Page 34 of The Baron's Return
Abigail shook her head. “I don’t think that was his reasoning. I think he was just trying to make the best of an unpleasant situation.”
“Perhaps we can press the issue. Entice him to reveal his true feelings.”
Amelia was silent during their exchange, but now she frowned. “I’m not sure that’s wise. We’ve interfered enough.”
Mary sighed. “You mean I’ve interfered enough.”
“Your heart was in the right place when you invited Abigail to your wedding breakfast.”
Abigail felt the blood drain from her face. “That wasn’t a happy accident?” She straightened her shoulders and faced the woman, asking the question she didn’t really want to know the answer to. “How much did Cranston tell you about me? Or was it Ashford who told you?”
Mary sighed. “It was Ashford, of course. But it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t idle gossip about your husband’s past.”
She wouldn’t assume the worst. If Cranston could sit and allow her to explain what had happened all those years ago, she could do the same for these two women she considered friends.
“I’m listening. But first… Is this friendship a ruse?” She winced slightly, hating how the question made her feel needy. “A way to help Cranston find his own happy ending?”
Mary took hold of both of Abigail’s hands and squeezed them. “No, it’s not like that. Not entirely.”
Amelia frowned. “If you’re trying to reassure her, you’re doing a terrible job.”
Mary huffed. “I’m not the one who’s good with words. Let me try again. Do you remember that first day when Amelia and I met you?”
Abigail nodded. “I’d just arrived in town and was visiting the shops on Bond Street, looking for a few items we needed at the house. You were kind enough to point out some of your favorite shops.”
“Yes, that’s right. Amelia and I decided after that first meeting that we wanted to get to know you better.”
Amelia nodded. “That’s true. We’re so used to scheming women who only care about advancing themselves. You didn’t even ask us about our husbands, which is rare. It meant that you cared more about us as people and not just about how you could use a connection with us to advance yourself.”
Abigail could concede that point. “I’ve noticed that myself. But since I hadn’t been happily married and tried not to think about my own marriage…” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Discussing husbands has never been something I enjoyed doing.”
“Well, shortly after, Ashford and I were at Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. We met Cranston there and walked together for a little bit. I spotted you and mentioned that we’d met and that Amelia and I wanted to become better acquainted with you.”
Abigail could just imagine how Cranston had taken that news. “I didn’t see you.”
“Yes, well, Cranston had this strange look on his face and froze in place. I assumed that meant he’d already dallied with you since I knew you were a widow.”
Abigail tried not to reveal how much she hated the idea that her husband might very well have slept with every widow in London in the one year since he’d returned from war.
“Ashford hastened me away.”
“So he knew.”
“I heard him ask your husband if you were ‘the one.’ Then when we left, he told me that Cranston had been in love once and had his heart broken.”
Abigail had to look away, shame overtaking her.
“That was all we knew,” Amelia added.
“I don’t think our husbands knew more than that. And until that day, they didn’t even know who the woman in question was,” Mary said.
Amelia nodded. “We don’t blame you. We all know that women don’t always get to choose whom they wed.”
Abigail shook her head. “Well, you can rest assured that I did not want to marry someone who was older than my father, especially not when I was in love with someone else.”
Amelia’s face softened with sympathy. “With Cranston.”
“Yes.”
