No amount of riding had answered those questions, but she’d realized that in the end it did not matter. Her intentions might not have been bad, but her actions had been.
His had been, too, and that was the most alarming part.
She feared that was her influence. And whether Marigold knew it or not, Abigail suspected that was what worried the sweet girl.
That Abigail would corrupt him the way she tainted everything else that was good around her.
She criticized her mother, but how different was she really?
That weary exhaustion threatened to drown her now as she faced this girl who seemed so much younger and worlds more innocent, even though they were the same age.
It was that tired resignation that had her speaking the full truth for once, without even trying to couch it in biting witticisms or feigned nonchalance. “You’re right, of course, Marigold. He’s far too good for the likes of me and we both know it.”
Marigold’s eyes widened, but Abigail gave her no room to protest.
“But you need not fear. I will keep my distance, and Alex will be better off for it.” She started to walk away, ignoring Marigold’s attempts to reply. She picked up her pace, not wanting to draw out this painful conversation any longer than was absolutely necessary.
What she’d said was the truth. And walking away from Alex was right.
She knew all this to be true.
So why did it feel as though her heart was breaking in two?
11
Alex sat staring at Max across his desk, silence filling the room. They’d been in a standoff for a minute, at least, but Alex refused to speak first. It was bad enough he’d been summoned to Max’s study like a naughty child. He’d not explain his behavior as though he’d done something wrong.
In fact, that kiss had been perfect. He’d never done anything more right in his entire life.
Max shifted in his seat and Alex followed suit.
Max’s eyes widened slightly, as though surprised, while Alex’s narrowed. He knew what Max thought. What they all thought. That he, a grown man and war veteran, needed protection from a duke’s daughter. Utterly ridiculous.
In fact, from where he sat, he was relatively certain that the only one in need of aid at this house party was Abigail.
And her tormentors might be the very people he called his friends.
All right, perhaps that was a bit dramatic, but then again Max still had yet to speak a word. “I’ve another appointment,” Alex said, preparing to rise.
Max’s brow furrowed as Alex stood. “But we’ve yet to discuss anything. Sit.”
“Why don’t you tell me what this is about?” Alex crossed his arms, widening his stance.
Max stood too. “It’s about how you’re being led astray by a—”
Alex’s chest swelled. “You’d best choose your next word very carefully.”
Max stopped, his head cocking to the side as he studied his friend. “I think perhaps we should start this conversation over.”
“I’m not sure we need to have it at all.” Alex countered. “Hence my initial silence.”
Max cleared his throat, his hands splaying out in front of him. “Do you remember the weekend I met Marigold?”
“Of course.” Alex relaxed a bit remembering how hardheaded his friend had been. He’d resisted his feelings for Marigold, refusing to change course and insisting he was not ready to marry. In the end, it had been Alex who’d nudged his friend in the right direction.
“Then you remember that you helped me see that Marigold was the right woman for me?”
“I remember.” His arms fell to his sides, the memories easing much of the tension between them.
“Then you also might acknowledge that I have nothing but your best interests at heart?” Max gestured for Alex to sit again.
He did as his friend requested but his mouth set in a hard line. “It’s not me I’m concerned about.”
Max grimaced. “I’m beginning to understand. But perhaps you could tell me what has transpired to change your mind so completely. Because last I remember, you were intent upon courting Miss Charlotte.”
“I was.” Alex swiped a hand across his forehead. He didn’t want to have this conversation now. He was due in the library in just a few minutes and he didn’t wish to be late. “But then I actually met her.”
Max’s mouth dropped open for a moment before he snapped it shut. “I see.”
Alex shook his head as he scrubbed the back of his neck. “I thought that I wanted a woman who was predictable. Meek, even. One who would bring quiet and peace into my life and help my heart and head to heal after the war but...”
Max leaned forward on his elbows. “You were looking for a woman who was boring?”
That made Alex smile. Leave it to Max to speak so plainly. “Maybe.”
Max grimaced. “Abigail is never boring, I’ll give you that.”
“No. She isn’t. But it’s more than that, Max. What I realized about my interest in Charlotte was that I was looking for a woman who was safe, not one whom I actually cared about. And while I thought I needed security, what I was actually craving was…” He searched for the right word.
“Are you going to say excitement?” his impatient friend cut in. “Because if you were, is it possible that Abigail is equally detrimental, just in the completely opposite direction of Charlotte?”
Alex spread his hands before him on the desk. “It’s more than excitement. She makes me feel… lighter. Alive. Happy. Ready to live life again.”
“Abigail?” Max asked, his incredulous tone making Alex bristle again.
He straightened. “Since we began talking about your courtship with Marigold, let me remind you that I never once told you whom you should or should not have feelings for. I simply asked your future wife to dance, sparking your natural jealousy.”
Max had the decency to wince. “I understand your point. But it’s just that Abigail is so…”
Alex’s teeth clenched. “I heard Marigold’s story. She acted as most debutantes would.”
