A Hero for Lady Abigail by Dallen, Maggie (top novels of all time txt) 📗

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.

Did she intend to meddle in his courtship with Charlotte again?

It didn’t matter. Because she’d done it again.

She’d managed to toss herself directly in his path.

6

If Abigail held her chin any higher her neck would surely ache in the morning. But if that was the price to pay for her pride, then so be it.

Yet another couple walked past her, casting her a quick sidelong look before diverting their gaze. As with every other couple who’d passed, this was followed by a hushed whisper, which trailed off into a smug laugh.

Abigail made sure the small, enigmatic smile she’d fixed on her face never faltered. Her cheek muscles were beginning to ache from holding the expression for…she glanced at a grandfather clock on the far side of the drawing room. Only an hour? Surely that couldn’t be right. It seemed as though an eternity had passed already, not a mere hour.

The first night’s welcoming soiree had already been well underway when Abigail joined. Her mother had thankfully opted to stay in their rooms. Although at this particular moment, Abigail actually found herself missing her mother’s presence. Her mother’s conversation likely would have been limited to criticisms and insults, but at least she would have had someone to talk to.

And besides, while the lords and ladies present seemed to have no problem snubbing Abigail, to snub a duchess was another matter entirely. They wouldn’t dare treat her mother this way. With each sweep of the crowded hallways and sitting rooms, the response to her presence had been the same. Stares, whispers, and then a quick look away before eye contact could be made.

Cowards.

Abigail leaned back slightly, hoping to rest for a moment against the doorframe behind her as she summoned the energy to head back into the nest of vipers.

At least Lily had had the good grace to glare at her outright when she’d spotted her earlier. Abigail would take outright hostility any day over the whispers and laughter that currently surrounded her. And besides, Lily at least had cause to be angry. The rest of these simpering fools could hardly say the same.

But Lily had always been stronger than the rest, there was a reason they’d been such close friends once upon a time.

Of course, Lily’s husband tore her away before she could say anything cutting. He’d squelched a scandal before it could begin. Dear old Merrick. Like Major Mayfield, Merrick was one of the good ones.

It was too bad she’d been forced to let him go.

And then there was Marigold, bless her heart. The poor mousy creature hadn’t had the nerve to snub her when she’d arrived. The most she’d been able to muster was a look of disapproval when Abigail greeted Major Mayfield with a bit more effusive charm than was absolutely necessary. The girl couldn’t even manage a proper smirk, even though she’d triumphed over Abigail by winning Lord Arundel.

But then, Marigold always had been far too kind for her own good. The major too. He’d accepted her warm greetings with that tolerant exasperation that she was starting to rather enjoy.

But truly, if Lily and Marigold could behave with good manners—or in Lily’s case, straightforwardness, at least—then was it too much to ask that the rest of the sniveling ton do the same?

Apparently so.

She lifted her chin higher and turned her gaze to the couples who were already heading toward the ballroom for dancing, as well as the gaggle of young eligible ladies who were clustered together in the center of the room, looking like a pretty bouquet in their pale silk and lace gowns.

They all glanced over in Abigail’s direction and Charlotte leaned forward to whisper. Whatever Charlotte had said, it made the other young ladies giggle loudly.

Abigail looked away with a sigh. Forget the bouquet. Those girls were more like a cluster of toxic weeds.

She’d been standing still too long, that was the problem. Abigail was starting to garner more unwanted attention than she could tolerate. She ought to keep walking, but roaming the party with her gaze focused ahead as though she were seeking out some mythical friends had grown tiresome. Not to mention, her feet were beginning to ache from making the endless loop.

Surely there was someone here who was more pathetic than she was. There had to be someone who wouldn’t walk away the moment she drew near.

As gracefully as she was able, she angled her head left and then right, looking for someone. Anyone.

Sir Geoffrey.

She inwardly winced. He was standing near the punch bowl doing much the same as Abigail. Eyeing the crowd, looking as though he were perfectly content to stand there in silence as the rest of the room carried on with their entertainment.

A flicker of something unpleasant had her straightening. It wasn’t guilt, exactly. Though Major Mayfield’s words from the previous day did come back to her and give her pause.

Yes, all right, fine. Perhaps it was a bit of shame that had her taking tentative steps in his direction.

Was she really going to do this? After all, the only thing more laughable than Abigail was Sir Geoffrey. But that thought had her taking another step, and then another. Was this...empathy she was feeling?

Hmm. How unpleasant. All she could think was, Is this how Sir Geoffrey spends every outing?

And if so, why on earth did he still insist on attending events where he was so clearly not wanted?

Abigail