter.

Robert let her drone on, not really paying attention. He wondered if perhaps he should tell her that he’d been kissing her young protégée senseless at every possible opportunity.

Probably not.

But he was tempted to, if only to assure her that Abigail didn’t need practice to be a success in Town.

All she would have to do is walk into a room and the ton were sure to be putty in her hands. And any man who was lucky enough to hold her in his arms would propose on the spot.

That was if Robert didn’t tear the bastard apart limb from limb.

“Robert, are you even listening?”

No, he wasn’t. He was working himself into a jealous temper because of an imaginary man putting his hands on Abigail.

It was official. He was only fit for Bedlam.

“We’re leaving in two weeks, Mother. What use is it having a party now?”

His mother looked a little flustered, something Robert had never seen in his life, and it threw him slightly. What was she about?

“I just—I would like to give Miss Langton the opportunity to meet some acquaintances that we’re sure to come across in Town and polish her social graces. It’s very daunting, you know, knowing nobody. Surely you see the merit in easing the girl’s way?”

It seemed as shoddy a reason as he’d ever heard, but Robert knew better than to try and understand the female psyche. Besides, his mother had said it would make things easier for Abigail. And damn him for his foolishness, but he found himself wanting to make life easier for her in any way he could.

It seemed to him as though his mother’s smile of triumph was tinged with something else he couldn’t quite put into words. She looked very much as though a plan was coming together.

But he didn’t have time to worry about such things now.

He’d told James and Abigail that he’d join them on an afternoon ride and fool that he was, he wanted to spend time with her before they went to London and the hoards descended.

“I think I really must live near the sea.” Abigail smiled happily at her companions as their mounts crested a hill and the formidable Montvale Hall came into view.

To think that only a short time ago she had found the house frightening and intimidating. Now the idea of leaving it forever was anathema to her.

Not unlike its owner.

But she couldn’t allow herself to think such things, or she was liable to do something foolish, like cry or announce to Robert that she was madly in love with him, that she had no interest in London, and would much rather stay here forever with him.

“You’ll have to take care to marry someone with a seat near the sea, then,” James said.

Was it her imagination or did the silence following this statement seem strained?

Abigail risked a glance at the duke, but he was as stoic and impassive as ever.

“Perhaps I won’t marry anyone,” she quipped to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere. “Perhaps I’ll become a spinster and come live with you at Avondale, forcing you to do your familial duty, and cramping your bachelor lifestyle.”

James made a theatrical face of mock horror, eliciting a laugh from her.

Montvale remained silent.

“The dowager wouldn’t hear of it,” James responded. “She’s determined to marry you off. It’s your fault we’re having this silly party next week. If you hadn’t tried to kill Lady Hester and her dog last week, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Abigail couldn’t contain her groan.

She would be eternally grateful to the dowager for taking her under her wing as she had and helping her so much. In point of fact, the dowager had shown more maternal interest in Abigail than her own mother ever had. But the thought of what this party must be doing to Robert made her feel awful. She knew how he would despise such things.

“You aren’t looking forward to the party?” Robert finally spoke, and Abby’s eyes flew to his.

It was another cloudless, early spring day and in the sunlight, his eyes looked almost silver. But even as she watched, they changed to a wintry grey, darkened by some emotion she couldn’t identify.

“I’m very grateful to your mother, and to you, for arranging it, and I’m acutely aware of the inconvenience of hosting at such short notice,” she said carefully, not wanting to insult him. And then, because that mischievous streak of hers never seemed to go away, she continued on, “And of course, I am already such an inconvenience to you.”

Her cheeky statement was met with a bark of laughter from James, and miracle of miracles, Robert’s face lit with one of his elusive, earth-shattering smiles.

“You’re an absolute hoyden, Miss Langton. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Oh, frequently.” She grinned, unrepentant.

And to her shock and pleasure, she earned herself an actual laugh.

It sounded hoarse, no doubt from lack of use. And both Robert and James looked as startled by it as she felt.

How far they’d come, that he would smile and even laugh with her.

He was changing by the day.

It almost felt as though he were coming back to life.

And not just him. The Hall itself seemed to be coming alive, too. It was awakening like a spring dawn after a particularly bleak winter.

The servants were happier, the mood was lighter. Robert had even stopped complaining about the vases of wildflowers that Abigail now filled with abandon.

Foolishly, she couldn’t help imaging what it would be like to live here with Robert, filling his house with flowers and his life with smiles.

Nothing could be better.

“Shall we return to the Hall, then?” James asked, mercifully oblivious to the wistful imaginings of his cousin. “I’m quite sure the dowager has all manner of tasks for the three of us.”

All three of them sighed, each for his or her own reason.

“I suppose we must,” Abby replied with a slight grimace. She simply hated being the one to cause any sort of discomfort to Robert.

“Well, you certainly must,” James laughed. “As I said, it’s your fault.”

“I am aware of that, James,” Abby scowled. “All this effort. I’m quite sure I’m not worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Robert’s softly spoken words reached her and caused her heart to thud painfully.

She glanced up and locked eyes with his molten silver.

She forgot that James was present. Forgot everything in the face of his scrutiny.

What she wouldn’t give to lean over and press her lips against his own.

In fact, without conscious thought, she felt her body move to do just that.

The sudden sound of James’s coughing brought reality crashing back, and she blinked to break Robert’s sinful spell.

Glancing at her cousin, who was now watching them both shrewdly, Abigail felt her cheeks heat.

“If you’ll excuse me, I really must find the dowager.”

Knowing how odd her behaviour was, and how senseless she must currently seem, Abigail kicked Lancelot into a canter and rode away from James’s speculation and Robert’s irresistibility.

The silence that Abigail left in her wake was deafening.

Robert resisted the urge to pull at his cravat. Or to run off after her.

He could have kicked himself for his stupidity.

No way would James let Robert get away with such a statement. And nor should he.

There would be questions, of that Robert was sure. But how to answer them?

James felt as protective of Abby as a big brother would. And he’d brought her here so the duchess could help her. Not, Robert assumed, for him to paw at her and say such intimate things.

Steeling himself for what would no doubt be an inquisition of epic proportions, Robert turned to face James.

But instead of looking furious, his oldest friend mere gazed placidly back at him.

And that made Robert feel decidedly wrong-footed, which he really didn’t like.

“James, I—”

“Let’s get back then,” James said jovially. “Lest your mother send out a search party.”

“That’s it?” Robert blurted. “That’s all you have to say?”

James studied him silently for what felt like eons.

Finally, he smiled an enigmatic smile that caused Robert to feel even more nervous.

“For now,” James said with a grin before turning his mount and heading in the direction Abby just took.

Robert watched in shock as his friend rode away after the woman who had turned his world upside down.

Why wasn’t James more upset?

If he knew even half of what Robert thought when Abby was around, or how many times he’d kissed her, Robert would have more than one bullet in him, he was certain.