Page 72 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
Aunt Florence sat her writing desk, pen poised. She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re speaking to me now, are you?”
She drew in a deep breath. Her insides felt as though they were twisted into knots. She kept seeing the image of Alexander and Diana together, her arms around his neck, his hands poised to go around her waist, their faces tilted together.
It made her feel ill.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Abigail said, and her voice sounded raspy and scratchy. Unsurprising, as she’d spent a good deal of time crying in her room before coming here. Lucy had tried to ask her what was wrong, but Abigail had told her that it was nothing, and not to ask again. It was clear her maid didn’t believe her, but she said nothing and only quietly withdrew, leaving Abigail alone.
All she’d wanted was to be alone, but the instant Lucy left, Abigail realised that she did not want to be by herself, not one bit.
“You’ve changed your mind?” Aunt Florence repeated, setting down her pen. “About what?”
Another deep breath. “About Lord Donovan. I’ll marry him, if he makes me an offer. Could you let him know that, please?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alexander practically pounced on the maid – her name was Lucy, he’d learnt – when she appeared at the entrance of the hallway.
“Well?” he asked eagerly.
The maid frowned, and wordlessly handed over the same envelope he’d given her earlier, with the name scrawled on the front.Abigail Atwater.He turned it over, inspecting the seal. Unbroken.
“She didn’t read it?” he said, despairingly. “Did you tell her that it explained everything?”
Lucy shook her head. “No, your lordship. I told her what you said, but she still wouldn’t open it. She said I’m not to carry any more messages from you, too. I’m sorry. I… I don’t think she wants to see you. She said if I carried more messages, she’d tell Lady Caldecott, and I can’t risk that.”
He deflated. “No, no, of course not. She… she’s angry with me, but it’s not what she thinks. I don’t know how to convince her otherwise.”
Lucy shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.
“Can I go, your lordship? I said you were waiting here for her reply, and she said to give you back the letter and come straight back. I’d better go.”
“Of course, of course. Thank you for your help.”
The maid trotted off, shooting curious backward glances at him as she went.
Alexander felt as though all the energy had been drained out of him. He crumpled the letter in his hand. He was tempted to let it fall, but then somebody might find it and read it, and that would be too humiliating. He dragged his feet all the way to his room, kicked open the door, and threw himself, fully clothed, onto his bed.
It had been two full days since the picnic at the lake, during which the rain had fell pretty steadily. The party was coming to a close.
Diana had made an excuse and left, much to his relief. Lord Donovan, however, was still here. Abigail had claimed a headache the day after the picnic and stayed in her room. She had been out today but seemed to be avoiding him. She was always with her aunt.
She doesn’t want to see you.
You’ve ruined everything.
He lay on his bed, staring up at the canopy above his head until it blurred. When the door creaked open, he assumed it was a servant coming in to tidy up.
“You look like a mess.”
Definitely not a servant. Alexander flinched, hauling himself upright.
William stood there, lips pursed, looking around the room.
“Thisis a mess,” he added, gesturing at the room. “Do you ever tidy up in here?”
“Sometimes,” Alexander lied defensively. “What are you doing in here, Will?”
He shrugged, leaning against the door. “I thought we could talk. Mother seemed to think you were down about something but wouldn’t say what. And then Miss Atwater’s maid told my valet that you kept sending letters to Miss Atwater, that she returned unopened. Care to tell me what’s going on? And does it have anything to do with why Lady Lockwell left in such a hurry?”
