Page 40 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
Abigail was fairly sure that Lady Diana was walking deliberately fast. Already, Abigail was out of breath, puffing and panting in a most undignified manner. She clenched her teeth, refusing to let herself give up, or ask to slow down. They had crossed the wide gravel courtyard, delving into the maze opposite, full of waist-high, square green hedges. Lady Diana seemed to know exactly where she was going, leading them up and up towards the cusp of a hill, where Abigail could see rose gardens.
“I see you danced with Lord Alexander last night,” Lady Diana said, after about fifteen minutes of aggressive, silent walking. “I could not find him. He seemed to disappear, did you not find? Or perhaps you knew exactly where he was.”
It sounded almost accusatory.
Abigail swallowed. “I also danced with the Duke. It was just courtesy, I think. Because they are all such good friends with my Aunt Florence, you know.”
She wasn’t sure why she was trying to be conciliatory. It seemed silly. Weak, almost. Clenching her jaw, Abigail forced herself to keep looking ahead, and concentrated on not getting too out of breath, and not tripping.
“He is very kind,” Lady Diana said tartly, and Abigail had a feeling she was not referring to the Duke of Dunleigh. “To a fault.”
“Do… do you know him well?” Abigail ventured.
“Oh, very well. We were inseparable at one time. But life takes strange turns, does it not? I married, and I think that poor, dear Alex took it hard. He missed me dreadfully, by all accounts.”
Lady Diana shook back her curls, allowing herself a small smile.
“I’m sure you can be friends again now,” Abigail said, and earned herself a glare.
“I don’t need your permission to spend time with my friend.”
“I… I didn’t mean…”
“Oh, do be quiet.”
They had nearly reached the end of the maze, and the steep slope was levelling out. Poor Lucy had fallen behind, puffing and panting up the steep hill, red-faced. Lady Diana dropped Abigail’s arm like a stone, whirling around to face her.
For an instant, the woman’s beautiful face was twisted with anger, but then the moment passed and she was all smoothness and smiles.
“I invited you here, my dear Miss Atwater, to discuss something rather serious,” Lady Diana said, voice low and confiding. “You seem like a sweet girl. A wallflower, perhaps. The sort of innocent girl that a man such as Alexander Willenshire would like to practise his skills upon.”
Abigail resisted the urge to take a step backwards. “Practise… practise his skills?”
She smiled thinly. “Yes, rather like a cat sharpening its claws on a pretty little quilted footstool.”
“What a vivid image,” she managed.
“Indeed. He’s a rake, you know. I’m sure you know the type.” Lady Diana sighed expressively, rolling her eyes up to heaven. “Ican manage him, of course – I always could – but you, my darling girl, would be entirely out of your depth. Has Lady Caldecott not warned you away?”
Abigail said nothing. Of course Aunt Florence hadwarned her away,but really, it was unnecessary. Why on earth would Alexander Willenshire be interested inher? He was such a handsome man. So confident, so charming.
And Abigail was… well, she was Abigail.
If Scarlett was here, it would be another story entirely.Shewould have charmed Alexander immediately andsent Lady Diana packing into the bargain.
Lady Diana was still talking, tossing back her hair and talking about how wallflowers and rakes were a terrible combination. Abigail had stopped listening. Instead, she found herself reeling at a shocking fact.
I wish my sister were here. Scarlett wouldn’t let anybody speak to her like this.
She imagined Scarlett shoving Lady Diana backwards, and watching her topple head over heels down the slope. It was such a funny image she had to bite back a smile.
Lady Diana paused, mid-flow. “What are you smiling at? What is so funny? Answer me, you wretched thing.”
The smile dropped off Abigail’s face like a stone. “That’s not kind.”
“Kind? I don’t care aboutkind. I want you to stay in your place, you nasty, grubby little thing.”
Narrowing her eyes, Lady Diana lurched forward, gripping Abigail’s upper arms with long fingers, nails digging in. Abigail gave a squeak of alarm and tried unsuccessfully to pull away. Lucy was still further down the maze – she’d taken a wrong turn, it seemed, and did not want to vault over the waist-high hedges – and the woman’s grip was stronger than one might have thought.
