It Takes a Scandal (25 page)

He was handsome, charming, witty, and gallant. His entertainments were always a delight, with interesting people invited; even the weather was perfect whenever he planned something. There seemed to be absolutely nothing wrong with him . . . except that his attentions were becoming noticeably focused.

At the beginning, Abigail thought her sister had taken a liking to him. When he saved her hat during the barge party, Penelope acted as if it had been her most treasured possession, while Abigail knew very well it was an old hat in need of new trimmings. At Hampton Court, after he regaled them with ghost stories, Penelope dared him to prove them true, and the two of them investigated a few shadowy corridors while everyone else walked out into the sunshine. Abigail, who had seen her sister shred gentlemen in London with a single word, suspected Lord Atherton would have had a far easier time winning Penelope’s favor.

But for some reason, he didn’t seize any opportunity she offered him. Instead, he turned to Abigail. It was small things at first—waiting to help her out of the carriage, or maneuvering to sit near her when he called. Abigail noticed them only because they were the opposite of what he would do if he returned Penelope’s potential interest. Still, she told herself none of those actions meant much, and her sister’s feelings seemed unperturbed by any of it; she never expressed any affection for him, or even any particular wish for his attention. If anything, Penelope’s opinion of him seemed to diminish over time, although not for any reason Abigail could see.

It was too much to hope, however, that no one would notice his preference, especially as it grew more marked.

“You’re the belle of Richmond,” said Penelope after he left one day.

“Don’t be silly,” Abigail protested.

“He brought you flowers.”

“He also brought you flowers, and Mama,” said Abigail swiftly.

“Yours were bigger, and he gave them to you himself,” Penelope pointed out with maddening truth. “No one thinks he’s courting Mama or me.”

“You’re ridiculous.” But Abigail’s eyes strayed to the lovely arrangement Lord Atherton had brought. It was beautiful yet simple, exactly suited to her taste. Who but a suitor would go to such trouble and expense? Deep down, she knew her sister was right about the other bouquets. He’d brought her mother irises and her sister daisies, but Abigail’s bouquet was fresh rosebuds, pale pink-violet, dewy soft and so sweetly scented she wanted to keep them next to her all day. It also mocked all her protestations that he was just being a kind neighbor.

“Hmph.” Penelope tilted her head. “Have you heard from Mr. Vane?”

She gave a tiny shake of her head, her gaze lingering on the roses. “I didn’t expect to. He didn’t ask if he could write to me, and he isn’t going to be away very long.”

“Right,” said Penelope after a moment. “It hasn’t even been a fortnight.”

It had been a week and five days. Abigail knew precisely how long he’d been gone. And even if she didn’t expect to hear from Sebastian, she would have been glad to receive a letter. Very glad, actually; she missed his wry humor and slow smiles and the way he looked at her. None of that could be conveyed in a letter, of course, but it would warm her heart to know he was thinking of her. Lord Atherton was pleasantly distracting, but once he was gone, she thought of Sebastian.

Unfortunately, without any sort of declaration or promise, she didn’t know what to say to the inevitable reaction of her family. Penelope was not the only one who was convinced that Lord Atherton was courting her.

“There’s my girl,” said Papa fondly when they met in the drawing room before dinner that night. He kissed her cheek. “A future earl on the lead!”

She pressed her lips together. “Papa, really.”

“No?” His eyebrows went up without dimming his wide smile. “Is he trying to make off with your mother, then? I declare he’s been in this house more than I have been of late.”

Abigail gave him an aggravated look. “It was one bouquet! May a gentleman not give a simple bouquet without being convicted of aspiring to marry a girl?”

“Convicted!” Papa laughed. “Don’t mistake me, Abby—I didn’t mean to tease you! On the contrary, my dear, I couldn’t be happier. A viscount, son and heir to an earl. And quite a handsome fellow, too. I knew Richmond would be good to us.”

“Well, he hasn’t said anything to me,” she replied. “Did he ask you for permission to pay his addresses, and you forgot to mention it?”

