All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  For a moment, fate did smile, probably in amusement, and Miss Stapleton nodded with self-satisfaction, believing her lecture had been heard and digested.

  “Very well, Lady Abygail, be on your way…Where were you off to?”

  “Why, the music room for my dance class.”

  Sweet and innocent, so easy to believe from Abby. A small, angelic looking girl.

  “Of course.” The headmistress responded with a smile of her own but added a warning. “But remember, you’ve been forbidden to speak to Lady Moira for the remainder of the week.”

  “Why, Miss Stapleton, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  The woman smiled again and waved her away. Her own stocky body disappeared around the corner before Abby again hitched up her skirts and darted down the rest of the corridor into Moira MacKenzie’s room and forbidden presence.

  Chapter 3

  To love and win is the best thing;

  to love and lose, the next best.

  ~ Wm Makepeace Thackery

  A half hour after sending Abby out to secure their horses, Moira had completed her own task and was back in her room pacing with a tearing vengeance as she waited. What was taking her so long? They needed to move. Now!

  If Vin were to leave…!

  Her heart clenched and she pressed a fist to the offended area. She’d been waiting years to grow up enough to catch Vincent MacKintosh’s attention, to have him see her as more than a friend—or worse, a child! The waiting had just begun to pay off. Why this past Christmas when they’d gone to Glen Cairn to visit the MacKintosh family, she’d caught him looking down at her low-cut neckline with surprise, and perhaps even a touch of appreciation.

  She might only be seventeen years old, but Vincent was twenty-two and man enough to welcome an impressive bosom. She had that in spades and considered it but the first step in their transformation from friends to lovers.

  But none of that was going to matter if Abby did not come, and soon.

  Abby finally burst into the room then, flushed and out of breath and Moira pulled her co-conspirator in, quickly shutting the door. “What took you so long?”

  “Got nabbed by Stapleton,” Abby explained catching her breath.

  “Did you get the horses?”

  “After a fashion,” Abby grinned. “Eve and Kitty are going to get them for us.”

  “But…” Moira started to protest, then sucked in a breath. “Oh, good thinking.”

  She shared a grin with her friend. Charlie, the stable lad, had an enormous crush on Eve…and Kitty. In truth, he never knew which of the pair was which. Though the sisters were a year apart in age, they looked enough alike to be twins.

  “That’s bloody brilliant really. Poor Charlie will never know what hit him and he’d never deny them a thing. Where are we to meet up then?”

  “Behind the washhouse as soon as we can get there.” Abby’s wicked grin was as wide as Moira’s. Deviltry was often an extremely contagious condition. “How are we going to track down the lads? We don’t know where they’re staying.”

  “I know. We’ll just have to search for them at the races.”

  “Ascot?” Abby froze and stared at her friend. “Moira MacKenzie, you must be mad! We can’t go to the race track.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Ladies of quality do not go to a public horse race unescorted,” Abby said slowly as if her friend were a child. “Even if it is Ladies’ Day at Ascot.”

  Moira smirked and shrugged off the bulky dressing gown she’d been wearing to show off her disguise hidden underneath. A young gentleman’s suit of clothes. “We’re not ladies; we’re fine young gentlemen out for a day of leisure.” She bowed formally.

  Abby only snorted. “No one would ever believe you to be a man.”

  Indeed, her friend possessed an enviable hourglass figure that was still very obvious beneath the male garb.

  Moira looked down at her bosom and shrugged. “I’ll work on that while you get changed.” She crossed the room, dropping her knees by the bed. After a second of burrowing, she emerged from beneath it, tossing a bundle of clothes at her.

  She caught it reflexively. “Where did you find clothes that would fit me?”

  “Well, all right then, I’m a fine young gentleman and you’re my groom.” Moira winced with an apologetic smile and a shrug. “Sorry. It was all I could find.”

