by Bree Wolf
“You’re referring to Lord Chadwick, are you not?” Abigail asked, feeling herself caught up in the story.
Lord Amberly nodded.
“So, you were able to dissuade her from her plan,” she concluded, relieved for Winifred’s sake. “They truly are a good match. I cannot imagine her with anyone else.”
“Neither could I.”
“Then how did you manage?” Abigail asked, somewhat surprised that he had a similarly calculating mind. “How did you sway her?”
Lord Amberly chuckled, “In order for me to have a say in her choice, I had to promise her a say in mine.”
Again, Abigail’s eyes widened until she stared at him, a deep smile on her face as she realised his predicament.
“Not my finest moment,” he assured her. “Still, what was I to do? I could not in good conscience allow her to marry one of those mind-numbingly boring gentlemen because she could not admit to herself that she was in love.”
Abigail felt her heart warm. “You love her very much.”
“I do.” A soft smile came to Lord Amberly’s face. “She’s my sister. As much as I want to throttle her sometimes, my happiness is irrevocably tied to hers.”
Seeing the devotion in his dark brown eyes, Abigail sighed. Never had she known the love of a brother or sister. After losing her mother before ever having a chance to know her, her father had been her whole world. Until, he, too, had been taken from her.
“Are you all right?” Lord Amberly asked, the smile gone from his face, replaced by honest concern.
Abigail nodded, doing her utmost to blink back the tears that threatened.
“Do you…have any siblings?” he asked carefully, possibly suspecting a recent loss in her family. Had Winifred not told him?
Abigail shook her head. “My mother died in childbirth, and my father…a few weeks past.”
At her revelation, Lord Amberly’s eyes widened before utter sadness overtook his face. “That’s why you came here? To stay with your grandfather?”
Abigail nodded, not knowing what to say. How had they gotten to this sorrowful topic? Would he leave now? Uncomfortable with a weeping female?
Closing her eyes for a moment, Abigail realised that she did not want him to go. Strangely enough, she found herself enjoying his company. Like his sister, he was one of only a few rare individuals who had managed to see her. Her true self. And as hard as she had worked to perfect her act, Abigail did not wish to live in the shadows any longer, hiding who she truly was.
“Our parents passed on about five years ago,” Lord Amberly said into the silence. “Did my sister tell you that?”
Abigail nodded, relieved when he did not rise to leave. “She did. She said you left England after it happened, travelling the world.”
Lord Amberly nodded. “We needed to get away. Everything around us only reminded us of our parents, of a past we had shared and a future that would forever be different.” He sighed, “We needed a distraction, something to focus on.” His gaze sought hers. “But we still had each other.”
Abigail swallowed, “I have my aunt. She’s wonderful.”
“You care for her greatly.”
Abigail nodded. “And my grandfather. He likes to make people think he is cold-hearted, but…he has suffered his share of losses as well. I suppose if there is no one else to live for, it hardens your heart.”
Lord Amberly nodded. “Opening your heart to someone means the possibility of a new loss.”
“Perhaps that was part of the reason why Winifred refused to acknowledge her feelings,” Abigail suggested. “Perhaps she was simply afraid it would hurt more if she admitted how she felt.”
Remembering the last time she had spoken to her friend−was she truly her friend?−Abigail could not help but address her doubts. “She said that…we would suit each other,” she admitted, lifting her gaze to meet Lord Amberly’s. “She said that was the reason she introduced us. Do you believe that is true?”
Lord Amberly grinned. “That we suit each other?”
“No, that that was her reason for introducing us.”
Lord Amberly’s gaze narrowed, a calculating look coming to his eyes. “You think she introduced us because she wanted to see me well settled? Because of your dowry? Your grandfather’s name and title?”
Abigail drew in a deep breath. “She was the only one who tried to be my friend, and the moment I trusted her…”
“You felt betrayed.”
Abigail nodded, her gaze shifting over Lord Amberly’s face.
