Lady Abigale’s Wager: Brides of Somerset Book Three

by Lynne, Karen

  “Benjamin!” Isabella’s eyes widened as a well-proportioned gentleman leaned over and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

  “Isabella, my dear sister, you look well. Mrs Notley has graciously offered to introduce me to your friend.” He turned a smile towards Abby.

  “Lady Abigale, may I introduce Mr Dalton, Isabella’s brother?” Mrs Notley smiled, tapping her fan on Mr Dalton’s shoulder. “There, Mr Dalton, I have done my duty; the rest is up to you.” She gave him a nod as she moved off.

  Abby found herself staring into bright blue eyes, a smile showed his dimple. He was quite handsome with the same light wavy hair and fair skin as his sister.

  “I am happy to finally meet you, Lady Abigale, as my sister has talked so highly of you. May I?” he asked, reaching for her dance card.

  She handed him the card, and she stared over his shoulder at her friend Isabella, a silent question in her eyes. Isabella shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

  “I look forward to our dance.” Benjamin bowed. Returning her card, he reached over and retrieved his sister’s dance card and signed his name.

  “Isabella, I was sad to hear Mother is calling you home, cutting short your visit with Lady Abigale.”

  “Oh?” Abby looked up.

  “It is true. I received my mother’s letter this morning. Mrs Notley is leaving at the end of the week to return to Bristol, and I’ll be going with her,” Isabella said.

  “I am sad to hear it, but do not despair, Isabella. Bristol is but eleven miles from here. I shall be here all summer and will find the time to come visit,” Abby replied

  “I would like that.” Isabella brightened.

  “I think our parents would be glad to meet you. Just say the word, and I shall escort you to Bristol,” Isabella’s brother offered.

  “That is kind of you, Mr Dalton,” Abby replied.

  Mr Woodland appeared to claim Abby’s first dance, interrupting their small group. Abby watched as Isabella’s brother led his sister onto the dance floor. She was surprised by his behaviour as William had not thought much of him because of his neglect of Isabella.

  As Abby moved onto the dance floor with her partner, she couldn’t keep her mind off Sir Andrew’s change in appearance, and him taking her two waltzes.

  The quick steps of the Scottish dance made it challenging to converse with Mr Woodland as she watched the gay colours of dresses swirl through the hall, enhanced by the glow from the gas lamps.

  Abby contemplated her dance partner as they swung around on their turn. He was handsome enough, although his nose was a little long. Abby asked questions to get a better understanding of him. She found gentlemen enjoyed talking about themselves. Mr Woodland made small talk about the weather as they joined the next dance.

  Again, he was good-looking, but the real issue was his job as a midshipman. Could she sit at home while he went to sea for long periods of time? Could she fall in love with him? Probably not. She mentally checked him off her list as she was escorted to Mrs. Notley’s side.

  After several more dances and several more checks as she dropped the gentlemen from her list, she was ready for a respite.

  “Mr Easton, I fear I require a little rest. Would you mind if we sat by a cool window and talked?”

  “Most certainly, Lady Abigale.” Mr Easton offered his arm and Abby slipped her hand through, keeping her touch light. They gathered up a glass of lemonade before finding a seat by an open window.

  Abby sipped the cooling liquid and flipped her fan open, waving it in front of her flushed face. “Mr Easton, you must tell me, do you like to hunt?”

  “Oh, yes, Lady Abigale,” he replied as he began to give her details of his prized hunters. He was just getting warmed up to the subject when Abby noticed Sir Andrew dancing with Isabella. Her heart fluttered as it did when she first saw him at Mrs Notley’s home that evening. A strange feeling, Abby had never felt before. She swallowed, pushing the feelings down inside as she turned her attention back to Mr Easton. His face flushed with enthusiasm as he continued to talk about his dogs. She wondered what passions Sir Andrew had besides his estate and his seat in Parliament.

  Abby hadn’t noticed the music stop until she heard a deep voice next to her. “Lady Abigale, I believe this is my dance.” She turned. Sir Andrew was at her side. Her heart thumped again as she looked into his clear eyes.

