All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  Turning on her heel, she marched with purpose to her horse. “Jack, I need to leave now. Get Sandy down from there.”

  “What’s wrong, Abs?”

  “I forgot an appointment,” Abby lied quickly, going to her mount’s side. “I need to return to Grandmamma’s.”

  Jack’s gaze darted suspiciously from her to Richard and back again, a frown darkening his eyes. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that!” she snapped back, shoving her foot into the stirrup and trying to pull herself up into the sidesaddle without assistance. Given the drastic size difference between her and her mount, it was an impossible task, to say the least.

  “Here, let me,” Richard whispered softly at her side.

  Her eyes closed as his hands slid around her waist, wavering between misery and desire. She could feel the heat of him behind her, feel his breath tease the hair near her ear. The urge to lean back against him was strong, to lose herself in the shelter of his arms and stay there forever.

  Tears pricked at her eyes. Suddenly, it all seemed so unfair. Here she was, amid the greatest of her lifelong fantasies coming true before her very eyes, and she couldn’t even enjoy it for fear of its end.

  He thought her beautiful. He wanted her.

  It seemed almost cruel now that he hadn’t seen the truth right from the beginning.

  Abby stared down at him as she gathered up her reins. Her tongue was tied with all the things she wanted to say to him.

  Bloody hell. She jerked the horse about, applying her crop to the mare’s flanks.

  “Goodbye, Richard.”

  * * *

  Goodbye, Richard.

  There it was again, delivered with the same finality that her farewell had been last night. What was going on here, he wondered as she cantered away. Something must be amiss. Either that, or Abby had become a devilish minx determined to toy with her prey.

  “What was that all about?” Jack growled as he returned to his mount with Sandy close at his heels.

  “You tell me.” He shook his head in true confusion. “I don’t recall Abby running so hot and cold in the past.”

  “Ye must have said something to upset her,” Jack accused with brotherly defense. “Ye dinnae try to kiss her again, did ye?”

  “Of course not.” He offered the denial knowing he might have done just that if the opportunity had presented itself. “We were just talking about years past. She was laughing, enjoying the conversation. Then…that.” He jerked his thumb at Abby’s retreating back as he swung a leg over his own mount’s back. “I don’t understand her at all. One minute she’ll be the Abby I once knew and then in a snap, she’s the ice queen.”

  Jack watched his sister’s retreat, Sandy hot on her heels once he was astride. He sighed ruefully. “Since the accident, Abs has never been entirely herself.”

  Confusion washed over Richard. Accident? He’d never heard of anything of the sort. Spurring his horse after Jack, who was in pursuit of his siblings, he wondered at the vague reference and asked as he pulled alongside his friend, “What accident?”

  “When she got trampled by the horse five years ago at Ascot,” Jack frowned at Richard, who frowned back in bewilderment. “Where did you think she got all those scars?”

  Richard felt as if he’d walked into the midst of a Greek comedy where one player knew his lines and the other had no recourse but to improvise his own. A horse had trampled Abby? When? Why had he never heard of it? Scars?

  As they caught up with the younger Merrills who had slowed to a walk, Richard considered Abby as she spoke with her youngest brother. Her spine, stiff and straight, spoke of a deep-seated irritation. Though he’d been in the armies and away for England for most of the past five years, he’d thought he’d been kept abreast of all happenings within his own clan and the Merrills as well. He racked his brain, searching for any mention of such an accident among the hundreds of letters he had received from his family. He couldn’t recall any such news. He had his own measure of irritation at being left unawares, but more than that, his worry for Abby’s well-being took hold.

  “What scars?” Jack glowered at him, but Richard shook his head with true perplexity. “I haven’t a clue to what you’re referring.”

  His friend sighed with a shake of his head. “Granted she does a fine job of covering most of them, but surely you’ve noticed the scar here.” Jack traced a finger down his cheek. “I’ve told her time and again that it’s not so terrible but from the way the fashionable bucks react to it you’d think she’d been set on fire. They gawk and talk when she’s out in Society, so she’s avoided it for years. The attention has made her wary, transformed her from my sister who radiated sunshine to one who lingers in shadows. She thinks it’s all anyone looks at any more. You truly haven’t noticed them, have you?”

