by Gayle Buck
Abby was even less comforted by Lord Fielding’s observations. His lordship had come to pay his respects almost before the breakfast covers were removed. He had apologized for this lapse in protocol by revealing his concern over Abby’s unhappy state.
Mrs. Crocker had kindly allowed him a short private audience with her sister, remarking that she knew she could trust his lordship to exercise all propriety.
Abby had thrown her sister a long-suffering glance, but she had allowed herself to be escorted into the drawing room by Lord Fielding. She supposed that his lordship was going to make an offer in form to her, and steeled herself to hear him out. However, she had underrated Lord Fielding’s sensibilities and his sense of timing.
“I do not hide from you how affected I am by your distress, Miss Fairchilde,” he said seriously, holding her hand and patting it gently. “It was obvious to everyone how things stood. When I think of the tenderness of your feelings, and what you must have felt upon being so ruthlessly cut by Lady Bethany, I am filled with indignation.”
“Indeed, indeed, you must not say such things, my lord,” said Abby. She attempted to remove her hand from his clasp. There was a brief struggle, which she ultimately won. Abby folded her hands tightly in her lap, as much to keep possession of them as an expression of her inner tension. “The fault is mostly mine for the estrangement between myself and Lady Bethany. I don’t wish to talk of it any longer, if you please.”
“As you wish, my dear. I shall say only that perhaps it is just as well the connection is severed. I had grave reservations, ever since that freakish display by Lady Bethany at the soiree, over the wisdom of befriending her,” said Lord Fielding.
Abby eyed his lordship with gathering indignation. “Indeed? What, pray, had you ever to say about it?”
Lord Fielding smiled indulgently and shook his head as he would have at a fractious child. “I think we understand one another too well to spar on that account, Miss Fairchilde!” Always punctual, he glanced at the clock and remarked that he had already sat with her the prescribed quarter hour. “I must not outstay my welcome!”
“No, indeed!” responded Abby at once. She had never in her life been closer to being deliberately rude to another person.
Having received no encouragement from Abby to remain, Lord Fielding took his leave. He said just as he exited the drawing room, “I shall call on you in a few days, when you have had an opportunity for reflection and your spirits are not quite so low. I do not wish to proffer my suit to a young lady who is in a fit of the dismals!” He chuckled at his own witticism and let himself out, saying that he knew his way very well.
Abby sighed, glad that Lord Fielding was gone. The prettily papered walls of the room suddenly seemed oppressive. She decided she had spent enough time indoors. She left the drawing room, intending to go upstairs and inform her maid that she wished to walk in the park. Anything was preferable to staying cooped up inside and moping over the loss of a friend.
Just as she laid her hand on the balustrade of the stairs, the porter opened the front door to Lord Darlington. From her vantage point on the first stair, Abby regarded the marquess with mingled surprise and dismay.
“You need not look at me as though I mean to ring a peal over your head,” he said.
“I never thought you would!” said Abby swiftly, though she colored because she had wondered just for an instant if he had meant to say something. He was Lady Bethany’s brother, after all.
He seemed to read her mind. “I am too used to my sister’s mercurial nature to take her offenses as my own, Miss Fairchilde,” he said dryly. “I came for the purpose of inviting you to go driving with me.” He was dressed in frock coat and breeches and had extra whip points thrust through the buttonhole of his lapel.
Abby was at once convinced that nothing could suit her better. “Only give me ten minutes, my lord, and I will get my hat!”
Leaving a message for her sister and mother, Abby left the town house in Lord Darlington’s company. She was mildly surprised when he dismissed his groom, but she decided if he chose to dispense with the servant, then it was not for her to object. In any event their destination was the park, and she was persuaded that her reputation could take little hurt in driving in such a public place without the chaperonage of maid or groom.
Lord Darlington had chosen to drive his high-perch phaeton, and it was from this elevated position that Abby enjoyed the sights. She breathed in a lungful of warm May air, quite content.
“I apprehend that I stand in some measure a knight-errant,” said Lord Darlington laughingly.
