Page 57 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
She needed time to think. Unfortunately, she was not going to get it.
It felt as though she had only been sitting for a few minutes before the door opened and the menfolk came pouring in, chatting and laughing, some still clutching brandy glasses.
“You’re finished quickly!” the Dowager exclaimed, hurrying over to Alexander, who came in last. She beamed up at him, hands dancing out to touch his face, almost adoringly. Alexander smiled down at his mother, eyes crinkling.
From her vantage point, Abigail could see the faces of the others. More specifically, she could see the Duke of Dunleigh, who the Dowager had pushed past without a second look to get to her youngest son. His expression tightened, but he said nothing.
“We thought we’d join you early,” Alexander explained, looping an arm through his mother’s and escorting her to a seat. “What would you all say to a game of charades?”
The idea was well received by young and old. Abigail, who’d hoped to sit quietly and read her book, was not thrilled at the idea, but nodded and smiled when he glanced questioningly at her. It would look rude to refuse.
I’ll have plenty of time to be a wallflower when I go home.
That thought sent a jolt through her. This was the first time Abigail had properly thought about going home, but of course this visit could not last forever, and Aunt Florence was not going to keep her for weeks and months on end.
And then Abigail’s moment in the sun would be finished. It would be back to spinsterhood and invisibility, back to sitting on the sidelines at local balls while others danced. Scarlett would marry, most likely. She would probably not have the chance to secure a really good match, on account of their finances and the expense of a London Season, and Abigail would be blamed for that, for charming their aunt in givingherthis opportunity, rather than her younger sister.
Abigail’s throat tightened. She gave her head a little shake, bringing herself back to the present. Just in time, she saw Lord Donovan approaching her, smiling complacently.
“They are talking about forming into partners for charades. May the best pair win, eh?”
Abigail’s heart sank. Of course, she might have known. She would be stuck with Lord Donovan all night. She could see Diana approaching Alexander, a sultry smile on her face, and knew exactly how things would be.
And then the Dowager spoke up.
“To make things more interesting,” she said, beaming around at the company. “we shall pick names out of hats for our partners! The gentlemen will write their names down, and the ladies shall pick. How does that sound?”
Lord Donovan and Diana’s faces both fell comically, but Abigail bit back a sigh of relief.
***
They decided to go by age, starting with the youngest, which meant that Abigail was presented with the hat much more quickly than she’d anticipated.
Smiling nervously at the company, she reached in and picked up the first piece of paper her fingers touched.
It would be just her luck if she picked Lord Donovan anyway.
She unfolded the paper, and blinked at it for a moment, waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into a different name.
“Lord Alexander Willenshire,” she read out.
Diana flinched as if slapped. Aunt Florence made a littlemoueof disapproval, and Lord Donovan’s lips tightened. The Dowager, who was holding the hat, saw none of these changing expressions, and only beamed at Abigail.
“Oh, you are lucky! Alex isexcellentat charades.”
She moved on before Abigail could respond, and Alexander came shuffling forward.
“It’s you and I, then,” he said, smiling wryly. “May I sit?”
“Of course.”
Abigail’s heart was hammering. Alexander settled himself onto a stool beside her armchair, sitting so close she could almost feel the heat coming off him. No doubt feeling her eyes on him, he glanced over, and she felt herself blushing.
Alexander smiled; a languid, lopsided grin that made her chest tighten again.
“I intend for us to win this, Miss Atwater.”
She smiled back. “So do I.”