Max shook his head. “She turned on Lily when Lily needed her most. If I’m honest, I’m afraid she would do the same to you.”
Alex paused, one of his hands gripping the arm of the chair he sat in. “Max.” he let out a long breath, attempting to keep his calm. He knew his friend wanted to look after him, but he was being completely unfair. “I know that you have done things in your past that filled you with regret.”
“You know that I did.” Max’s voice was laced with pain. “There is much, especially with my father, that I wish I could do over.”
“I understand. And I honestly think you should understand that it is unfair to judge Abigail based on one event of wrongdoing that happened years ago. We grow, we change, we learn from our pasts and we hopefully become people of substance. She made an error in judgment. Yes. But will you paint her as a villain for the rest of her life?”
Max didn’t reply, but his silence and the way his head bowed, spoke volumes.
But Alex wasn’t done. “As I have spent a great deal of time speaking with Abigail, I can tell you that I know her nature far better than you.”
Max grimaced, his fingers scratching at his jaw. “You’re right.”
Alex sat back, not expecting the words from Max. “I’m right?”
“Yes. And if you really think she is a woman of substance, I’ll support you. But I do warn you, this is going to make next Christmastide rather difficult. To think of Abigail joining our circle…”
Alex grinned, his chin tucking down. Because the very idea of being with Abigail at Christmastide, of building a life together... “Oh, how tongues would wag.”
Max chuckled. “That would be rather fun.”
“It would.” Alex stood again, this time far slower and without irritation.
Max stood too. “You know your own mind then.”
“I do.” And he also had a pretty good idea of Abigail’s too. And if he wasn’t mi
staken, he’d upset her with that kiss. She was right, he should have waited until it had been completely clear that he and Charlotte were done and that his interest was only in Abigail. That was his mistake and one he intended to correct post haste. “If you would excuse me, I really do have another appointment.”
Max nodded. “Go. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Alex turned and left the room, intent upon reaching the library before everyone gathered in the salon. He was running out of time as he heard the clock strike seven from somewhere in the foyer. He’d asked for this meeting and if he didn’t arrive—
But he hadn’t made it a few steps down the hall when he was accosted by more well-intentioned friends. For which he had almost no patience left.
But as Marigold and Lily fell into step on either side of him, he was forced to slow his pace. “Ladies, whatever you wish to speak with me about, can it wait? I’m already late.”
“It can’t,” Lily replied, never one to mince words.
“Lily,” Marigold soothed, her voice gentle. “We promised to be delicate.”
“Then I must delicately suggest that Major Mayfield stop and listen to us rather than rushing off to wherever he is going.”
His eyebrows lifted as he assessed the red-haired beauty. She and Abigail as friends must have been a force to be reckoned with. “Or perhaps,” he replied. “You should make an appointment for which I will do my absolute best not to be late.”
Marigold made a squeak, letting him know that he’d surprised her. He knew he wasn’t acting like his usual self, but he had no patience left for words spoken against Abigail. Because that was surely what this ambush was about.
Lily sniffed. “Fair point. How about we walk with you, doing our absolute best to keep up?”
It was a compromise he appreciated but if he were being honest, he didn’t want to hear what they had to say. “Fine. But as a gentleman, I warn you, if you’re here to sway me against Abigail then you’re wasting your breath in the walking and the talking.”
“I’m not,” Marigold touched his arm. “Here to sway you against her.”
“You’re not?” came Lily’s incredulous reply.
“I’m not,” Marigold straightened.
Alex stopped again, his attention focused on Marigold’s chocolate brown gaze. “Really?”
“Really.” Marigold reached for his hand, pulling him to move again. “I won’t bore you with the details, but I happen to know for a fact that she cares for you so deeply, she’ll even let you go because she thinks it’s best for you.”
Pride and something else swelled in his chest. What was that sweet emotion, filling him, making him feel lighter? Like a flash, he realized it was love. Pure and sweet. The realization stole his breath and drew in a heavy gulp of air as he looked down at Marigold. “Did she tell you that?”
Lily made a snorting noise of dissent. “Oh please. This is Abigail we’re talking about. Of all the shallow, hateful, mean debutantes—”
“Lily,” he interrupted, once again delivering the same message he’d given to Max. “You speak with such charity, clearly you are a much better person than she.”
Lily’s face turned a shade of red that matched her hair. He winced to know that his blow had hit its mark so completely. It wasn’t a role he relished but he could not listen to her denigrate Abigail. “I know you’re likely angry at me, and later you can tell me how awful I am, but I really am very late.”
They were finally nearing the library, the glow of candles shining out from the open door. Lily began to reply, but voices from within the large room stopped all three of them in their tracks.
“What were you doing all afternoon?” the sharp voice of Lady Gorem cut through the air.
“Riding, Mother,” Abigail answered, sounding more tired than Alex had ever heard her. Defeated might have been the better word.
“You’ve this one season to choose a husband for yourself before your father and I choose for you and yet you’ve squandered an opportunity to spend time with several eligible lords this afternoon?”