“Not yet,” said her father equably. “But I won’t be surprised.” He must have finally noticed her aggrieved look. “Wouldn’t you be pleased, Abby?”

It was hard to know what to say. It would be wrong to say Lord Atherton’s presence offended her, or made her unhappy. He was charming and handsome, and she was genuinely glad to see him when he called. He told amusing stories and appeared as interested in her thoughts as in his own. The fact that he brought flowers was also hard to dislike. If only . . .

If only it were Sebastian showing such devotion. Or any devotion at all.

“We’ve only just met him,” she finally answered, unable to give a direct answer. “Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to leap to such a conclusion about his intentions?”

“Perhaps,” allowed her father. “But mark my words, Abby; gentlemen of Atherton’s rank don’t pay such particular attention lightly. He’s very struck by you, and it may come to naught”—he put up one hand as she turned to him anxiously—“but I wouldn’t be surprised if it led to more.” He paused and studied her expression. “Is this about Vane?”

Abigail opened her mouth, realized she
really
didn’t know how to answer that, and closed her mouth.

“Well,” said Papa at her silence. “It will work itself out. If his feelings are engaged, he won’t slink quietly from the stage, and nothing holds a man’s feet to the fire like a rival. Time will tell, eh?” He pinched her cheek and heaved a mock sigh. “I can’t believe I’m discussing this with you! I used to bounce you on my knee—just last month, it seems. And now my girl is a lovely young woman, looking to run the poor fellows ragged like her mother did to me.”

“Mama did not run you ragged,” she protested. “If anything, she says you ran her to ground and wore her down with protestations of undying love until she agreed to marry you just to have a little peace!”

“So I did. And I was right, too.” He winked. “I know what I speak of when I tell you to keep the young bucks at bay. Make him chase you.”

Abigail huffed. “Everyone is leaping to conclusions, assigning me suitors from all over Richmond. Are you that eager to see me married off? Nothing of the sort has happened! I hope you tease Jamie this way, too.”

“If your brother ever pays any attention to a woman, I assure you he’ll hear of it,” he promised. “Penelope will see to it. Speaking of whom . . .” He turned. “Penelope! Come here, minx. I have a bone to pick with you. How, pray, did that dog get into my study the other day?”

“It was raining, Papa, and I couldn’t let Milo outside,” his younger daughter said with a straight face. “He needed new territory to explore.”

“And a new table leg to chew!” He shook his finger at her. “I ought to make you scrub the stains out of the carpet, miss . . .”

Abigail trailed behind them into the dining room as they continued their good-natured argument. What did she think? She would like to see Sebastian again. She wanted to know what he had been hinting at when he asked about speaking to her father. She wanted to walk in the woods with him again, and she wouldn’t mind at all if he kissed her again the way he’d done that last time, as if he had all the time in the world and meant to spend it making love to her.

On the other hand, she truly did enjoy Lord Atherton’s company. It was flattering to be the object of his attention, whatever he intended by it, and it made her parents so pleased. Perhaps too pleased, she thought with a trace of alarm; Papa was in exceptionally high spirits tonight, and the frequent smiles he gave her left no doubt of the cause. He’d hardly been coy about his desire to see both his daughters well married. Lord Atherton fit the bill from head to toe: wealthy and handsome, charming and noble. Papa hadn’t prohibited her interest in getting to know Sebastian, but he would jump for joy if she encouraged Lord Atherton.

Abigail closed her eyes for a moment, telling herself she was being silly. Wouldn’t it be a grand joke on her if Lord Atherton merely turned out to be a flirt? He might be sending bouquets to five other young ladies. He might not call on her again. There was certainly more than one rake in London who would tease a woman with his attention, then abruptly turn to another lady without a word of pardon or explanation. In another week or so he might lose interest in her and she would have made herself fret over nothing.

And it didn’t matter anyway, because she was sure Papa would listen to her. If she told him another man had won her heart and wanted to marry her . . . someone like Sebastian . . . she believed her father would give his consent. Whomever he might prefer for a son-in-law, he would honor her choice.