  Abby sighed. There was nothing for it. Against all odds, she’d simply stopped growing when she was twelve. She’d always been a small child, fragile in appearance, but now at seventeen, it seemed she’d never grow any taller than her four feet and nine inches. She was no taller than a ten-year-old boy, plus she was pale and thin as well. Most assumed her a child at first glance.

  Unfortunately, Richard MacKintosh had never been any different.

  Even now, he continued to see her as a little girl, and who could blame him? But his assumption had allowed her time alone with him that few young ladies of quality might hope for with any gentleman. Each time they met during their summers or on holiday, he would often leave the older lads to take her fishing or golfing with him. They would climb trees or ride much as he might with any of his younger siblings. Abby was sure he viewed her much as he did his wee sister, Fiona. He most likely thought they were of an age, as well…and Fiona was but ten-years-old.

  She could only hope that one day she might develop enough of a womanly physique to change that friendship to attraction. It was working for Moira; it might work for her.

  Abby looked down at her thin body with a grimace. Someday. Maybe.

  Unfulfilled dreams notwithstanding, she considered Richard the most considerate of men. He’d do anything for family, but like any young man, there was a wild side to him, and it seemed that aspect was about to get lured into making what Abby was sure was a big mistake.

  This whole plan of Moira’s might be an even bigger one. Ascot…

  She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to do this. While she was always up for a spot of fun, this seemed far more risky than their usual shenanigans. It was a completely outrageous idea to even consider and so much like Moira. They would surely be caught. That thought would not leave her, and following so closely behind her last lecture, the magnitude of the anticipated punishment was daunting.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t...”

  “Think of Richard, Abby.” Moira responded as she wrapped a cloth to bind her breasts then another around her waist to thicken it. “Are you just going to let him walk out of your life without a fight?”

  That was the clincher. There was no way on earth Abby was going to miss a chance to see her Richard. The thought spurred her into motion, and she toed off her shoes.

  “Help me with my laces then. We need to hurry.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying!”

  * * *

  Cup Day at Ascot

  8 June 1882

  Ascot. It was the most popular horse race in England. So popular Parliament adjourned so its members might attend the three-day event. Open to all, it was a race day that drew eager spectators from every class. It could and did attract the worst elements of society as well as the most elite. It was a stomping ground for rogues, swindlers and thieves. Pickpockets by the dozen fanned the crowds, searching for their next mark. Dukes and princes rubbed elbows with them all.

  Trying to keep up with Moira’s exaggerated swagger, Abby could tell her friend was having the time of her life. With her voluptuous figure disguised beneath a fine grey morning suit complete with a diamond stickpin, top hat, and walking stick that she must have pinched from her brother long ago, her friend was enjoying the freedom of walking among the prospective buyers at the bidding arena. She fancied the idea that she appeared to be no more than a wealthy, young gentleman out for a bit of adventure. To make the show worth performing, she bowed jauntily to all the females in the crowd, touching the brim of her tall hat to each of them. She obviously considered herself terribly amusing.

  Moira app
roached a refreshment stall, and with a wink and a smile, cockily took a pint of ale from the woman running the stand. Clearly, her sense of adventure had overcome her good sense. If she kept strutting that way, the axe was going to fall for certain. They might not have been discovered…yet, but surely, their absence had been noted at this point.

  “At least try to look like a man, won’t you?” she hissed in admonishment. “You’re going to give us away.”

  “But I’m having the time of my life!”

  “We are not here to have the time of our lives.”

  “When did you become such a worry wart, Abby?”

  “I’m not. I’d simply rather find the lads before we get caught.”

  Moira only laughed merrily.

  Yes, her friend was as bold and brash as ever. She had no fear of the consequences and even less trepidation over upsetting a mere headmistress at an English boarding school, no matter how exclusive it might be. Abby supposed that’s how it was when one’s father and grandfather held two of the most ancient titles in Scotland. Plus, both men spoiled Moira terribly. Abby’s father might be Earl of Haddington, but he was a strict and domineering parent. Once word reached him of this latest exploit, his wrath would be hers and hers alone to bear.

