by Gayle Buck
Mr. Farnham attempted a sneer. “Pretty talking, sir! If I was killed, you would have to flee the country.”
Mr. Crocker’s smile broadened, but there was no warmth or pity in his eyes. “There are ways to accomplish a man’s . . . disappearance without showing one’s hand, Farnham. Remember that.”
For an instant longer Mr. Farnham measured glances with Mr. Crocker. Then his eyes wavered and shifted away. He left the parlor, the crowd of spectators at the doorway melting away before him as though from a leper.
Lord Darlington looked quickly around, some instinct warning him of his enemy’s retreat. He tucked Abby into his side, his arm tight about her waist. He stared at Mr. Crocker, his brows drawn together. His expression was not friendly. “You’ve sped him on his way, have you? I believe you interfere in my business, sir. I haven’t yet finished with Farnham.”
Mr. Crocker sauntered farther into the room and stopped by the table. “You’ll thank me one day, for I suspect you would not wish to spend your days exiled from England for murder.” He spied the firearm and picked it up, his expression one of astonishment. “I say, this is my dueling pistol! What the devil!”
Abby gave a shaky laugh. “I was afraid of Mr. Farnham, Peter, so I brought it with me. I wasn’t very good with it, I fear.”
Her brother-in-law shot a keen look at her as he slipped the pistol into the pocket of his greatcoat. “Good enough, I’d say.”
“Abby! Did that scoundrel hurt you?” Lord Darlington’s fingers bit into her shoulders as he swung her round to face him. His eyes were hard and bright.
Abby shook her head quickly. “No, I stopped him. After the chaise was wrecked and he forced me to this inn, I knew I had to do something.” She smiled at his anxious face and reached up to softly caress his cheek. “I am so very glad you found me, my lord.”
“Bethany brought me that damnable letter you sent. I set out at once,” said Lord Darlington. He folded her back into his arms and breathed, “I was so frightened for you, my darling.”
Abby sighed deeply, happily. Then she recalled something and lifted her head from his lordship’s shoulder. Rather defiantly she said, “Peter, I have made up my mind. I am not marrying Lord Fielding. I am marrying Lord Darlington, and nothing you or Melissa say will change that!”
“Of course you are, Abby,” said Mr. Crocker mildly. “Now let us quit this place. I feel as though I was one of a circus act.”
Lord Darlington laughed, ruefully and with the release of relief. “I couldn’t agree with you more, dear sir.”
Abby was astonished. She stared at her brother-in-law even as Lord Darlington was leading her out of the room. “Peter, do you perfectly understand?” she asked anxiously.
“You are going to marry Lord Darlington,” said Mr. Crocker, nodding, keeping pace with them down the stairs. “But don’t you think you might allow the fellow to propose in form first?”
Abby stared, blushed. Then she glanced swiftly at the marquess, who was possessively holding her elbow. “Do you still wish to marry me?” she asked shyly, a little breathlessly, as they emerged from the inn.
Lord Darlington met her gaze, his own alight with laughter and tenderness. “My very dear Miss Fairchilde! I am only too happy to be of such service, my darling!”
“Well!” Abby allowed herself to be lifted into the phaeton onto the seat. “All it took was a little resolution, after all, to get what I had wanted all along!”
Other Books by Gayle Buck
The Righteous Rakehell
Mutual Consent
Willowswood Match
The Demon Rake
Love’s Masquerade
The Fleeing Heiress
Cassandra’s Deception
Belle’s Beau
Magnificent Match
Honor Beseiged
Lady Althea’s Bargain
Love For Lucinda
Frederica’s Folly
Chester Charade
Cupid’s Choice
Lord Darlington’s Darling
A Chance Encounter
The Waltzing Widow
Tempting Sarah
Lord John’s Lady
Lord Rathbone’s Flirt
The Desperate Viscount
Hearts Betrayed
The Hidden Heart
Miss Dower’s Paragon
Lady Cecily’s Scheme
Regency Tales
Old Acquaintances Holybrooke Curse
Christmas Cheer Season of Joy
Regency Tales: Christmas Collection