Page 30 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
“Thank you, my lord,” Aunt Florence responded crisply. “We shall trespass on no more of your time.”
A dismissal if ever there was one. Alexander bowed again, and melted back into the crowd.
Abigail, on the other hand, was in trouble. Aunt Florence gripped her arm tightly, almost frogmarching her over to the refreshment table.
“Lord Donovan came back with our lemonades, and I had to tell him that you had gone whisking off towaltzwith his lordship, Alexander Willenshire,” she said crisply. “He was most put out.”
Abigail pressed her lips together. “What should I have said to Lord Alexander, Aunt? I could not be rude to him. This ball is held in his ancestral home, with his own brother as the Duke and his mother as the hostess. Should I have refused him?”
Aunt Florence passed a hand over her face. “No, no, of course not. Forgive me, my dear, I don’t mean to snap. I’m only annoyed that Lord Alexander is looking your way. It will have been noticed, mark my words, that youwaltzedwith a rake like him.”
“I… he is notlooking my way. It’s nothing like that.”
“You can never tell with a rake,” Aunt Florence retorted tartly. “I have known him for a long time, and while he is a good boy, I want him nowhere near my niece. If it means I have a falling-out with the Willenshires, so be it.”
Abigail said nothing. She remembered uncertainly how Alexander had confided that he planned to marry that Season. But then, she’d toldhimthat she had no money.
“Is is lordship poor?”
“Hm? What? No, I think not. He inherited a great deal of money from his father, if I recall. But men do look to marriage when they get bored, even rakes.”
“But he said…” Abigail trailed off, remembering Alexander’s talk of dowries and having no money. Odd.
“No, we’ll avoid him as best we can. You aren’t feeling a drawtowards him, are you, my dear?” Aunt Florence added, peering anxiously at her.
“No, no, of course not.”
“Good. Now, let’s seek out Lord Donovan, and perhaps…” she trailed off as a willowy woman with blonde hair and a black satin dress glided towards them. Abigail’s heart sank.
“I hope you’ll forgive me speaking to you without a formal introduction,” the woman fluted, in a genteel, delightful sort of voice. “My name is Lady Diana Lockwell. I believe you and I, Lady Caldecott, had a passing acquaintance sometime before my marriage.”
Aunt Florence blinked, brow scrunching as she called up an old memory.
“Oh,yes, of course, I recall! You were Miss Rubeshall then, of course! This is my niece, Miss Abigail Atwater.”
Feeling frozen from the neck down, Abigail managed a lopsided curtsey. Lady Lockwell sank down gracefully, watching her closely out of large, dark-coloured eyes.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Atwater. I find myself newly in town, soon to come out of mourning. I hope we might be friends.”
“Yes, quite,” Abigail managed. She found herself glancing around, looking for Alexander. Surely he was nearby? What was the woman playing at?
Lady Lockwell rose from her curtsey, face a beautiful mask.
“I hope to see you again, Miss Atwater. Good luck in your endeavours this Season. We ladies need a generous helping of luck, do we not? I hope you get all that you deserve.”
Well, that was a threat if ever she had heard one. Abigail managed a watery smile, and that seemed to satisfy the woman. She nodded at Aunt Florence and glided away into the crowd.
Abigail let out a long, slow breath.
“Well,” Aunt Florence said, after a pause. “I wouldn’t trust that one as far as I could say.”
Chapter Nine
The party was going well. No thanks to Alexander, of course, and his drunken fool of a friend.
William breathed in deeply, forcing himself to stay calm. He’d snatched a few minutes to himself in a quiet corner by the mantelpiece, but it wouldn’t be long before somebody or other came over to talk to him, and then his peace would be over.
He breathed deeply, steadying himself. Balls like this weren’t meant to bepeaceful. He was here to do his duty, both to himself and to his mother. Mary, for her part, was having an excellent time, and William was glad. The poor woman had few enough pleasures in life as it was. She deserved a little joy.