His eyes moved about the room, distant and unseeing, directed inward as though he was searching for the words to express what he wished her to know. Then they settled on hers, and Abigail felt her heart warm and her doubts disappear before he had even uttered a single word.
“Despite her rational mind and the strategic way in which she handles life,” Lord Amberly began, shaking his head at the deep difference between him and his sister, “Winifred loves as fiercely as I do, and she is nothing if not honest. I do not for a second doubt that the reason she gave you was her true motivation for introducing us. Whether she is right in her opinion or not, I do not doubt that she believes it.” He smiled at her. “I know she sees you as her friend, and as that, she would never betray you. I give you my word on that.”
Holding his gaze, Abigail felt a new lightness spread through her body. After weeks of hiding and revealing nothing of herself, it felt utterly liberating to be honest with someone. “Thank you,” she whispered, touched when his eyes lit up with relief. “This means a lot to me.”
He nodded, a teasing grin on his face. “When you’re not hiding behind a mask, your emotions are easy to read.”
“Is that so?” Abigail dared him. “If you know so much, my lord, then tell me how I can rid myself of these mind-numbingly boring suitors−as you call them−without dressing up like a bug and squashing their feet every chance I get? Any brilliant thoughts?”
Lord Amberly laughed freely, “If I had any brilliant thoughts, don’t you think I would have already found a way to circumvent my sister’s meddling? I assure you she is as much a nuisance as your suitors are.”
Enjoying herself as she had not in months, Abigail laughed. “Well, if we are indeed in the same boat, then I suppose we ought to work together to rid ourselves of your sister as well as my suitors. Perhaps together we can find a solution.”
Lord Amberly nodded eagerly. “That sounds like a marvellous plan. I−” His face froze in mid-sentence.
“Are you all right?” Abigail asked, frowning at the odd expression on his face.
Then his face split into a smile, and he slapped his hand on his knee in triumph. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, and his eyes settled on hers with a new sense of purpose. “What do you say we enter into a little pact of our own?” Abigail’s gaze narrowed. “Now, don’t look so suspicious! I assure you my intentions are most honourable…at least as far as our shared goal is concerned.”
Suppressing a grin, Abigail said, “I’m not certain I dare ask what this pact encompasses.”
“Then I shall tell you nonetheless.” Grinning from ear to ear, he leaned forward conspiratorially. “You want to be rid of your suitors, and I want to placate my sister. Well, the solution is quite simple: why not act as though we’re on the brink of getting betrothed?”
Abigail’s mouth fell open, and yet, she felt her blood bubble with excitement as every fibre in her body urged her to agree. Being betrothed to Lord Amberly promised to be a lot of fun, even if it was only an act.
Frowning, Abigail wondered at her thoughts. She did not truly wish to be betrothed to him, did she?
“Are you all right?” Lord Amberly asked, interrupting her thoughts. “You have an odd look on your face.”
Snorting, Abigail shook her head. “If you are to be my betrothed, you ought to work on your compliments. After all, no one will believe us if you speak to me in such a way.”
“Granted,” Lord Amberly conceded. “But o
nly if you promise to be yourself. After all, if London’s gentlemen believe you to be all but betrothed to me, there is no need to walk around looking like a bug, now is there?”
Abigail laughed, “I suppose not. Are you afraid it would ruin your reputation if you were seen with the most awful woman in England?”
“Terrified would be a better word,” he teased, then held out his hand to her. “Do we have a deal?”
Holding his gaze, Abigail could not believe what she was about to do. Still, her right hand shot forward and grasped his before she had any chance of stopping it. “We certainly do, my lord.”
Chapter Twelve − A False Truth
“You look different,” Winifred observed as she looked him up and down before her gaze came to rest on his face and her nose scrunched up as though she was smelling something rotten. “There is something odd about you tonight. You seem strangely cheerful, which−truthfully−makes me worry. After all, you’ve been wearing quite the tortured expression for the past few weeks. What are you hiding?”
