Page 49 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
Not waiting to see if Abigail followed, Diana glided off into the drawing room.
Abigail stood there for a moment or two, her beautiful dress hanging heavy from her shoulders, until a figure appeared in the open doorway.
“Abbie?” Aunt Florence whispered. “What’s the matter, dear? Aren’t you coming in? Mary suggested we could play a game or two of chess, and I mentioned thatyouwere particularly good at…”
“I don’t feel well,” Abigail interrupted. She hated to interrupt anyone, least of all her aunt, but the words were out before she could stop them.
Aunt Florence frowned, stepping out into the hallway. “What’s the matter? Do we need to send for a doctor?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Abigail said hastily. She felt small and stupid, tears pricking at her eyes. In a few minutes, she would have to begin tearing the wretched dress off herself. “I… I just think I’m getting a megrim. I might go to bed early.”
Aunt Florence nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want. Are yousureeverything is alright?”
“Oh, yes,” Abigail lied. “Quite alright.”
Chapter Fourteen
Alexander took a deep swig of his wine, emptying the glass. He set it down, glancing over at the footman to indicate that he wanted it refilled.
He was playing billiards with a handful of other gentlemen, and so far, the game was not going his way. Perhaps the shake in his hands was because of that, not because of… of anything else.
He didn’t want to think that his tightening chest and pounding heart had anything to do with the wine.
Or worse, Abigail.
He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Her new dress was beautiful, giving her an ethereal look. She’d looked soborednext to Graham, and he’d longed to rush over and rescue her, somehow or other. He’d been the first gentleman back in the drawing room, and his heart had plummeted when he saw she wasn’t there. Lady Caldecott was staring daggers at him, so he didn’t dare askherwhere her niece was, but somebody else said something about a megrim and an early night.
There didn’t seem much point staying after that, and now here he was in the billiards room.
Losing.
He drew in a deep breath, trying to dispel the image of Abigail Atwater glancing at him across the table, eyes creased with amusement, and took his shot.
Crack. Billiard balls bounced ungracefully across the table.
“You missed, old boy,” one of the men commented. “Bad luck.”
Alexander smiled tightly, straightening up.
One of the men was Graham Donovan, of course.Hewas playing well, and had joined at the last minute, doubtless so that Alexander couldn’t cry off. Every time Alexander looked around, he found the man’s eyes on him, seething with dislike.
He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him if he lost the money wagered on this wretched game and picked up his refilled wine glass. Had he really intended to stop? What nonsense. There was nothing wrong with a little wine now and then. Or a whisper of whiskey. Brandy was practically a dessert.
He took a few large mouthfuls, gulping it down like water, and stepped back to let the next gentleman take his turn.
And then William appeared in the doorway, face set in a thin line, expression grim.
“Gentlemen,” he announced, “would you give my brother and me a moment alone?”
Anywhere else, there would have been murmurs of complaint at having to abandon the game, or even outright refusals.
Not in the Duke of Dunleigh’s house. Nobody was quite ready to challenge William’s authority yet. There were a few bitten-off sighs, a few meaningful looks exchanged, but that was all. They all filed out, leaving Alexander alone with his brother.
William shut the door with his heel.
“What have I done now, then?” Alexander sighed, snatching up his wine and perching on the edge of the billiards table.
“Besides drinking too much?” William snapped. “That’s your third glass.”
