A Hero for Lady Abigail

by Dallen, Maggie

  He gave a little snort of amusement that made her heart kick in her chest. It made her itch to make him laugh outright again, to make him smile in such a way that his eyes gleamed with amusement. “I promised Miss Ainsworth and her mother that I would escort them for a walk around the grounds.”

  “Ah.” And just like that, that warm and light sensation she’d been reveling in from the moment she’d bumped into the major fled, and she was left feeling...flat. Deflated. Her smile never wavered but it suddenly felt far less genuine. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re making such progress so quickly. I should have known you’d be a quick study.” She forced a laugh. “I suppose you won’t be needing my help much longer.”

  “Lady Abigail…” He stopped, his brows drawn together as if in concern.

  Drat. The last thing she’d wanted was his pity.

  She made her smile brighter. “Go on,” she said, making a little shooing motion toward the room where the guests gathered. “You wouldn’t want to keep Miss Ainsworth waiting.”

  He opened his mouth and shut it promptly, a wan smile curving his lips. “Perhaps I shall see you later today or—”

  “I’m sure we shall meet again before the weekend is over,” she said, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. All high and tight like it might shatter. She glanced upward toward the landing. “Let’s try not to run into one another again, though, hmm?”

  He smiled at her pathetic attempt at a joke.

  “Well, I should be off,” she said, backing away in the opposite direction of the voices. She was not running away. Of course not. Lady Abigail never ran from anyone.

  She felt him watching her until she turned a corner, heading down a back hallway leading to a side entrance where she wouldn’t run into anyone. Only when she’d walked outside into the crisp spring air did she stop to take a deep breath.

  Her heart was pounding in her chest as she headed toward the stables. Stupid, Abigail. So very stupid.

  When had she lost track of her goal? The clock was ticking and she had mere months to find, lure, and hook a husband. And what had she done? She’d allowed herself to be distracted. She’d taken her eye off the prize and let her silly emotions roam wild. How very foolish, Abigail.

  What was she doing fretting over the major and his prospects when it was her own she ought to be worried about? Of all the times to decide to be charitable and concern herself with someone else’s future. She gave her head a shake, frustration a far sight more bearable than whatever it was she’d been feeling a moment ago when she’d walked away.

  Frustration could be overcome. She’d redirect her focus, that was all. She’d go back to the drawing board and reassess her options. She’d list the pros and the cons for the eligible gentlemen and then she’d choose her next mark.

  It was as simple as that.

  By the time she entered the stables, her head was once more clear, even if her heart was pounding a bit too fast. She was very nearly at peace...until she heard it.

  “I assure you, there’s no need for an escort,” Lily was saying.

  Abigail would recognize her former friend’s voice anywhere.

  “My husband makes it out like I’m some sort of delicate flower, but I promise you, I’m not so weak as all that.”

  Abigail nearly laughed aloud at the understatement. Lily’s back was still to her as she spoke to the poor footman who was no doubt torn between Lord Merrick ’s overprotective orders to watch his wife and his wife’s stubborn commands that she did not need their help.

  “If you’re sure, Lady Merrick,” the poor man murmured.

  “I am certain.” Lily’s voice was filled with triumph. She’d won and everyone knew it.

  Abigail hovered near the stable entrance, torn between fleeing a potentially unpleasant encounter and laughing because her old friend hadn’t changed one bit, even now that she was a proper married lady.

  Before Abigail had a chance to do either, Lily turned and spotted her. Her triumphant smiled faded into a scowl so quickly it made Abigail’s head spin.

  Lily always had been emotional like that. The redhead was quick to passionate anger, even quicker to raucous laughter, and could flip between the two faster than most people could form a smile.

  She waited for Lily to speak first. Years had gone by since their falling out, but as Lily was not one to let time heal all wounds, Abigail doubted she was hated any less today than she had been during their first season. Even winning the man of her dreams wouldn’t make Lily forgive and forget.

  So she waited. But Lily narrowed her eyes in one telling glare of disdain before turning her back to Abigail as if she did not exist.

  Abigail swallowed hard, her expression never changing as she followed Lily’s lead and spoke to the footman who’d chased after her.

  “Lady Abigail, your mother asked that I—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” she said, her voice colder and harsher than she’d intended. She tried to soften it with a small smile but she saw the way Lily froze for an instant and heard her loud sigh of disgust.

  “I’m sorry, my lady but I must insist.”

  Abigail tilted her chin up higher as a stableboy led her toward one of the mares designated for guests to ride during their stay. She ran a hand over the horse’s neck, letting the feel and sound of the animal calm her racing heart as she waited for Lily to leave. She ignored the footmen, sure if he followed, she’d quickly lose him on the trail. Unlike Lily, Abigail would not escape the footmen’s attempt to chaperone. There were definite advantages to married life.

  Lily finally mounted as Abigail watched from the corner of her eyes. Her chest was too tight, her features frozen in a cold, hard mask until at last her former friend nudged her horse into a canter out of the stables.