  “Not at all,” he responded in all honesty.

  “Of course, you have had other things on your mind.”

  He had, Richard conceded. He worried so over his brother every day that the only thing—or person—who had been able to distract him from it was Abby. She was becoming an obsession in her own right. One that brought him deep guilt for setting aside his worries for Vin even for a few moments.

  With this news, he was once again distracted from his greater purpose for a care of this slip of a lass. Studying her as she rode, he saw it then—not the scars—but the way she kept her head turned away from him just so. He’d thought that it was for nothing more than effect, for the way she peered up at him through her lashes in a sidelong fashion. It had been intriguing before, but now that he knew the truth, it rankled at his nerves.

  Jack was right, she’d changed from the spirited lass he knew. However, since there had still been glimpses of his Abby in the private moments between them the previous night, and this afternoon, he had thought this detachment nothing more than a façade for the sake of society, a role she played. He would never have imagined that the dispassion she had shown at both balls was not society polish but rather a sort of barrier she had erected to keep away the hurt she must surely feel if she’d been shunned as Jack said.

  He hadn’t noticed any negative attention being paid to her and so hadn’t yet seen any evidence to support Jack’s words, but London’s ton had always been superficial. At one point in his life, he’d reveled in the frivolous entertainment and shallow relationships. This, however, was beyond the pale. To think that anyone would think less of a woman like Abby simply because she was lacking in some trivial way was inexcusable.

  “Why had I never heard anything of this accident? I’ve had hundreds of letters over the years, none of this was mentioned.”

  Jack shrugged. “I love my sister. I wanted to protect her. Moira and I deliberately went to great lengths to keep the incident from everyone so that Abby might have time to heal and come to terms with the results. Moira never even wrote Jace of it, I’d wager.”

  No, she hadn’t, Richard thought. If she had, Jace would have in turn shared it with him as they shared everything. “Francis knew of it.”

  Chuckling wryly, Jack only shrugged again. “What I know, Francis knows. And vice versa. Been that way since we were lads.”

  They neared the Boughton townhome in Belgrave Square just a few streets down from Hyde Park. As they approached, Richard could see Joshua Boughton, Abby’s grandfather, on the front walkway in conversation with another gentleman. It took only moments to recognize the other man as that Aylesbury fellow who had danced with Abby at both the Rosebery ball and her sister’s engagement ball.

  Aylesbury’s face lit with pleasure as he turned and watched them approach. There was one member of the ton at least who did not treat Abby as Jack said most men did, he thought with a growl low in his throat. The marquis was as besotted as any man Richard had ever seen. If Aylesbury felt any sort of revulsion over her mysterious scarring, he hid it very well.

  With Abby ahead of him, he couldn’t read her expression as the marquis waved a greeting, but her body language
, the way she straightened in the saddle bespoke anticipation, if nothing else.

  Richard ground his teeth.

  Then thought he would swallow his tongue when Aylesbury reached up to help Abby dismount. Richard never would have thought that, with three other men present—one her grandfather and one her brother –that any man would take such prolonged pleasure in the act. It seemed an age before her feet were on the ground.

  If Aylesbury had taken a second longer in accomplishing the feat, Richard would have been hard put not to break them up. What was Jack thinking, letting Aylesbury’s hands linger so on his sister? On his favorite sister?

  “Harry,” Abby greeted her beau. “What brings you out?”

  “I thought to see if might be up for a ride in the park, but it appears I am too late.”

  The marquis hadn’t yet completely released Abby, Richard noticed. One hand remained low on her back while the other held her hand tightly. he turned a glare upon Jack who just stared back at him with a grimace as they dismounted.

  “Grandpapa, you remember Richard MacKintosh, don’t you?”

