Lady Abigale’s Wager: Brides of Somerset Book Three

by Lynne, Karen

“They would not be if they knew he was only doing it as a favour to my father. He has practically made me his ward. Why he even agreed to help me find a husband.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Isabella raised her brows. “Are you sure it is not himself looking to be your husband?”

  Abby laughed out loud at the thought, then covered her mouth with her hand as she looked around. She needed to be more genteel, especially in public. “Isabella, that is absurd. I have done nothing but annoy him since we met. I promise you he only wants to keep my good reputation intact for my father’s sake.”

  Isabella gave her a sceptical look as they reached the eatery.

  “I will say, several gentlemen were put out that my waltzes were taken, but I was able to eliminate quite a few from my list. With Sir Andrew’s help, I can concentrate on the few who pass the test.” They were shown to a table, and Abby skimmed through the menu before giving the server her order.

  Isabella shook her head. “You have a test for a potential husband? What do you do? Check off a list of attributes?”

  “Well, sort of.” The server brought two lemonades over ice with a sprinkling of raspberries. Moisture dripped from the frosty glasses. Abby took a sip, savouring the sweet taste. “Hm, this is delicious.”

  Isabella followed, agreeing it was just what they needed after their morning walk in the park.

  “I hope to like my husband, and he should have a profession or at least serve somewhere. I would hate for him to laze around, living off my inheritance. A gentleman needs to be busy doing good so that he doesn’t get into mischief. Surely that is not asking too much?” Abby took a bite of her chicken.

  “Yes, I agree you are very sensible. You will write and tell me all about your search?” Isabella smiled, taking a bite of her luncheon.

  “Of course.” Abby nodded, concentrating on her meal.

  Abby watched the patrons around her. An elderly matron sat with her small pug, delicately feeding him tidbits from her meal. A family with three well-behaved children ate while their father read the post, and the mother fussed with the baby.

  “Isabella.” Abby folded her napkin and placed it on the table. Reaching in her reticule, she extracted coins to pay for the meal. “I want to take you to get the most delicious strawberry ice. Miss Steward took me there the first week I resided with her.”

  She gathered her parasol and Isabella followed, their walking boots clicking on the stone walk. They headed in the direction of the confectionary shop.

  Chapter Eight

  Sir Andrew visited his son in the nursery before attending to the business of his estate. His housekeeper and steward had the summer lawn party in hand. Invitations had been sent, and the weather looked like it may cooperate. Although the humidity was high, tents would be set up to keep the guests out of the sun.

  It was a time when all classes of citizens could mix for an enjoyable day with their families. He usually invited a few guests to stay for the weekend. He decided to invite Sir George’s sister and Lady Abigale.

  He should have been offended by her request to help her find a husband—as he’d suspected she thought him a father figure—but instead, he’d found himself agreeing. After all, the young men he had seen flocking around her would be putty in her hands. They weren’t strong enough to handle her larger-than-life personality. And he—well, he did not feel like a father to Lady Abigale. Quite the opposite, she stirred emotions in him he had never felt before. Mostly irritation, but something else as well.

  He should quit while he was ahead and move on since her aunt would be here to guide her. But for some reason, he kept coming back into her presence. She certainly wasn’t dull. She would need a husband who could keep her in hand without breaking her spirit. Someone who could guide her without eating up her inheritance.

  He met with his solicitor, who gave him reports on his holdings in America and his plantations in the West Indies. He would need to make a trip there soon as it had been several years and it was imperative, he visit his holdings to keep his stewards honest, and profits maximised.

  Maybe he could make it a wedding trip? Lady Abigale’s eyes haunted him. He must be mad. She would drive him to distraction— but what a distraction it would be. He smiled at the thought.

  * * *

  Abby and Isabella returned to the house around one-fifteen. She handed her parasol and shawl to a maid and noticed the silver savor on the side table filled with cards. Sir Andrew’s was not among the top cards. He hadn’t made an appearance today. Disappointed, she ascended the stairs to change for their afternoon visits. Betsy was waiting when Abby entered her room. Untying her ribbons, she handed her bonnet off to her maid.

  “Miss, Lady Phelips arrived while you were out this morning.”