  Only when she was gone could Abigail breathe. Resting her head lightly against the mare’s, she allowed herself a moment of solace as the horse huffed in her ear. When she and her horse were out on the meadow, heading toward a line of trees that edged the property’s wooded land, she let out a long sigh of relief as she kicked her horse faster. In minutes, she’d left the unhappy footman behind and hopefully that was the one and only time she’d have to face her old friend this weekend.

  It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, to be honest. They’d exchanged far more brutal barbs when they’d encountered one another in the past. Perhaps finally admitting she loved Merrick, and having his love in return, had softened Lily.

  She let out a sharp laugh at the thought of a softened Lily and sent the birds in the branches above her scattering at the sound.

  No, she could not imagine a softer Lily. But she was happier, that much was clear, and that was all for the best. Lily deserved happiness.

  Heaven knew Abigail did not.

  The thought was sobering and she fell into a thoughtful silence as her horse plodded along a path through the woods, knowing far better than she where the trail was heading. The rocking motion of the horse beneath her helped her heart to settle and her mind had a chance to replay that horrid encounter with the perspective of hindsight.

  Perhaps she ought to have broken the silence in the stables. She winced at the thought. And said what? She had no idea. I’m sorry? She scoffed. Too little too late. Lily would only have laughed in her face.

  She could practically hear her mother’s voice reminding her that a duke’s daughter apologized to no one. Certainly not a no one like Lily.

  Lady Merrick might have won herself a title, her mother would say. But she’s still not your equal.

  Not your equal. That had been her mother’s favorite refrain during that first season. It seemed no one was Abigail’s equal, in her mother’s opinion. No lady, at least. But that was before Abigail had failed to snare the heir to a marquisate. Now her mother’s lectures were more focused on how Abigail ought not be so fastidious in her choice of husband. How she could not afford to be so choosy. For all her talk of Abigail’s good breeding, it seemed her mother had little regard
for her daughter’s worth.

  So no, her mother would not have condoned an apology, even if an apology was in order. Abigail sighed as one question overrode all others. What would Major Mayfield have done in her place?

  The thought made her still and the horse faltered slightly as if it could sense the shift in her. The answer was obvious. He would have done what was right. He would have apologized because it was the right thing to do.

  She sighed again and nudged the horse to keep moving. Such a good man deserved someone better than Charlotte Ainsworth. But he was a grown man, and he knew his own mind, so if Charlotte was who he wanted, she was who he ought to have.

  Her heart gave a rebellious kick to her ribs. She ignored it.

  Besides, maybe the major would be a good influence on the girl. Charlotte was young enough, and not nearly as intelligent as one might hope. Definitely not as headstrong as Abigail. Which meant there was a chance for Charlotte yet, she supposed. She could change. Maybe even become the sort of woman he deserved.

  For the major’s sake, she hoped so.

  For her own…?

  Well, she’d do best not to go down that path. She had her own troubles to worry about, and her own future to plan. She had a husband to hunt, and Major Mayfield had made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in being her prey.

  9

  Alex gritted his teeth—the molars in the back, anyhow. The front teeth were clenched in a forced smile.

  Charlotte sighed for the third time in as many minutes. “Why do all the roses have to look exactly the same?”

  Alex did not mention that there were differences if one looked closely enough, nor did he point out that one should never complain about being surrounded by such splendor. The garden was excellent.

  “Perhaps you’d be more interested in the wooded trail I see just over there?” he asked, pointing. “It may offer a larger variety of flora and fauna.”

  Charlotte sniffed, her tone petulant. “If you think so.”

  “I think that an excellent idea,” Lady Ainsworth called from behind them.

  Alex was certain that meant Charlotte did not agree with her mother but as he’d offered a solution to her complaint, she was having a difficult time creating a reason to not take the path.

  He’d like nothing more than return to the house as well, but he’d see the outing through. They’d barely been walking for a quarter hour.

  They entered the cool shade of the woods and he drew in a deep breath of quiet air.

  Was Abigail out riding? He’d guess that she was. It had taken nearly an hour to collect Charlotte and begin their stroll. He wished he’d slept more the night before, it would have done wonders for his patience.

  But as he’d predicted, he’d been up half the night, thinking about Abigail. About the way she felt in his arms. Or how he always felt renewed in her presence. Sometimes challenged, but always alive.

  She’d looked stunning in her dark green riding habit she’d worn when they’d bumped into one another.

  Just the memory of her soft curves pressed against him made his muscles tighten all over again.

  If she’d planned a full-scale attack on his senses, she was doing an excellent job. And honestly, he wouldn’t put it past her. Tactics were her strength.

  But there was no more malice when he considered this point. In fact, he admired the trait greatly.

  In fact, the more he thought on her, the more he wondered why he’d dismissed her upon their first meeting.

  She was a woman of substance.

  And honestly, she made this party and, he suspected, much of life, enjoyable.

  The question remained, could she become a lady of real merit? Kind as she was strong? It was a great deal to ask, he knew. But deep in his gut, excitement bubbled. It was possible.

  And as for himself...he looked over at Charlotte.

  “Walking is dreadfully tiring,” she whined. “We should find a spot to sit. Is there one in the shade where we won’t be plagued by the mosquitoes?”

  He grimaced down at her.

