Page 29 of Scoundrel for Sale
Impossible.
And that left… Nigel.
Perhaps he wouldn’t be such a bad husband. She hadn’t wanted to marry George, but in many ways, he had been a good husband. He hadn’t understood her a whit, but George had tried. He had been kind to her, in a clumsy sort of way.
But Nigel was not George. She wondered if he would beat her. As her husband, he would be within his rights to do so, and she had no living male relatives who would object on her behalf.
Gabe would object. She had read about his situation in the papers and knew that he had inherited his great-uncle’s title. Unfortunately, he had also inherited his great-uncle’s debts, meaning there was no possibility he could marry her.
But surely he would be coming back to England now that he had inherited. And his presence on English soil afforded Abbie some level of protection. He would call Nigel out or threaten to beat the living daylights out of him if he laid a hand upon Abbie. She knew that he would.
Yes, with Gabe back on English soil, marriage to Nigel would be… not tolerable.
But perhaps survivable.
And so Abbie found herself wandering listlessly through Green Park, trying to resign herself to her status as the once and future Lady Dulson when a feminine voice interrupted her ruminations. “What’s wrong, dear?”
The voice belonged to a woman of about sixty years with high cheekbones and an angular face whose harshness was offset by the warmth of her brown eyes. Abbie soon learned that she was Katherine Lockley, the Countess of Wyndham. Lady Wyndham possessed a quality that was difficult to describe. Although she was not tall, she managed to be imposing, with a self-assured set to her shoulders and an ornate mahogany walking stick that Abbie suspected she would not hesitate to use as a bludgeon should the situation require it. But somehow Abbie knew at once that she had encountered someone who cared, someone who would listen.
So Abbie spent the next hour sitting on a bench in Green Park with Lady Wyndham, pouring out her troubles. It felt good to have someone in whom she could confide, even if Lady Wyndham could not materially change Abbie’s situation.
Once Abbie came to the end of her sad tale, she pressed Lady Wyndham’s hand. “Thank you so much for listening to me.”
“Of course, dear.” Lady Wyndham patted Abbie’s hand three times, then stood. “Now, come on.”
“Come on?” Abbie asked, surprised. “Where are we going?”
“Why, to Matron Manor, of course!”
“Matron Manor?” Abbie tilted her head at the odd name. “Where is Matron Manor?”
“It’s in Mayfair. But the more pertinent question is not where Matron Manor is, but rather what it is.”
“All right,” Abbie said, confused. “What is Matron Manor?”
Lady Wyndham rapped her cane against the gravel path. “It is the headquarters of my Wicked Widows’ League! And your new home, for as long as you need it. Come!”
Chapter 13
“The Wicked Widows’ League?” Gabe asked. He had propped a few pillows up against the headboard, and they were reclining against them while Abbie told him her story. “Dare I to ask what the Wicked Widows’ League is?”
“You might call it a club.”
Gabe waited for her to elaborate. She did not. “But why wicked widows? What sort of wickedness do they get up to?” He chuckled nervously. “They don’t go around poisoning people, do they?”
Abbie rolled her eyes. “Nothing of the sort. They merely want to live life on their own terms. They hold property in their own names and manage their own financial affairs. They also take lovers, if they want one and the gentleman is agreeable.” She poked him in the arm. “You know, the sort of behavior men engage in every day without being called a harlot.”
Gabe inclined his head, conceding the point. He was hardly in a position to cast any stones. “Well, I can’t argue against that. But why did they form a club?”
“It is fortunate for me that they did because, without the club, they would not own Matron Manor, where I am presently staying free of charge while Nigel pursues his case.”
Thank God. The thought of Abbie being forced to marry Nigel was intolerable. Of course, the notion of her marrying any other man made his chest twist up in knots. But the possibility of her finding herself bound to a man who would be cruel to her made him want to break things, starting with the nose of this imaginary future husband.
Gabe cleared his throat. “They’ll let you stay there indefinitely, then?”
“Lady Wyndham has said as much, even though I am not able to pay the club’s usual dues.”
Gabe let his head loll back against the pillows, his neck and shoulders untensing. “Thank God. That means you can forget all this nonsense about having to marry Nigel.” He waited a few beats for Abbie to agree with him, but she remained stubbornly silent. He peered up at her. “Can’t you, Abbie?”