Abigail let out a sigh. “That’s right. I needed to clear my head.”
“Disappointing, dear. That’s what you are. It’s no wonder you’re still unmarried. What did I do to deserve such a pathetic excuse of a daughter?”
Lily cleared her throat next to him. “I’d forgotten how difficult her mother could be.”
Difficult? That word didn’t even begin to describe Lady Gorem. Rather than give her daughter an ounce of sympathy, she cut her daughter to shreds.
“I know, Mother. I’m a great disappointment and you’ll absolutely hate it when you have to choose a husband for me.”
Her mother harrumphed. “You should have married the first man I chose for you. Lord Merrick was a fine catch and—”
“Lord Merrick was always meant to be Lily’s.” Abigail’s voice gained some strength with that assertion. “Letting him loose was the only thing I did right that season.”
Lily grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh, but Alex barely noticed. His own head swam. No wonder Abigail had struggled to make the right choices, the decent choices. She was being harangued at every turn. Anger swelled in his chest.
“You did right? I’m the one who decided you should turn your attention to the heir of the marquessate. Likely a mistake. I overestimated your abilities to capture a man’s fancy. I thought you might be able to tame a rake. I should have known you couldn’t.”
Lily made a noise somewhere between a strangled cry and a growl.
“Why dig up the past now?” Abigail asked. “You’ve won, Mother. Soon you’ll get to choose my match and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
Her mother’s voice was a poisonous hiss. “That day cannot come soon enough.”
Alex straightened his spine as his fists clenched at his side. The woman he loved needed him and he had every intention of aiding her now. Lady Gorem would not win. Not if he had anything to say about it.
A plan began to form in his mind. A brilliant idea to show Abigail exactly how he felt while saving her from her mother’s vitriol. Was this impulsive? Yes. Absolutely. But it was right. His love needed him.
For the first time in his life he was about to charge into battle without a plan, but he knew exactly what he was fighting for. Abigail’s future. His own.
12
Abigail’s mouth was open, ready to respond to her mother’s last barb, but the words died on her tongue as the partially open door swung wide on its hinges.
Her mother gasped, startled by the major’s abrupt entrance, and no doubt by the sight of Lily and Marigold hovering behind him with wide eyes like they were spectators at some sort of sporting event.
“Alex?” Abigail had been expecting him, of course, but not like this. Not barging in here with a look of such fierce determination.
A thrill ran through her as his heated gaze landed on her. The intensity in his eyes gave her a sudden and terrifying flash of what his enemies must have seen when they faced him across the battlefield.
“Why, Major Mayfield, what are you doing here?” her mother asked, trying to recover her composure.
Abigail flinched. She’d been hoping to slip away from her mother before this little tête-à-tête, but her mother had been particularly formidable this evening. No doubt because Abigail had fled the manor and all social obligations for the better part of the day and her mother knew it.
But now her mother was looking from the major to her with narrowed eyes. “Abigail, what is the meaning of this?”
“Mother, I—”
“Lady Gorem,” Alex interjected. “What a pleasure to find you here.” The words were nice, but his tone belied the sentiment. “I’ve been hoping to find a moment to speak to you about courting your daughter.”
Abigail’s eyes widened and her heart rate quickened with alarm. What was he doing? Her gaze flickered to a stricken Lily and a clearly horrified Marigold. It was the sight of Marigold that had the
pieces clicking into place at last.
The kiss.
Marigold had told Lily, that was why they were here. Word must have spread and now the major was trying to do right by her at the cost of his own happiness.
Oh, Alex. Kind, noble, selfless Alex.
Her heart twisted in her chest as her mother’s mouth flapped open and shut. It would have been comical if Abigail’s world was not being thrown upside down. “What is the meaning of this?” When her mother finally spoke, the question was aimed at her, accusations clear in her eyes. “What have you done?”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Gorem, but I believe this is a conversation best had between you and me. In private.”
“Pardon me?” Abigail managed, anger rising up inside of her and bringing with it some semblance of clarity. What did he think he was doing?
Saving her. The answer was obvious. He thought he was saving her reputation.
Her heart was still twisting—no, breaking in her chest. But anger was familiar and gave her strength. “You mean to discuss my future with my mother? Don’t you think you ought to consult with me first, Major?”
His gaze shifted to her and landed on her like a weight. She tried not to flinch again at the heaviness of it. Of the heat and the passion that she saw there.
“You’re right,” he said. “Apologies. I heard your mother say she would choose your husband and thought perhaps I’d best make it known to her that this would not be necessary.”
“And why not?” Her mother drew herself up to her full height. “I don’t know who you think you are, sir, but—”
“I am the man who means to propose to your daughter,” he said. His tone was steel, his words arrows that pierced straight through her heart.
It was everything she wanted. She realized that as soon as he said it. With his words came image upon image of what a life with this man would look like and it was...well, it was heaven. A life filled with love. With understanding. With learning and growing and being challenged. Her heart ached as an image of a family filled her mind and took her breath away.
A Hero for Lady Abigail Page 9