  In many ways, Charlotte was what he’d been searching for. There would be no unknowns there. If he married a woman like her, his life would be predictable, sedate, and dull.

  He shook his head. He’d wished for quiet after the war but then again, this was his chance at...well, life.

  His promise had been made when his heart had hurt, but as he healed, he realized he wished for more than just safe. He wanted a woman of quality, of course. One who would be a real partner in life. One who would enjoy the quiet times along with the exciting ones.

  “Sit?” he asked with a frown. They were on a path in the woods. Did she expect it to be lined with benches like a park?

  “Yes,” her voice took on a high-pitched whining sound as her mother tsked behind them. “I’m growing tired. I need a repose.”

  Tired? They’d hardly begun. “Perhaps we should return to the garden and find a bench?”

  “Charlotte,” her mother chastised, though her breath was also coming out in short gasps. “Surely we can continue on a bit longer if the major wishes to walk along this path.’

  “It’s all right, my lady,” he returned, spinning Charlotte around the narrow path. Her skirts were rather large and he imagined they were heavy to carry.

  But as they spun, a branch tangled in the back of her skirts and both of them heard the loud rip that permeated the quiet forest air.

  “No,” Charlotte gasped, letting go of his arm and twisting to look at the back of her skirts. “Look what you’ve done!”

  His chin pulled back. What he’d done? “I’m sure it can be repaired.”

  “First,” she huffed, “It’s a lace overlay so I doubt it very much and second, I could not possibly return to the house like this. I’ll be ruined.”

  “Charlotte,” her mother rushed over, inspecting the tear. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that. We’ll go through the back of the house if we must.”

  Charlotte stomped her foot on the hard dirt. “I should have known this walk was a terrible idea, Mother. What were you thinking?”

  Charlotte’s face had grown bright red. Alex was sure if a squirrel dared cross her path, she’d rail at that poor creature as well. Miss Charlotte was having a full-blown tantrum.

  “What if Emily or Clarissa sees me in this state?” She tugged at the fabric. “Someone must fetch me a cloak. I can’t be seen like this.”

  Alex nearly sighed with relief. Though entirely unnecessary, fetching Charlotte a cloak might be the best idea he’d ever heard. “Of course, Miss Charlotte. I’ll see it done at once.”

  That made the girl relax and her shoulders slumped in relief, a smile returning to her face. “Thank you, Major. You are a man of quality.”

  He tried to be. “Should we at least return to the rose garden so you may repose on a shady bench while you wait?”

  “Please,” Charlotte straightened, her frown returning. “That would be most kind. I can at least hide the hideous tear while I’m seated.”

  Alex’s brows drew together. Did she realize how she sounded? He’d heard men fuss less who’d been hit by musket fire.

  “Of course,” he answered, offering his arm once again.

  It took another fifteen minutes before they’d found a suitable bench but finally, he headed out of the garden and onto the sweeping lawn that surrounded the estate.

  But he hadn’t made it more than a few steps before he spotted a horse and rider on the edge of the forest.

  Squinting, he caught the glint of golden hair highlighted against dark green.

  He held in his breath. Surely that wasn’t Abigail?

  But she kicked the horse forward and he knew that it was her.

  He watched the fluid motion of horse and rider as she galloped toward him, her skirts billowing to one side, her back straight and fine as the steed at the ground between them.

  “Major Mayfield,” she called, as she drew up the beast in front of him. “Is
everything all right?”

  He stared up at her, forcing himself to breath. “Fine. Why?”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “You were supposed to be on a walk with Miss Charlotte but you’re leaving the gardens alone.”

  His lips curved up into a smile. “Fair point. Miss Charlotte and her mother have retired to a bench while I fetch a cloak for Charlotte.”

  “Cloak?” Abigail asked. “Whatever for? The weather is glorious today.”

  He chuckled. “There was an unfortunate incident with a tree branch and some lace.”

  Abigail’s brows raised up. “I see.”

  “The lady would be more comfortable covering the gaffe before she returned to the house.” He managed to keep his tone neutral. He’d not do Charlotte the injustice of publicly berating her but he made a promise to himself that this would be the last outing he took with her.

  Abigail shook her head. “To be young and untainted. Wish that I could care about a small rip. I dare say whispers about a torn gown would be a welcome respite from the sort of gossip they say about me.” Then she gave him a wink. “But as it happens, I have the answer to your problems. I always ride with a cloak. One never knows, with English weather, when one might be in need.”

  He cocked his head to the side. Was she referring to the rumors that had followed her to this party? Part of him wished to ask. Wished to hear the tale from her perspective. “I think it’s to your credit that you’re not quite so focused on yourself.”

  She let go of the reins and reached down to him. Without hesitation he reached up and grabbed her waist as she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Don’t be so sure. I was a fresh debutante once too and I can tell you the pressure to be perfect is immense.”

  He lifted her off the saddle and set her lightly on the ground, but he didn’t let her waist go and her hands stayed on his shoulders. “Are you defending Miss Charlotte? Weren’t you the very person who warned me against her?”

  She gave him a soft shy smile, the sort that took the air right from his lungs. “Did I?”