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

was caught by a flash of a tall gentleman she couldn’t immediately place. Could it be...someone new? More importantly, there was no wife at his side. Was it possible that there was a new eligible gentleman in town for the season?

Abigail’s heart gave a little kick in her chest at the sight of a full head of dark brown hair and broad shoulders. He certainly was not one of the usual crowd of bachelors she’d come to know so well. He turned and his profile became visible. Not ancient, so there was that. His nose was straight, his jaw nice and square. His full lips curved up in a smile and her heart did that thing again. A fierce thud. Excitement, that’s what it was. Excitement and...hope.

Perhaps he could be a viable option. He at least was someone different, someone attractive and young and not of her mother’s choosing. He was someone...he was someone she recognised. She blinked in surprise as he turned slightly giving her a clear view of his face. Yes, she definitely recognized him—Major something or other. He was a close friend of the Marquess of Arundel and she recalled meeting him briefly at the marquess’s house party this past spring and then again when the marquess married that shy little mouse.

She narrowed her eyes as she tried to remember what she knew of him. No title. She wasn’t sure about wealth. Definitely not married.

Her mother’s eyes were on her; she could feel the weight of her stare. She kept her own gaze on the major as he drew closer, his attention fixed on someone past her. He had kind eyes and a handsome smile. For now, that was enough. That was more than enough.

“Him.” She used her fan to point him out to her mother. “For tonight I choose him.”

Her mother’s nose wrinkled. “Major Mayfield?”

Mayfield. That was it. Major Alexander Mayfield. “Yes. Him.”

“But he’s not even titled,” her mother complained. “His uncle is an earl, but as far as I know—”

“Father made no stipulations regarding title,” she reminded her mother, not without a smirk of her own. The fact that her mother didn’t approve just made the major that much more appealing. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

She didn’t wait for her mother’s permission before stepping away from her position by the wall and directly into Major Mayfield’s path. He stopped just shy of running her over, his eyes widening in surprise.

She supposed it wasn’t often that young ladies threw themselves in his way.

“Oh, er, pardon me,” he said. His smile and bow spoke of chivalry and kindness.

For the first time all evening that knot of anxiety was starting to fade. “Major Mayfield, isn’t it?”

He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him a chance to respond. The key with men like this—good men, nice men—was to take the reins straightaway. “Why, I would be delighted, Major.” Her voice was louder than was absolutely necessary but she was gratified to feel the partygoers around them turn to stare.

The major’s brows arched in question. “Pardon me?”

Abigail smiled. “I would be delighted to have this next dance.”

He blinked in shock. Poor fellow. He likely never had a lady take such an interest. But her mother was watching, and so was that crowd of egotistical peacocks who thought they were her only option.

The music started to swell and Abigail extended her hand with a coy smile. “Shall we?”

He took her hand in his and for a moment her composure slipped. Even through her glove she felt his warmth, and this close his height made her feel small. Almost delicate. For one brief moment she had the most ludicrous urge to lean against him, to let him take some of the weight from her shoulders and rest her head against his shoulder. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and tilted her head back to meet his gaze head-on, her brows arching with a silent prompt.

He leaned down slightly and lowered his voice. “What are you doing?”

A laugh bubbled up inside her at his confusion. He was adorable, he truly was. “Why I’m saving you, of course.”

“Saving me?”

She fluttered her fan and smiled up at him through her lashes in a way that never failed to make a man melt. “I’m saving you from a dull and tedious evening.”

2

Alex stared at the woman before him trying to decide if she was daft or just misguided. Or both. Did she think he was someone else?

He shook his head. She’d used his name, so clearly she hadn’t muffed his identity. Yet she was going on about them dancing as though they were having a conversation that clearly wasn’t actually happening.

Odd didn’t begin to explain it. How on earth was he supposed to respond?

He recognized her, of course. Lady Abigail. They’d been introduced in the past but hadn’t so much as exchanged pleasantries about the weather, so far as he could recall. And he would have recalled. Lady Abigail was not the sort of woman one could forget. Standing this close to her, he was stunned by the force of her beauty. If he were being honest, she was almost painful to look at, she was so stunning. The sort of stunning that made even the strongest man cast his eyes to the ground.

Except for right now. Because right now, he could not seem to stop staring.

She had the thick, luxurious hair that seemed barely restrained by pins, its brown color highlighted by shades of blonde and red. Chestnut, he’d heard it described once. How would it look in the sun? In the shade? By candlelight it sparkled with color?

No, sparkle was the wrong word for her hair, that word suited her blue eyes. The same color as a lake on a sunny day. Not unlike one he’d spent time staring at in France just days before he’d been sent home.

The sun had glinted off its surface, catching the water as it moved, lapping the shore. He’d lain there, staring at the crystal blue water,