Forcing an unobtrusive smile on his face, Griffin looked at his sister. “I have no idea what on earth you’re talking about.”
At his reply, her eyes narrowed, and her nose scrunched up even more. Still, Griffin continued to smile as though he did not have a care in the world, his eyes gliding around the ballroom, wondering when his betrothed−well, almost!−would make her appearance. Perhaps he ought not to have insisted she come as herself. After all, his sister was already suspicious of his odd behaviour as she called it. Would she figure them out if they suddenly got along well? When she saw Miss Abbott in a normal gown that−?
The moment Griffin’s eyes fell on his betrothed as she slowly made her way through the crowd−gaping at her and whispering to one another−he knew that he was doomed.
In more ways than one.
Dressed in a stunning, pale violet dress that made her grey eyes shine silver in the candlelight, she walked beside her aunt, her hair gently swept up onto her head, revealing her graceful neck, simple, yet, elegant silver earrings dangling from her ears.
In short: she was breath-taking!
And everyone saw it, gawking at her open-mouthed.
Not quite unlike him.
Unable to control his own reaction, Griffin knew that his sister was most likely putting two and two together in that very moment. Still, he was unable to tear his gaze from the vision before him to confirm his suspicions.
Her eyes glowed, and he could tell with one look that she enjoyed being herself, letting go of the act she had forced upon herself to defend herself against London’s bachelors. Although Griffin detected a slight tremble in the smile that rested on her beautiful face−for once not stretched into a grimace−her movement spoke of relief, and the moment her silver-grey eyes fell on his, that smile grew deeper.
Griffin found himself draw in a slow breath as a slight shiver ran through his body. Ever since that day at Hyde Park, he had been intrigued by her. However, he had to admit that over the course of only a few days his interest had grown beyond mere curiosity and fascination. There was so much warmth and kindness in her eyes, and yet, they could appear as hard as steel whenever her protective instincts took over, defending those she loved.
Loved as fiercely as he did his own.
Had Winifred known? If he could have torn his eyes away, he would have chanced a look at his sister. Still, deep down, there was no doubt. Somehow his sister had seen something that had eluded him. Had he been blind because his own happiness had been on the line? Had his sister been right? Was a certain amount of objectivity useful when judging oneself as well as a potential match?
“If you’ll excuse me,” Griffin mumbled, finally noticing a bit of a gawking expression on Winifred’s face out of the corner of his eye. Still, he kept walking until his feet had crossed the large room and carried him to her side.
“Good evening, Miss Abbott,” his gaze barely shifted to her aunt, “Lady Bradish.”
“Good evening, my lord,” Miss Abbott greeted him, a teasing grin on her face as she glanced around the room. “It would seem we have everyone’s attention.”
Griffin nodded. “So, it would seem indeed.” He held out his hand to her. “Now or never.”
Chuckling, she glanced at her aunt before sliding her hand through the crook of his arm. “Never is not an option, my lord,” she whispered as he drew her toward the dance floor. “After all, I’ve already revealed my ruse. If you abandon me now, I shall be very cross with you.”
When they stood up for a country dance, he held her gaze and as the steps carried them toward one another whispered, “Should I be afraid?”
Laughter seemed to bubble up in her throat, but she forced an expression of feigned seriousness on her face. “My lord, it would indeed be wise to heed my words. After all, you already are aware of the pain my heel can inflict, are you not?”
“Is this a threat?” he chuckled.
Shrugging her shoulders, she let her gaze drift heavenward. “A lady doesn’t utter threats.” A honey-sweet smile came to her lips as her eyes returned to his. “A lady merely retaliates.”
Laughing, Griffin almost lost his step, “I shall consider myself warned.”
Aware that all eyes rested on them, they finished their dance before taking a turn about the room. Griffin offered her a refreshment, and they continued to talk. Mostly in hushed whispers as they did not wish to be overheard, but also because it gave the impression of a more intimate relationship. After all, they had a charade to play.