  Although her aunt’s letter did not mention it, Abby knew why she was coming. Mrs Packett must have written her father of her leaving them at Farlington. She didn’t regret the act, for she could not have made it another day cooped up in the carriage with Mrs Packett’s cantankerous daughters. It was just her bad luck to pick Sir Andrew’s conveyance.

  Abby washed up and finished dressing. Returning downstairs, she could hear voices coming from the drawing-room. She entered, happy to see her aunt looking so well after her journey. “Aunt Lucy, I did not expect to see you this early.” Abby approached and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “We started out earlier than expected. The roads were tolerable. Mr Albert insisted on accompanying me so we made good time.”

  “Mr Albert came with you? Alone?”

  “I would not worry so much at my age, but no, dear. My maid accompanied us. Everything must be proper as an example to my niece.” Her aunt smiled. Eyes twinkling, she gave Abby a knowing look.

  Abby clapped her hands in delight, choosing to ignore her aunt’s subtle warning. “Aunt Lucy, is Mr Albert courting you?” Abby sat down next to her aunt, preparing to hear the whole story.

  “Abby, how you go on.” Her aunt blushed as she waved her hand in Abby’s direction. “Let’s say we are enjoying each other’s company.” Her smile brightened.

  “I see that you and your friends have made a conquest.” Her aunt changed the subject, peering around the room alight with colour.

  Abby followed her aunt’s eyes. The maid had arranged the bouquets artfully around the drawing room. “Yes, we have been very blessed. Sir Andrew escorted us to the ball last night and danced with Joanne, Isabella and myself, in turn, causing a sensation. We danced all night.”

  “Sir Andrew?” Aunt Lucy’s brows raised as she turned to Mrs Notley for confirmation.

  “Yes, it is true, Lucy, Sir Andrew has been escorting the girls about town the past few weeks,” Mrs Notley replied.

  Isabella entered the drawing room. Abby stood and greeted her. “Isabella, my aunt has arrived while we were out this morning.” Abby linked her arm with Isabella and brought her to stand in front of her aunt.

  “Aunt Lucy, I’d like you to meet Miss Isabella Dalton.”

  Her aunt’s eyes gazed over Isabella and took in her countenance. “Miss Dalton, it is good to finally meet you.”

  Abby sat down next to her aunt again while Isabella bobbed a curtsy before joining them, sitting in a chair next to the sofa.

  “Miss Dalton, could you be the reason Sir Andrew has been so attentive since Abby has been in town?” Aunt Lucy asked.

  Isabella’s eyes widened as she looked between Aunt Lucy and Mrs Notley. “Oh, no, my lady, I assure you, Sir. Andrew has never addressed me personally until Lady Abigale came to Bath.” She looked at Mrs Notley.

  “That is true,” Mrs Notley confirmed. “Our most distinguished bachelor has shown Lady Abigale much interest since she has been here. He has been kind enough to include Joanne and Isabella in his attention, which has opened up their prospects considerably, as you can see.” She waved her hand around the room, indicating the flowers. “And this is just after one ball.”

  “I see.” Aunt Lucy looked at Abby. “Well, dear
, I think I’ll change and rest before dinner. Come, help me.” She patted Abby’s hand.

  Now Abby would find out the reason her aunt made this visit when she would rather stay home and be courted by Mr Albert. Abby turned her head to see Isabella watching her leave the room, mouthing the words good luck.

  She would need it. Although her aunt was indulgent, she had her limits and could be as stern as her father. They reached her aunt’s room where her maid had finished unpacking. Aunt Lucy let the maid help her into a comfortable dressing gown before excusing her.

  Her aunt settled on the divan and fluffed some pillows before she relaxed into them, resting her feet on a plush stool.

  “Abby, dear, can you guess why I have come to Bath, leaving my comfortable home to ride for days, rattling across dusty roads in this humidity?”

  “Mrs Packett—?” Abby guessed, looking down at her shoes as if suddenly interested in the pattern, unwilling to meet her aunt’s gaze.

  “Do you know how upset your father was when he got her letter saying you had disappeared off into the night?”

  “I left Mrs Packett a note,” Abby offered, but it sounded weak even to her.