She almost laughed out loud at how silly she was. No one had proposed to her—or even asked to court her—and she was making herself anxious over how she would choose. Rivals! When neither one had declared himself a true suitor. What a goose she was. With a slight shake of her head, she picked up her glass and joined in the teasing toast her sister was making to their brother, who had just returned from a brief trip into London and was late to dinner.

But Lord Atherton’s attention did not wander. And there was still no word from Sebastian.

Chapter 16

“A
t last, a free day!”

Abigail had to laugh at Penelope’s declaration. They had come into the village with James, but with no special purpose in mind. For once they’d had no callers that morning, and by midday even she had felt restless enough to want to get out of Hart House. It was alarming how easily she’d got used to the stream of company. “Free of what—visitors and entertainment?”

“Just free,” said her sister airily. “Isn’t it pleasant to have some peace?”

“I thought Richmond was too peaceful for your taste.”

Penelope snorted. “Not of late! We’ve been everywhere, it seems, with hardly a moment to ourselves.”

Abigail narrowed her eyes. “Are you impugning Lord Atherton?”

“No,” said her sister too quickly. “How could I possibly? So handsome, so tall, so titled!” She laid one wrist on her forehead and pretended to swoon.

Abigail swatted her. “Unlike that Penelope Weston: so cross, so fickle, so rude!”

“Rude! He’s not here—for a change—and I called him handsome, tall, and titled, not overbearing, oblivious, and arrogant.”

“Miss Weston! What a pleasure to find you here.”

Abigail cringed and gave her sister a warning look as they turned toward the speaker. Lord Atherton was striding toward them, sunlight flashing on the golden head of his walking stick. He swept off his hat and gave a courtly bow, a broad smile on his face.

“How do you do, sir?” Abigail curtsied, and then nudged her sister into doing the same.

“Very well, now that I’ve met you.” He set his hat back on his head. “May I walk with you?”

“Oh dear. We were just about to turn for home,” said Penelope. “Perhaps another day!”

He glanced at her. “That is a terrible shame. I was hoping to ask a favor of you.”

“We were in no hurry to go home.” Abigail wanted to smack the simpering expression off Penelope’s face. It wasn’t like her to show such dislike of anyone, let alone a handsome man. “If there’s any way we could help, we would be delighted to do so.”

Lord Atherton grinned again. “Thank you, Miss Weston, I knew I could count on you.” Penelope gave a quiet snort. Abigail could tell he heard it by the twitch in his jaw. “I’m in need of advice regarding my sister Samantha. It’s her birthday soon, and I’ve been away so long I haven’t the slightest idea what to give her.”

“We can try,” said Abigail with a laugh. “But I would hate to be responsible for leading you astray. Perhaps we could ask some delicate questions the next time we see her—”

“No, I wouldn’t want to put you to such trouble,” he said with a charmingly abashed air. “As a brother, I shan’t be held to the highest standard. I merely need some inkling of the right sort of gift.”

“It doesn’t sound as if you’re in much need of help, then,” pointed out Penelope. “If our brother were even to remember the date of our birthdays, it would be such a shock we would fall senseless to the floor.”

“Hush, Pen,” Abigail scolded her. “James isn’t that bad.”

“He is,” she retorted. “He wished me a happy birthday just three months ago. On
your
birthday.”

“I think he was teasing you.”

Penelope scoffed. “That’s what he would like us to believe.”

“Well, I’m quite sure it’s Samantha’s birthday and not Elizabeth’s,” said Lord Atherton. “Heaven save me if ever I confused them! Will you help me, Miss Weston? I assure you, I’m utterly desperate and promise not to hold any suggestion against you. Anything you say will surely be far better than my own inadequate ideas—particularly since I have absolutely none.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Brilliant. I shall be forever grateful.” He offered his arm, still regarding her warmly. “Where can we begin our search?”

Abigail hesitated a moment before taking his arm. There was a gleam in Penelope’s eye that made her wary. For some reason, her sister seemed to have taken a militant dislike to Lord Atherton. “I don’t suppose she’s expressed a desire for anything?”