  “Mr Easton, thank you for talking with me and for the fine description of your hunting dogs.” She nodded.

  Taking Sir Andrew’s arm, her fingers tingled with warmth as he led her onto the dance floor. He wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping air between them as the strains of the waltz began. His steps were smooth as he guided her around the room. She admired his cravat and the excellent points of his collar, dropped just below his handsome, clean-shaven face. A small dimple showed in the cleft of his chin.

  * * *

  Lady Abigale scrutinised his coat and cravat as she slowly lifted her eyes to his. “Do you approve?” he remarked as he cocked his brow. Most people would have shrunk from his look, but she didn’t even blush as she laughed, a pleasant sound.

  “Yes, wholeheartedly. As I said at Mrs Notley’s house, a vast improvement.”

  “Yes, I recall you said like bees to honey. From that remark, I assume you still intend to use me as bait to catch a husband?”

  She lowered her eyes and at least had the courtesy to blush. “I never used the word bait.”

  “Yes, but you implied it.”

  “I do apologise. But I was a little put out at your threat to tell my father of my behaviour if I didn’t attend the theatre with you.”

  “I never said that.” Sir Andrew’s eyes darkened.

  “Not in so many words, but it was implied. I highly suspect that my father tasked you with spying on me while I was here. You cannot blame me for taking advantage of the acquaintance.”

  She had a point, and he was not about to admit to keeping an eye on her as Sir George had asked.

  “Sir Andrew, let us not quarrel. I know we got off to a bad start. Can we not start over and be friends? Your acquaintance has already done the trick. She dangled her dance card before his eyes. My dance card is full, thanks to you, and I have been checking the gentleman off my list.”

  “Your list?” His eyebrows raised.

  “Yes, a list of qualities you want in a husband, or a wife, as in your case. You cannot tell me a gentleman doesn’t have a list of qualities they want in a wife?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, “but Lady Abigale, I am not used to hearing it so bluntly from young ladies.”

  Her delightful laugh filled the air again. “You are right, Sir Andrew. But I promise you, I can hold my tongue when needed.”

  “Indeed.” He gave her a sceptical look.

  “Yes, I can, and I will prove it. Come, let us be friends so that I will not worry about you tattling to my father.”

  “Lady Abigale, I do not tattle.” He gave her a stern look, softening it with a slight smile. “I agree it would be better to be friends as I fear you would be a challenging enemy.”

  “Wonderful. As Mrs Notley will be leaving at the end of the week, might you help me in finding a husband?”

  She never ceased to surprise him. “Lady Abigale, how can I be of help in finding you a husband? It escapes me.”

  She giggled, “Oh, dear, I have put it badly. What I mean is I need you to assess the character of the gentlemen. It will save me the effort of finding out for myself, which I fear can be a waste of my time if he is not suitable.”

  The music came to an end, and the dance finished. “Lady Abigale, I fear you make my head hurt. I will have to think about it and give you my answer later.”

  He gladly led her back to Mrs Notley and excused himself. He hoped his next dance would be calmer.

  Chapter Seven

  Abby had never danced so many dances in a row and began to wane as the night wore on. She had even suggested to sit out a few, which allowed her to rest as well
as interview the current gentleman. Abby never thought picking a husband could be such a chore. If Sir Andrew would consent to help her, she knew things would go much quicker.

  Mr Dalton arrived and interrupted Abby’s thoughts. “I believe this is our dance, Lady Abigale.” His slight smile showed a dimple. He really was quite attractive and well-formed in his fashionable attire. She took the arm he offered, and they moved onto the dance floor where the next set of dancers lined up.

  “Isabella tells me your parents are merchants and have done very well for your family.”

  “Yes, they are.” His brow cocked in her direction.

  “Do they own ships as well, Mr Dalton?”

  “No, my parents own warehouses along the waterfront in Bristol and deal with distributing imported goods.”

