Page 37 of The Baron's Return
They’d done their circuit around the large salon and were approaching her friends again.
“Well, I’ve done what I can,” he said with a slight bow over her hand, and she couldn’t help but notice the way he held her gaze for several seconds longer than strictly necessary. “I’ll leave you now in capable hands lest your husband decide to storm over here and call me out.”
She could only shake her head at the absurdity of his words as she watched him saunter away with a spring in his step.
“That was brilliant!” Mary said as she took her arm.
Amelia beamed at her. “Your husband wasn’t happy that another man was paying attention to you.”
Abigail let out a soft huff. “He knows where I am if he wants my company. Where is he now?”
“He’s—” Mary’s voice faltered as she looked over Abigail’s shoulder and her smile disappeared.
Abigail no longer cared if she was being obvious. She turned to look behind her and found Cranston in a tête-à-tête with a very attractive widow who was hanging on to her husband’s arm.
Ice slithered through her veins, and she feared she was going to be ill. She thought she’d prepared herself to face this possibility, but she’d been lying to herself.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a little air,” she said to the two women. She hated the twin looks of dismay on their faces, which was further proof that she wasn’t misreading the situation.
She headed to the garden doors that had been closed at some point in the evening. She realized why when she slipped through the doors and felt the light mist of rain fall on her skin.
She didn’t care that it was starting to dampen her gown, she just needed to get as far away as she could from the sight of her husband with another woman.
She began to head down the path that led to the back of the garden. Mary had told her once that the Lowenbrocks had a hidden gazebo there. If she could find it, she might get some relief from the rain that was no longer just a light mist.
After several minutes of her wandering around, a hand grasped her arm. A scream rose in her throat, but she held it back and turned to give whoever had grabbed her a setdown. She sagged with relief when she saw it was Cranston.
“What are you doing here?” He gave her a quelling look and began to lead her back to the house.
She tried, but failed, to pull away from his gasp. “I can’t go back inside. I’m indecent.”
His eyes drifted down to the décolletage of her pale blue dress, and a muscle tensed in his jaw. With a stiff nod, he led her in the other direction.
Straight to the gazebo, which was hidden behind a small gap in the shrubs she’d just walked past.
It was very picturesque, painted white with stone benches that lined the interior, but the only thing she could think about was Cranston as he dragged her under the roof. His coat protected him from the worst of the rain, but his damp hair was hanging straight.
She ignored the urge to brush it back. The rain had seeped into her clothing and she was beginning to feel cold, but she concentrated instead on the anger that was beginning to swell within her. He had the nerve to look at her as though she’d done something wrong when he was the one who’d been flirting with that woman who was all but falling out of her gown?
When he stopped, she pulled her arm out of his grasp and turned to glare at him. “As you can see, I’m quite well. And if you came to make sure I wasn’t having an assignation, I can assure you that nothing of the sort will occur.”
Why was the man just staring at her like that?
She let out a huff of annoyance. “You can go back to your lover… or soon-to-be-lover… or whatever she is to you.”
She turned away, angry with him, yes, but even angrier with herself that she was letting him get under her skin like this.
“I’m not going to leave you here, Abigail.”
She let out a mirthless laugh and turned to glare at him. “No, of course not. You’ve spent the evening flirting with every available—and unavailable—woman here, yet I’m the one who can’t be trusted.”
She would not stamp her foot or strike him, but dear heavens how she wanted to. More than she cared to admit.
He lowered himself onto one of the benches that lined the interior of the gazebo. What was the man waiting for?
She scowled at him. “If you don’t hurry, she might find someone else to warm her bed tonight.”
His mouth widened in a smile that had her fingers itching to slap him.
