Page 64 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
This idea was met with excited gasps.
“I thought you might all like that. Now, shall we enjoy boat ridesbeforethe picnic, or after? We don’t need to decide now, by the way. Feel free to enjoy a little wine or lemonade and some refreshments while we all get settled in.”
Aunt Florence glanced down at Abigail and Lord Donovan as she spoke, giving them a pleased smile.
“I believe I’ve quite charmed your aunt,” Lord Donovan murmured, flashing a secret grin.
“Oh, my aunt likes most people,” Abigail replied, somewhat ungraciously. “She’s very kind.”
“Yes, very kind. Just the other day, I remarked to Lady Caldecott that the quality of young women was so very dire these days, andshesaid that…”
Abigail stopped listening. She found her gaze, as usual, drawn across to where Alexander sat.
Was that normal? Was it usual to find oneself always looking for one particular person in the crowd, heart pounding as you searched? Was it normal to feel one’s stomach drop when they weren’t there, or one’s heart to leap when you saw them? Frankly, Abigail wasn’t sure at all what had come over her.
If it was love, it wasn’t at all like what the books described. There’d been no swooning, no yearning, intense gazes. She hadn’t fainted once when he came into the room. She’d laughed until her sides ached and she truly thought she might be sick at Alexander’s charades, her face hurting from so much laughter. Was that normal? It didn’tfeelvery romantic, but it had certainly been easy.
Abigail knew that she was not consideredfascinating. More than once, gentlemen had made jokes around her, and she had not laughed. Simply put, they were not funny, but apparently nobody had considered that. She’d given offence, according to her mother later. Ladies were meant to laugh whenever gentlemen said things that they intended to be funny, but it had to be a polite laugh – sweet and tinkling and attractive. Scarlett was good at it.
Abigail could not remember the last time a gentleman had made her laugh. And it wasn’t a pretty laugh. She was fairly sure she’d roared, snorting occasionally in a most unladylike way, face creasing up. Had Alexander been disgusted? He hadn’t seemed disgusted.
She glanced his way again, and this time she paused, frowning.
The footman was pouring out wine. Diana held two glasses and attempted to pass one to Alexander. He said something she could not hear, smiling nervously, and gestured towards the jug of lemonade.
Diana gave a tittering laugh thatdiddrift across to where Abigail sat and offered the wine glass again.
Alexander shifted away, just a little, hand outstretched. She could read his lips enough to know that he was sayingno, no thank you.
The conversation around them dipped, and Abigail could clearly hear Diana say:
“Oh, come, Willenshire! Men don’t drinklemonade. This is a fine, full-bodied red. It’ll cheer you up. Come, you must drink a glass. I insist. You wouldn’t contradict a lady, would you?”
The others on the picnic blanket were all sipping wine, watching Alexander out of the corners of their eyes. They all tittered when she said that men did not drink lemonade.
And the next thing Abigail knew, she was on her feet.
Everybody else was sitting down by now, Aunt Florence just about to lower herself down.
All eyes turned her way, and the conversation dwindled away. They all waited, expectantly, and colour rushed to Abigail’s cheeks.
She felt a tug on the hem of her skirt, and she glanced down to see Lord Donovan staring up at her.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “Sit down!”
She ignored him, addressing herself to the Dowager instead.
“Your Grace, I think we should go on the lake now.”
“Oh?” the Dowager answered. “You aren’t hungry?”
“Not particularly. You see,” she continued, warming to her theme, “we ate a late breakfast. If it rains later – I’m sure it won’t, but if itdoes –we can go home and have our picnic indoors, which will be just as fun, but we won’t be able to go on the lake at all. So, I think we should do that first.”
Aunt Florence was staring at Abigail, clearly trying to work out what she was doing.
“Well, that makes sense,” the Dowager said at last. “We’ll need to go out in pairs, as the boats are quite small. What does everybody else think?”
Abigail was not listening. Already, she was aware of Lord Donovan tugging harder on her hem, this time trying to get her attention so he could invite her to go on the lake with him. That was not part of Abigail’s plan.