  “Really, Abigale Phelips . . . I have taught you better . . . You know how dangerous it is to travel these roads between London and Bath. You could have been murdered and thrown into a ditch along the road, and we would never have been able to find you, or worse . . . no, I will not even mention it.” Her aunt brushed the hair across her forehead before letting out a deep breath.

  “Your father was ready to come and find you when we received a letter from Mrs Notley, informing us that she had taken you under her wing and Sir Andrew was making sure you were well received.” Aunt Lucy’s fingers trembled as she smoothed her dressing gown.

  “He still may have come and dragged you home, vowing to marry you off to the first mature gentleman who would agree, had I not offered to come in his place. You have greatly inconvenienced me, Abigale. You are just fortunate Mr Albert offered to escort me here and stay so that we might continue our acquaintance.”

  Abby was intelligent enough to keep her mouth closed and look repentant as her aunt continued her tirade.

  “Thank heavens it was Sir Andrew who offered to bring you to Bath. Betsy was with you, I presume?”

  “Yes, of course,” Abby acknowledged. “He delivered us early just before dawn at Miss Stewart’s. Nobody was aware of our arrival.”

  Her aunt took another deep breath, steadying her temper. Abby could see she was beyond frustrated as her colouring returned to normal. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer.

  “Abigale, you are no longer a child running around, playing larks everywhere. You are also not an innocent seventeen-year-old debutante. Abby, you must take care. It is time you settled. I don’t want you to lose your excitement for life, but it must be tempered with wisdom and maturity. I see that Sir Andrew has taken care to protect your reputation. At least that is something.”

  “You know Sir Andrew?”

  Her aunt gave her a frosty look. She was obviously still annoyed at her behaviour. “Yes, dear. Sir Andrew is a very wealthy, influential Peer. He has known your father for many years.”

  “Why have I not met him before?” Abby asked.

  “Because he does not mix with young debutantes nor mothers looking for husbands for their daughters.” Her aunt gave her a look as if she should have known this.

  Abby knew it, Sir Andrew was spying on her. Well, she would be on her best behaviour, and he would forget she’d pulled that little prank on him. Abby would charm him with her . . . Well, she would think of something.

  “Abby, I must rest. Mrs Notley has invited Sir Andrew and Mr Dalton to dinner. She was gracious enough to include Mr Albert. Do you think you can keep out of trouble while I rest?” Her aunt closed her eyes, dismissing her.

  She turned and left before her aunt found anything else to berate her with. Abby returned to the drawing room much chastened. She hated it when Aunt Lucy was cross with her. Abby knew she deserved it, but it was difficult to hear from someone she loved so dearly. Aunt Lucy was correct, of course. She could have come to harm. It pained her to disappoint her aunt, and she vowed to make it up to her.

  Abby entered the drawing room to find Mr Woodland seated. He quickly stood when she came into the room. “Lady Abigale.” He came forward to greet her. “We were just discussing how fine the dance was last night.”

  “Indeed, it was, Mr Woodland,” Abby agreed, sitting next to Isabella. They continued their small talk for the next fifteen minutes until Mr Woodland retreated. Several more gentlemen callers passed through the drawing-room before it was time to dress for dinner at six. Slightly late for dining compared to the country, but it worked well for the long summer days in the city.

  Chapter Nine

  Andrew’s valet was careful in his dress that evening as he prepared him for dinner at Mrs Notley’s. Baley had done his job well brushing the last specks from his shoulders. Sir Andrew’s boots had been spit-polished, his coat hugged his muscular frame, and his pants were pressed to perfection. He had no complaints about his valet, who had an excellent eye for what was fashionable without being gouache.

  Letting his driver take the closed carriage in case it rained, he settled back against the seat and relaxed, although it was a short drive into town.

  Mrs Notley’s butler admitted him. Taking his hat, he handed it to a footman before showing Andrew to the great room where guests had started to gather. Across the room, Lady Abigale conversed with Miss Isabella and her brother. Miss Joanne giggled softly at something Lady Abigale said while Mr Dalton nodded in agreement. The small group appeared comfortable.

  Mrs Notley swept over when he was announced by the butler, bringing him into a circle of adults. “Sir Andrew, I want to introduce you to a guest.”