  Abby wrinkled her nose at the thought while Moira swept a bow to a pair of doxies as they sashayed by with a giggle. She couldn’t stop her snort of disbelief. The people in the crowded mews were fools if they couldn’t see through Moira’s costume. She couldn’t have looked less like a man if she wanted to.

  Unlike herself.

  She glanced down at her own suit of clothes with a wince. They were probably young Charlie’s Sunday best. A dark pair of trousers, white shirt, and grey jacket. Her feet rattled about loosely in the oversized boots. The only criticism she was likely to receive was that she looked more a boy than a man. From the neck down anyway.

  Self-consciously, Abby pulled her hat lower to shadow her face. She knew anyone looking straight at her would recognize her as a woman straight away.

  Richard had once said she looked like an angel.

  Richard. He was the only thing that mattered…her sole reason for being here. She needed to focus on that alone. Her head swiveled left and right as her eager eyes scanned the crowd for a glimpse of him. A glimpse that would be worth the risk of discovery. Even in the cool morning air, the very thought of his name warmed her, and she began to relax. There wasn’t a time of her life that she cared to remember when she hadn’t loved Richard MacKintosh.

  At one point long past, their fathers had all been friends. Hers, Moira’s, and Richard’s. The future earls of Haddington, Seaforth, and Glenrothes had gone to school together at St. Andrew’s University and been fast friends, though Abby couldn’t imagine her grouchy father ever being pleasant or free-spirited enough to be friends with such nice men as Jaime MacKenzie and Alexander MacKintosh. However, it had begun, that friendship had led to the three families summering together at the estate of one or the other’s each year. She’d known the MacKenzie’s and the MacKintosh’s all her life.

  In truth, Abby hadn’t really paid the lads much attention in the beginning. She had Moira and then her own two sisters to keep her company. However, when they were about eight years old, Moira had decided she was going to marry Vincent MacKintosh, simple as that. From that point on, Abby ended up trailing the lads about for the better part of each summer just so Moira could follow Vin.

  It wasn’t until Richard had picked her up after that nasty fall from a tree that she finally truly noticed him and developed her first crush. A year later, he and his older brother, Francis, had come to Glen Sannox House to attend her mother’s funeral. Though he’d only just lost his own mother, Richard had taken the time to give comfort Abby in her grief. Crush became infatuation. She’d fallen head over heels and that love had grown ever since.

  Since being sent down to boarding school five years before, she’d never returned to Glen Sannox House or Scotland, preferring to avoid her new stepmother. Instead, she’d stayed with her grandparents during the summer and holidays. Her mother’s parents gave her the affection that her father never had. Her brother would come to visit her there for weeks, and sometimes months, at a time, often bringing one or more of the MacKintosh lads with him.

  At first, her grandparents hadn’t known what to think of a Richard, a young man five years Abby’s senior, taking any interest in her. It bemused them greatly but, in the end, they let them be when it became clear he had no designs upon her person. Throughout those occasional holidays, she followed him with the adoration of a puppy. He’d ruffle her hair affectionately as one would a young child. Of course, she was well aware that a child was exactly how he viewed her. Her small stature and boyish habits often led people to think that way. Abby was quite certain he saw her as a child of no more than nine or ten years. Even now, she barely reached his chest.

  It often bemused Abby that he would continue to age yet he thought she never did. Surely someday Richard would notice she’d grown up right along with everyone else. Surely…

  A beefy shoulder struck hers, jogging Abby from her daydreams and, with the man’s quizzical look, she suddenly became aware that people were starting to take notice of them—the odd pair she and Moira made. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t even been trying to walk like a man. Tugging her hat down and rounding her shoulders in an effort to deter their curiosity, she turned her attention to trying to appear more masculine. It wouldn’t do now that they had made it all the way into Ascot to get nabbed straight away and sent back to the school.