Abby turned her head and smiled at him. Her bonnet was a new straw with an upstanding brim that delightfully framed her face. “I am behaving badly, I fear! I don’t make a habit of dashing out of my sister’s house as though I was in need of succor, I assure you!”
“I don’t suppose you do. However, I met Lord Fielding coming down the front steps, so I am not at all surprised by your subsequent desire to escape,” drawled Lord Darlington.
Abby laughed and shook her head in reproof, more of herself than of him. She could not quite deny the justice of his funning words, however. “Poor Lord Fielding! His lordship means well, I know.”
“But he is a dead bore,” objected Lord Darlington.
“No, how can you say so? A very worthy gentleman, in truth,” said Abby, surprised.
“Does my animosity toward the gentleman surprise you?” asked Lord Darlington.
“A little, yes,” admitted Abby.
Lord Darlington directed his team into the park at a spanking pace. “Perhaps I envy his lordship’s favored position in your affections,” he remarked.
Abby turned startled eyes on her companion. “My lord!”
Lord Darlington drew up his team. With one iron hand holding the reins, he tilted up her chin with the other. “My lord, indeed!” He kissed her swiftly.
Abby drew back, her cheeks flaming. Her heart was doing crazy somersaults and hammering in her chest all at one time. She could scarcely breathe. She told herself shakily that it was the shock, for naturally such liberties had overset her. But, oh, how nice it was! She pressed her hands against her cheeks. “I must be very wicked!”
Lord Darlington laughed in a low, intimate fashion. “That is what you said the first time, my darling!”
Abby shook her head, not certain she had heard him right, and if she had, quite certain that she should object to that particular form of address. “My lord, pray—! You must not!”
“On the contrary, I must. I am making up lost ground with you, ma’am. Lord Fielding may have been the first on the scene, but I trust that I will win your heart in the end!”
She turned to him impulsively, and he caught her gloved hand to his heart. She colored up again at their intimate posture.
“Have you any objection to me paying my addresses, ma’am?” he asked solemnly, almost diffidently.
She shook her head quickly. “None, my lord!” she said with a shy smile.
“I fear I must kiss you again,” he said, and suited action to words.
When he drew away, Abby gave a small breathless laugh. “What if someone should see?” she whispered. “My reputation would be ruined, you know!”
“I made sure to stop in a secluded byway,” said Lord Darlington confidently.
“You are quite, quite shameless, my lord,” said Abby helplessly, yet nonetheless pleased. She had never known anyone like him and was somewhat awed that he was showing such a particular interest in her.
Lord Darlington smiled down at her, a tender light in his brown eyes that made her even more breathless. “I wish you will give Lord Fielding the right-about. I should like to have the field to myself.”
Abby hid her face against his shoulder, not replying. In the first place, she was too inarticulate with happiness; in the second, she could not give Lord Darlington the assurance that he wished. In fact, as his lordship’s off-the-cuff suggestion intruded itself more and more upon her tho
ughts, her blissful state began to dissolve. The very thought of the frightful scene with Lord Fielding, certain to be followed by another with her disappointed and possibly angered relations, was unnerving to her vivid imagination.
Abby righted herself and made an attempt to straighten her bonnet, which had been pushed askew. “My lord, we mustn’t stay long. Someone may come by at any minute,” she said, a tremor in her voice.
“Prosaic of you, Miss Fairchilde.” Lord Darlington did not seem offended and set his team in motion. He glanced at his companion, who was still delightfully flushed. “May I make free of your Christian name, Miss Fairchilde?”
Abby nodded shyly. “If you please, my lord! It is Abigail, but I am called Abby.”
“Abby.” As Lord Darlington drew her name out, it sounded like a caress, and Abby trembled. “And—and yours, my lord?”
Lord Darlington’s smiling expression dimmed. He grimaced. “I make you a present of it, ma’am! It is Sylvan.”
“Sylvan, as in sylvan surroundings, peaceable, lovely,” she said quietly.