  “I do.” The older man took Richard’s hand, pumping it affectionately. “How are you, son?”

  In denial of every truth, he responded politely, “Very well, sir. And you?”

  “Good, good.”

  “Harry, I don’t believe you’ve met my brother and Captain MacKintosh yet,” Abby continued before making the introductions.

  Aylesbury shook Jack’s hand before transferring his firm grasp to Richard. Richard gripped the marquis’ hand tightly in return, meeting the fellow’s bright blue eyes. There was a wealth of humor held behind them, and he was hard pressed not to ask what the marquis found to be so bloody amusing.

  “Aylesbury.” Richard found his voice tight and couldn’t help but wonder why meeting Abby’s suitor face to face would rankle him so. He had a thousand memories of Abby, all filled with the love of a brother for a sister. For the lass she had been.

  Of course, what he felt these days was anything but brotherly. Though he did feel a certain need to take her over his knee for her foolish worries over something well beyond her control.

  “Captain,” Aylesbury returned pleasantly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “I cannot say the same.”

  “I find that very interesting. I…”

  “Harry, enough,” Abby cut in. She kept her gaze averted still from Richard, but not from Aylesbury. It irritated him all the more that Abby might trust the marquis with certain truths that she hadn’t deemed fit to share with him, a lifelong friend, as yet. “Why don’t you just go home?”

  A sharp glance told Richard that this statement was directed at Aylesbury, not himself. Even in the face of such a rebuke, the marquis looked on the verge of laughter. Bloody hell! Was the man never serious?

  “But, my love, it’s such a long walk home,” Aylesbury argued plaintively, though the words held more teasing than whining.

  “Oh, please,” Abby rolled her eyes. “Go. I will see you tonight.”

  “Oh, very well.” The marquis sighed and bowed slightly to Lord Boughton, Jack and even Sandy before turning to Richard. “Captain. A pleasure.”

  Richard almost couldn’t restrain his snort of disbelief, and the marquis must have noticed, because he turned away with a chuckle and ambled slowly to the townhouse just left of the Boughton’s and opened the door. At the entrance, he turned with a jaunty wave and went inside.

  Chapter 19

  Women are meant to be love, not to be understood.

  ~ Oscar Wilde from Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime and Other Stories

  “He lives next door?” Jack asked, sparing Richard the need to voice his own incredulity. “Isn’t that convenient?”

  Again, Jack’s sarcasm echoed his own. How much access did the marquis have with Abby living just next door to him? How long had they been courting? He turned those thoughts over in his mind. Abby seemed very comfortable and affectionate with the marquis. Too comfortable, to his mind. Suddenly he recalled her saying to Jack the previous night that her father had brought his daughters—all his daughters—to London to marry them off.

  How close was Haddington to accomplishing that feat with Abby?

  Richard mentally willed Jack to ask the question but was disappointed. If his friend held the same measure of curiosity on the subject as he did, he either felt disinclined to voice it or had already gotten an answer.

  Restraining the urge to ask himself, he said instead, “I thought you said your father had gotten a townhouse on Mount Street?”

  Again, Abby glanced across in a sidelong fashion. “I had Jack meet us here so that father wouldn’t know that Sandy and I were meeting him. I imagine you need to be on your way, so we won’t keep you.”

  “I’m sure you’re in a hurry as well.”

  Abby looked at him blankly.

  “For your appointment,” Richard added and earned a glower.

  “Yes, for my appointment.” She turned away, clearly intending to leave him standing on the street.

  Little coward, he thought, torn between the irritation that Aylesbury fellow had infested him with and the more solicitous need to set things straight with Abby, to assure her that a few little scars wouldn’t change a thing.

  “You boys are welcome to stay for tea,” her grandfather offered politely.

  Abby spun on her heel. “I’m sure Richard’s in a rush, Grandpapa.”

  “Not at all.” He leveled a stare at her, daring her to meet his gaze. For a moment, she did. Her eyes flashing with irritation before she turned that glare on her older brother who just shrugged.