  Chapter 4

  Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo.

  ~ H. G. Wells

  “I see Jace!” Moira said suddenly, jarring Abby from her thoughts. “And, there’s Vin as well. Oh, Abby! Come on, we must go see them and talk them out of this rash impulse of theirs.”

  “I don’t see Richard.” Abby tried to get a peek through the crowd from her low viewpoint.

  “We’ll find him later.” Moira tugged at her arm. “Let’s go before we lose them in the crowd. If we can’t talk them out of joining the army, I at least need to tell Vin that I’ve been in love with him my whole life.”

  It was just like her friend to want to announce something like that so boldly. Abby knew she would never be brave enough to just…

  “There he is!” Abby cried as she spotted Richard in a crowd near the track. Moira grabbed her arm to hold her back as the impulse to rush to him seized her.

  The sight of him after so long was overwhelming. Had it truly been almost a year? Her eyes flowed over him from head to toe, drinking him in before the moment was lost. Just over six feet in height, Richard was more than a full foot taller than she. He was lean and muscular, tanned and beautiful. His hair was so dark that most would call it simply black, but Abby knew better, for really it wasn’t black at all. No, it was brown and red and a dozen shades in between. She knew it could shine in the sun like the deepest mahogany. His eyes were a mossy green. Mysteriously absorbing.

  He was extremely dashing in his charcoal morning suit and top hat, his smile broad. How she’d missed that smile, Abby thought dreamily. One corner of his mouth lifted in a way that seemed purely sensual to female eyes. The dancing of his eyes, the flash of white teeth. The low inviting chuckle that she’d heard so often, if only in her dreams.

  The sky, which had been gray and gloomy all morning, parted. For a moment, the bright sunshine beamed down on Richard as he grinned again, his teeth flashing brightly again his tanned skin. Abby’s hands stole to her cheeks in a thoroughly feminine display. She couldn’t drag her gaze away until her eyes caught the motion of his hand and followed it. He reached out to toy with a long, dark curl that rested against the plentiful expanse of his companion’s bountiful bosom. His knuckles brushing against her bare skin as that sensual smile deepened.

  Finally, Abby focused on the saucy looking young woman Richard directed those seductive skills at. The crowd parted li
ke the Red Sea to provide her the best view of the devastating scene. Her rush of joy withered away as Abby took stock of her competition.

  The woman was everything Abby was not. Tall and dark with an hourglass figure extreme enough to rival Moira’s—the complete antithesis to Abby’s petite, blond fragility. Dressed fashionably yet provocatively, she hummed and cooed at Richard, leaning into him and brushing that plentiful bosom against his arm.

  Then Richard slid an arm about the woman’s slender waist as they turned away and melted into the thickening crowd.

  Abby’s jaw sagged in disbelief as she gasped for breath. Why she was...They were...! She simply couldn’t believe it. Not Richard and that woman! Not her Richard! An emotion such as she never experienced before shook her to the very core.

  Outrage. Pure moral outrage.

  “Let’s go talk to Jace and Vin.” Moira tugged her hand once more.

  “You go on.” Abby shook her head tightly, feeling the righteous anger meld with the jealously rolling in her gut. “I need to have a few words with Richard MacKintosh.”

  “Are you sure…?”

  “Go!” Abby commanded, knowing Moira wanted to see Vin more than anything and watched her friend race away eagerly before turning narrowed eyes on the spot where Richard had disappeared. She wasn’t naïve. Her brother was, after all, one of the most notorious rakes in London and Edinburgh both. She knew how men’s minds worked…or rather, knew what they did most of their thinking with.

  Richard was no angel, to be sure. She knew men needed to experience as much of life as they could before they were ready to settle down. They needed to sow their wild oats freely. But to have those oats sown right in front of her eyes was too much to bear. She needed to follow them and stop them—by means either surreptitious or overt. Abby didn’t care which.