He glanced at her, seeming to consider her reaction. “I don’t believe I have ever heard my name uttered in so flattering a manner. I shall treasure the way you say it, Abby.”
A perfect understanding seemingly being reached between them, they chatted of a myriad of pleasant things during the remainder of their drive. It was as Lord Darlington was pulling toward the curb before the town house that he remarked, “Don’t let Lady Bethany tease you. If I know anything about it, she has cried her eyes out and is heartily sorry for whatever passed between you last night.”
Abby bent her head quickly, not wishing him to see the expression in her eyes. She stared down at her clasped hands. “The fault was mine, my lord. And I very much fear that our friendship is at an end.”
“I doubt the fault lies with you, Abby. You do not strike me as being quarrelsome—quite the reverse, in fact—but my sister can be a distempered baggage,” said Lord Darlington coolly.
“My lord!” exclaimed Abby in dismay, looking up at him with widened eyes.
Lord Darlington laughed. “Have I shocked you? I have few illusions about my fellowman, Abby. There are not many whom I consider worthy of trust, a few close friends and acquaintances only. While I have great affection for my sister, I do not allow that to blind me to her faults!”
Abby returned a disjointed answer, unsure how to reply to Lord Darlington’s frank speech. She saw in it as a threat to her own happiness. If he should ever become disillusioned in her, it would be as though the sun had gone out. Of course, the truth was bound to come out sooner or later. It nearly always did, she thought. More than ever, she wished quite passionately that she had not allowed herself to be persuaded by Lady Bethany to act as go-between in that damsel’s intrigues. Undoubtedly it would be ever so much better if Lord Darlington learned of her irresponsibility from her own lips rather than secondhand.
Impulsively, she turned her head to tell him about her dealings with his sister and Mr. Farnham, but at the last instant something stopped her. Abby recognized cowardliness for what it was. She was afraid, so afraid, that Lord Darlington’s burgeoning regard for her was not strong enough to withstand the knowledge she had helped his sister to deceive him. So her confession died before it was born.
“I will not come in, since I have sent my groom home,” said Lord Darlington. “But be assured that I will wait upon the Crockers at no very distant date.”
“I do hope they will smile upon you, my lord,” said Abby anxiously. When he laughed, she realized how infelicitous her statement had been. A smile hovered on her lips as she said wryly, “Oh, dear! That did not sound at all complimentary, did it?”
“Nevertheless, I understand you. Your sister and brother-in-law are completely respectable, while I have a few black marks against me. My departed father’s unsavory reputation for gaming, for instance. They will wish to be assured that his vice does not run through my veins, nor his renowned profligacy with his possessions,” said Lord Darlington. “I feel certain I can lay to rest any such concerns. But even if the Crockers do set their face against me, you forget, my darling, that it is not your sister or brother-in-law who stand as your guardian.”
Abby had felt a twinge of anxiety, but her spirits rose when she considered his observation. “No, indeed! My mother is my guardian, and she likes you very well, I am persuaded.”
“So I trust.” Lord Darlington set her down before the door of the town house and waited until she had gone up the front steps and been let in before he set his team once more into motion.
Chapter Eighteen
It was only natural that Abby’s relations should be curious about her drive with Lord Darlington, since it was a spur-of-the-moment occurrence. Mrs. Crocker expressed herself about the inadvisability of encouraging such informal manners in the marquess, with which sentiment Mrs. Fairchilde agreed.
“I should not like you to be seen as coming, dearest,” said Mrs. Fairchilde gently.
“Oh, no! I shouldn’t like that, either,” said Abby. “Was it really too forward of me to accept his lordship’s invitation as I did?”
“For my part, I don’t see what harm can come out of Lord Darlington taking Abby for a drive in the park,” said Mr. Crocker, giving the matter due consideration. “Mind, I don’t care overmuch for the fellow. He’s dandified and too cold for my taste, but I know of nothing else anyone may have to say against him.”
“You’re a great deal too nice, Peter,” remarked August derisively, sprawled on the sofa, his long hands thrust into his pockets.”