  “Oh, I see. Will you work with your parents in the business? Or will you retire a gentleman in the country to live off your parents’ wealth?”

  Mr Dalton’s eyes widened as he gapped at her. “Lady Abigale.” He laughed, his smile returning. “You are a very forthright lady. Wouldn’t you rather talk about the weather?” He bowed and swung her around, following the steps of the Lancers Quadrille before he was out of talking range.

  “If this subject makes you uncomfortable, we can talk about the weather,” Abby responded as he came back to her side. Concerned she had made him uncomfortable with her blunt questions, she gave him a demure smile. He was the most intriguing of her partners thus far, and she was curious at Mr Dalton’s friendly behaviour towards her.

  “Certainly not, Lady Abigale, but I shall hold off my answers to your questions until the dance is finished, as you are making me miss my steps.”

  She felt compassion for him and held her tongue for eleven minutes until the set had finished. She took his arm and walked towards her group.

  “To answer your question, Lady Abigale—see? I have been quite attentive.” Mr Dalton tapped her hand with his. “My father has spent a large sum of money on my education, and he expects a return on his investment. So, I have been working with him to learn the business.”

  “And do you like the import business, Mr Dalton? Or is it something that is expected of you?”

  “I do not dislike it, Lady Abigale. My parents can be difficult. They are not affectionate. I disagree with the way my father does things, but what son doesn’t? I may have a chance to change things in the future, one never knows.” He smiled.

  He walked Abby over to her aunt. “Ah, Mrs Notley, I have returned your charge.”

  “Lady Abigale, I thank you for your amusing conversation. I hope that I may call on you?” Mr Dalton bowed.

  “I would like that, Mr Dalton.”

  “Like what?” Isabella asked as she joined the group.

  “Lady Abigale has consented to let me call on her,” her brother informed his sister.

  “Oh.” Isabella’s eyes widened as she looked between her brother and Abby.

  “Do not fret, sister. I will be on my best behaviour. I believe I have your next dance?” He offered his arm.

  Isabella let him lead her away. Looking over her shoulder, she gave Abby a shrug.

  “I believe Isabella is surprised at her brother’s attention,” Abby informed Mrs Notley.

  “I quite agree, and I am just as astonished as she. I can’t remember when I last saw Mr Dalton so animated.”

  “I confess, I like Mr Dalton. He isn’t what I expected, not from what William told me about him. Let’s see if my opinion of him holds up upon further acquaintance.”

  “Lady Abigail.” Her heart fluttered as Sir Andrew’s voice resonated through her. “I am here to claim the last dance.” He bowed.

  “Mrs Notley.” He nodded in deference to the older woman before taking Abby’s hand and leading her to the floor. His touch jolted her fingers even through her gloves. She wondered at it, for he was the only gentleman that evening to make her vibrate with these new sensations.

  The music started, and Sir Andrew wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her near. She held her breath as the sensations continued, and he began to whirl her around the ballroom. She dared to look up. He gave her a half-smile.

  “Lady Abigale, I have decided to take you up on your offer to find you a husband. But only on my conditions. No, do not say anything. I will call on you this week to go over the details.” He pulled her closer, causing her skin to oscillate, silencing any objection she may have had. She concentrated on keeping up with his steps to avoid stumbling while the room whirled around them. His spicy scent tickled her nose, making it harder for her to keep up. Relief flooded through her as the music ended. She stepped from his embrace and the world stopped spinning.

  The party gathered their wraps and stepped into the night. Fresh air hit Abby’s face, bringing her back to her senses. Sir Andrew helped her into the carriage, his touch reverberating through her. She slid to the far side of the seat, leaning her head against the door. Abby closed her eyes, blocking her view of Sir Andrew and his commanding figure. She was just tired from too much dancing, that was all.

  * * *

  Abby woke up the next morning with sun pouring through her window. Betsy brought a tray filled with tempting delights and placed it on the small table next to the cold fireplace.

  “I know you had a late night, ma’am, so I brought you a tray.”