And to play it believably.
Still, Griffin could not deny that he was enjoying himself. More so than he had in a long time, and for a moment, he wondered if he would truly mind being betrothed to Miss Abbott for real.
***
Throughout the evening, Abigail was here and there asked to dance by a gentleman other than her fake fiancé. Although she felt no inclination to accept them, she did nonetheless for it was part of their plan.
As she twirled around the room on Lord Carlway’s arm, Abigail did her best to portray a soon-to-be betrothed woman. More so, a woman swept off her feet.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lord Carlway asked, a luminous smile on his face that she had never seen once before when their paths had crossed.
“Tremendously,” Abigail gushed. “It certainly is a beautiful evening, and Lord Amberly was quite the proficient dancer. I’ve rarely danced with a man who knew how to lead as well as he.”
The light in Lord Carlway’s eyes dimmed. “You look stunning tonight,” he tried to change the subject.
However, Abigail could not allow that to happen. “That is very kind of you, my lord. In fact, Lord Amberly was the one to suggest I purchase a gown of this colour. He said violet would look lovely on me. Do you agree?”
“I certainly do,” Lord Carlway bit out through clenched teeth.
Abigail smiled her best and utterly fake smile. “I shall speak to him of your kind words. He is such an attentive gentleman, and his return to London has greatly improved society’s charm, would you not agree?”
Lord Carlway mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and when their dance ended took his leave with a few polite words. It would seem he had gotten the message.
“The man looked quite miserable,” Lord Amberly observed as she returned to his side. “What on earth did you say to him?”
Abigail shrugged. “I sang your praises, of course. Only if they believe me to be quite thoroughly swept off my feet will they leave me alone, don’t you agree?”
For a moment his gaze lingered on hers, and he inhaled an agonisingly slow breath before nodding his head in agreement. “I cannot fault your reasoning,” he all but whispered, and Abigail could not help the slight shiver that ran down her spine. It would seem their charade was not leaving her unaffected.
“If you’ll excuse me, my lord,” Abigail said, unable to bear the weight of his stare a moment longer, “I shall see if my aunt needs anyth
ing.”
He nodded, his gaze holding hers until she turned away.
Inhaling a deep breath, Abigail rushed away, feeling her cheeks warm with the intensity of the moment they’d shared. A mere few days ago, he had been a stranger, and now, it appeared he knew her like no other. How had this happened?
Exchanging a few quick words with her aunt, who unfortunately urged her back to Lord Amberly’s side, Abigail breathed a small sigh of relief when Lord Tennington stepped into her way, asking for the next dance.
As he led her onto the dance floor, Abigail noticed her fake fiancé approach from the other side, a golden-haired beauty on his arm. To Abigail’s great dismay, her insides tightened and a sudden urge to claim him as hers rushed through her being.
Shaking her head, she swallowed. Where had these thoughts come from? After all, this was only a charade.
Trying to focus her mind, Abigail smiled at Lord Tennington. Still, her thoughts continued to drift back to the man down the line, smiling at the golden-haired beauty.
When Lord Tennington addressed her, Abigail reminded herself of her part of the plan and fell back into her role of the adoring betrothed. As before, her utter admiration of another man did the trick, and as soon as the dance ended, Lord Tennington rushed off the dance floor.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Abigail let her gaze travel over the room, searching for her aunt. Perhaps it was time to head home. After all, her feet were beginning to hurt.
“May I have this dance?” an all too familiar voice asked from behind her, sending an equally familiar shiver down her back. Abigail drew in a steadying breath before she turned and met his dark brown eyes.
Lord Amberly’s gaze held her in place as he offered her his hand.
Slipping her own into his, Abigail almost flinched as the first notes of a waltz began to play and Lord Amberly stepped toward her, his dark gaze still holding her immobile, and slid his hand onto her back.