“And what do you know about his lordship, August?” asked Mr. Crocker, amused.
August shrugged. “I think of Lord Darlington well enough.”
“Lord Darlington? I like him,” said Mrs. Paddington firmly. “He’s not one of these milksops, as anyone can plainly see. I have no doubt whatsoever that young man could hold his own in a fight.”
August smiled fondly at his aunt, but did not say anything.
Mr. Crocker looked dubious at the elderly lady’s statement, but he chose not to remark on it. Mrs. Fairchilde was not so backward and reproved her sister, “Priscilla! Why, anyone listening who did not know you would think you preferred to deal with the fringes of society. While I am certain Lord Darlington is not behind in all manly attributes, I would scarcely stigmatize him as a tough!”
“I never said any such thing! If you weren’t so infernally maggoty yourself, Caroline, you would know precisely what I meant,” said Mrs. Paddington.
“I am glad to say I don’t know,” said Mrs. Fairchilde, a spot of color rising in her thin cheeks.
Mrs. Paddington snorted.
Mrs. Crocker ignored the elderly ladies’ skirmishing. “As long as you behaved yourself with propriety, Abby, then I am certain I have nothing to reproach you for.” She was engaged in skinning a peach with a small silver knife and did not look up at her sister.
Abby tried to look innocent. She hoped her relations could not read her mind just then, for she was vividly remembering how Lord Darlington had kissed her. How very improperly she had behaved! But how wonderful that the marquess had actually requested her permission to court her. She hoped her relations would not stand in his lordship’s way. Hesitantly she asked, “Then—then you have no objection to receiving Lord Darlington?”
Mrs. Crocker looked over at Abby in surprise, her brows rising, as she paused in denuding the fruit. “Of course we shall receive the marquess, my dear. What a very odd question, to be sure!”
Mr. Crocker stared hard at his sister-in-law. “It’s my opinion that you’ve formed a passion for the marquess.”
Abby blushed fierily, but she was spared the necessity of replying when her sister laughed.
“Pray don’t be absurd. Peter! Why, how can Lord Darlington compare to Lord Fielding in Abby’s eyes? Oh, in birth the gentlemen are certainly equal, but Lord Fielding is undoubtedly wealthier, and he is punctilious with regard to every
propriety,” said Mrs. Crocker. She glanced at her sister. “Isn’t that so, Abby?”
“Lord Fielding is indeed very worthy,” said Abby quietly. She was unhappily aware that her sister could not see Lord Darlington’s superior qualities. She wondered how she was ever to explain it.
August grimaced. “Oh, yes, very worthy! And a dead bore, too.”
Mr. Crocker started to reply, but his spouse forestalled him. Mrs. Crocker, determined to end a discussion that must naturally be embarrassing for her sister, posed a query to him so that he was diverted into a discussion of plans for a supper ball to be held later that month. Mrs. Fairchilde, equally interested, contributed her mite.
Knowing herself to be forgotten, at least for a few moments, Abby allowed a tiny sigh to escape her. She was surprised when her brother grinned at her, before saying, “Don’t pay us any heed, Abby.”
Mrs. Paddington reached out to pat Abby’s hand and there was a wealth of understanding in her clever, old eyes. In a much lower voice than was usual with her, she said quietly, “Never mind, dear. You’ll discover which of them you like better before you’ve grown much older. And I’ll stand by you whatever decision you make.”
Abby smiled gratefully at her aunt. “Thank you, ma’am!”
Nothing more was said about Lord Darlington or Abby’s unattended drive in the park with him, at least by her family. When Lord Fielding came to call a day or so later, however, he was full of what he called “the incident.”
“I cannot express more strongly my shock at having it disclosed to me that you were seen driving with that fellow alone and unattended,” he said, disapproval fairly dripping from his words.
Abby tried to retain her smiling manner despite the tiny spurt of anger she felt at his lordship’s presumption. “If my relations have not expressed themselves shocked, my lord, I scarcely think it appropriate for you to do so.”