  “Thank you, Betsy. I fear my head is still a little muddled from the late night.”

  “The tea will do you good, then, my lady.”

  Abby agreed. Pulling back the covers, she swung her legs over the bed and reached for her dressing gown. Slipping her feet into the slippers by her bed, Abby walked to the sitting room and splashed cold water on her face. She turned her head from side to side as she examined her reflection in the mirror. Not too bad. No dark shadows under her eyes. She reached for the brush and applied tooth powder, cleaning her teeth thoroughly.

  Back in her room, she reached for her letter on her dresser and poured a cup of tea. Snatching a sprig of parsley off her tray, she began to chew. The fresh green taste exploded in her mouth.

  Taking her tea and letter to the window seat, she settled down against a pillow and, with the sun warming her, she re-read her aunt’s letter. Aunt Lucy would be here either tomorrow or the next day, depending on the condition of the roads. The rains had stopped, so she might make better time. Abby was glad she was coming. Mrs Notley was taking Joanne and Isabella back to Bristol at the end of the week and had offered her home for Abby and her aunt to use.

  She had been bustling from place to place since she got to Bath. It would be nice to just spend the day walking in the park and getting some strawberry ice in town. Sir Andrew had not told her when he would be calling, but she was curious as to whom he would recommend. She sat back, gazing out the window. Her room faced the back of the house, where a small kitchen garden could be seen. At the end of the plot, a gardener taking advantage of the cool morning dug in the dirt below. She found herself comparing Sir Andrew to the other interested beaus.

  Abby entered the parlour, a plethora of floral arrangements were scattered throughout the room. Isabella entered behind her. “It appears we were quite popular last night.” She smiled. Walking towards some of the bouquets, she plucked a card from one of the arrangements, reading the note before taking another. “It is a shame. Just when things are getting exciting, my mother calls me home.” Isabella sighed.

  “We shall make the most of the next few days,” Abby promised.

  A maid walked into the parlour, carrying a few more bundles of flowers. “We are running out of space, my lady.” The maid looked around.

  “Take them to the other rooms in the house,” Abby said.

  “Yes, my lady.” The maid left the parlour, her arms full of colour.

  “I would like to get a breath of air before afternoon callers begin. If the flowers are a forewarning, I think it will be a crowded afternoon.” Abby linked arms with Isabella. Making their way to the hall, they collected
their parasols and walked across the street into the park.

  “I was surprised when I met your brother. He’s not like William described him,” Abby said.

  “He must have been impressed by you; I have never seen him be so attentive to a female before.” Isabella laughed. “Too bad, I am going home. I would have like to see if it lasts.”

  “It really is inconvenient when you’ve had so many gentlemen show interest in you to just up and leave.” Abby kicked a stone across the path.”

  “I am used to it.” Isabella sighed. “My mother sent word that she’s giving a dinner party. A gentleman is attending; she wants me to meet.”

  “We shall eat luncheon in town, then I shall buy you strawberry ice as a parting gift,” Abby promised.

  Children’s laughter caught her attention. A young boy and girl chased a ball across the lawn, reminding her of her nephew who was just beginning to walk. The flowers were in full bloom, and dew still moistened their petals while the hum of bees could be heard as they buzzed between flowers competing for pollen.

  “Abby, you’re wool-gathering. Is it Sir Andrew and the waltzes last night that has you so far away?”

  “Isabella!” Abby exclaimed. “I was thinking of my nephew. Do you know he is nearing two this summer?” She twirled her parasol, creating a small breeze in the humid air. “By the time I see him again, he shall be running away from the nanny and causing all kinds of mischief, I expect.”

  “Eliza and William must be so proud.”

  “They are, and I expect them to fill the house with heaps of children.”

  They completed a second round through the park before entering the parkway and walking toward town for their luncheon. “You know, the ladies were abuzz with gossip when we came to the ball, escorted by Sir Andrew, and he danced with Joanne and me. But he took both of your waltzes. You should have heard the whispers among the gentry. The mothers were positively jealous for their daughters.”