  “Lady Phelips, I’d like you to meet Sir Andrew, whom you may already know from London.”

  “Yes.” Her soft smile welcomed him. “Sir Andrew, it’s good to see you.”

  “Lady Phelips,” he said, bowing, “always a pleasure.”

  She turned to a mature gentleman at her side, whose soft brown eyes gazed at her tenderly. “May I introduce Sir Andrew, Mr Albert.”

  Andrew offered his hand. “Mr Albert, I’m glad to meet you.” Andrew watched Lady Phelips lay her hand gently on Mr Albert’s arm, who immediately placed his hand tenderly over hers, giving it a slight squeeze.

  “Lionel, Sir Andrew serves in Parliament with my brother, Sir George.”

  Andrew was not immune to the tenderness; these two showed each other. He remembered hearing that Sir George’s sister, Lady Phelips, had seen her share of heartache in her youth and had chosen not to marry. She had moved into her brother’s household when his wife died and taken over the care of Lady Abigale.

  Lady Phelips leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice. “Sir Andrew, I am told we have you to thank for keeping Lady Abigale out of mischief and protecting her reputation.” Lady Phelips smiled. “Her father and I are very grateful.”

  What could he say to this kind lady who, apparently, loved her niece deeply? He nodded, looking towards Lady Abigale. Her back was turned to him while she continued to visit with her friends. Her head bent slightly as she listened; soft yellow curls fell over her creamy neck. Turning back, Lady Phelips watched him observe her niece. A slow smile played about her lips while she turned her attention back to Mr Albert.

  Mrs Notley announced dinner and led the group into the dining room, halting his thoughts. Although Mrs Notley said dinner would be informal, she had put place cards by their places. “We are one gentleman short, but I think the seating arrangement has worked.” Mrs Notley preceded them into the dining room.

  Andrew found himself seated on Mrs Notley’s right, with Lady Abigale next to him, followed by Mr Dalton. Abby’s aunt sat across from him on Mrs Notley’s left, with Mr Albert next to her and Miss Isabella next to him, facing her brother at the end of th
e table. It was all in keeping with their rank. Andrew was glad the small table allowed them to join in each other’s conversations.

  The two footmen brought in the first course of soup, serving their mistress first as they made their way down each side table. “Helena, I have not seen your niece, Joanne,” Lady Abigale’s aunt commented.

  Mrs Notley answered, “Yes, she is visiting with her friend Lady Sophia Moore and her mother. Since we will be leaving the day after tomorrow, she wanted to spend time with them before we leave for Bristol. She will be back with us tomorrow evening.”

  “I’m so glad.” Lady Phelips paused, her soup spoon above her bowl. “We should be able to see her, then, before you leave.”

  Sir Andrew ate his soup as he listened to Mr Dalton engage Lady Abigale’s attention to his right. It was apparent Mr Dalton was interested in Lady Abigale, but Andrew wondered at his suitability as a husband. Andrew wasn’t well acquainted with him.

  Lady Abigale leaned over, whispering, “Sir Andrew, you’re quiet this evening.”

  His wine glass was halfway to his lips before he slowly lowered it back to the table, giving him time to contemplate his answer to her question. He turned and observed Mr Dalton, who was talking to his sister across the table. He lowered his voice. “I am listening and observing whether Mr Dalton is a suitable candidate.”

  Lady Abigale’s eyes brightened. “And what have you decided?”

  “I haven’t.” He raised his wine glass and took a drink. “I will give you my report when I know.”

  “I look forward to your opinion,” Lady Abigale remarked as she took a bite of her meat. Her eyes softened when they landed on her aunt across the table.

  Andrew followed her direction. Her aunt leaned into Mr Albert as he talked into her ear. Lady Abigale sighed before her attention was pulled away by Mr Dalton.

  As the meal progressed, Andrew continued to observe Lady Phelips and Mr Albert, as they were seated directly in front of him. It appeared they were very much in love, and if they were not, they soon would be. Would Mr Albert come up to scratch and ask for Lady Phelips’ hand in marriage at this late age? And would she accept him? He wondered how it would affect Abby.