  With a huff, she shook her head and stalked into the house with Sandy on her heels. Her tight “Do whatever you like” offering no encouragement to stay.

  “I’m not sure what’s gotten into that girl,” Boughton said by way of apology. “You are welcome to join us.”

  “Thank you, sir, but it seems we’ve been duly dismissed,” Jack said and turned to Richard. “Should we return to Cavendish Square then?”

  Richard shook his head. If Abby wanted to be stubborn, he could show her a thing or two about it. “You go on, Jack. I feel the need to give your sister a bit of a talking to.”

  “Can I watch?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  * * *

  Jack looked through the townhouse’s open door to see his sister racing up the stairs of the central foyer. It didn’t take a fool to see that Abby was enamored beyond friendship with Richard, though it was harder to gauge whether Richard’s concern as more fraternal than otherwise.

  Did it matter?

  He trusted Richard, and perhaps his friend might have more success with Abby on this issue than he’d had thus far. Or perhaps it would just serve to upset his sister more. Jack considered Richard’s request for a moment, weighing the merits for and against, but in the end shook his head. Besides, he was still curious about what had happened in the park and thought to get his own answers.

  “Nay, let me.”

  A protest hovered on Richard’s lips, but he relented with a tight nod and mounted, kicking his horse into action and leaving Jack with Lord Boughton.

  “Do you mind, sir?”

  “Not at all,” the older man smiled grimly. “I think this has been a long time coming.”

  Drawing a deep breath for both patience and courage—his sister did have a fierce enough temper to cower the bravest of men—Jack strode into the house and up the stairs after his sister.

  Bloody hell, but he never should have stayed away so long! Jack had no idea how the entire situation had gotten so far out of hand. What was he to do, though, when he wasn’t welcome in his childhood home and had to sneak about like a thief in the night just to visit his sister?

  It was all his father’s fault! Not only for being a stubborn fool in regard to Jack but for not giving Abby the time she needed after the accident to heal before thrusting her back into Society. Or perhaps th
e blame lay more rightfully in Oona’s lap.

  Oona had long been jealous of Abby’s angelic beauty. Abby, only twelve when Oona had descended upon the clan, might have been too young to notice, but Jack had seen Oona’s calculating gaze as she contemplated having a young stepdaughter just making her first steps into womanhood.

  It had been a moment from a fairy tale but, rather being the heroic princess, Oona was the wicked stepmother, the evil queen who looked in the mirror only to have it tell her that there was another fairer than she. Like that stepmother, in her spite, Oona had remedied the situation by ridding herself of the competition. No huntsman to take her heart, but banishment as far from Oona as she’d been able to manage.

  Then had come the accident. Jack hadn’t been there to see Oona’s reaction to the news, but he imagined a spiteful gleam in her eye at the thought of seeing Abby’s beauty diminished, for less than six months after the accident, Abby had been ordered home to be under her family’s ‘loving’ care.

  Then to make matters even worse, Oona had forced Abby into attending her Christmas Ball. In allowing it, his father—so eager to see Abby wed and gain her inheritance—had become as culpable as his wife for the results.

  The letter he had received from his sister after the event had been dappled with dried tears, telling of her anguish even more than her words. There had been stares and whispers, and some outright gasps from some of the guests over her half-healed scarring. The superficial fops his father invited to meet her and court her hadn’t been able to stop staring, even after learning of the large purse a marriage with her would bring. By forcing Abygail’s hand with that public humiliation, Haddington destroyed what little remaining affection she might have had for her father.

  Abygail had fled the assembly and flatly refused to go out into society again. The damage, however, had been done.

  She’d never been able to move beyond that moment. Jack knew that she believed no man would ever be able to look at her and love her, only her, and not her money. Though he didn’t see her often, Jack knew she was but a shadow of his feisty sister as he had just told Richard. Abby worried constantly over the reactions of others, donning that aloof façade to hide her fears and hurt from the world.