you did not think through the repercussions,’ she added. ‘Nor did you imagine that you would be trapped at a house party with me and your betrothed.’
‘My former betrothed,’ he said firmly. Then he attempted a joke to change the subject. ‘And I chose to keep company with you because I assumed that, eventually, you would see the error of your ways and accept my proposal.’
‘Silly boy.’ She smiled fondly. ‘My opinion has not changed in all the years we have been together. We did not suit then. We do not suit now.’
‘Not as you did with your first husband,’ he agreed.
‘I did not suit him, either.’ She laughed.
‘But I could not imagine a better union than one between two friends,’ Benedict insisted.
‘You could not?’ She arched her eyebrow again. ‘Having tried it, I can assure you, there is more to marriage than that. You need a woman who will give you a son.’
He frowned. ‘I thought I had found one.’ He could still remember his first glimpse of Abigail Prescott’s flashing dark eyes and serene smile. One meeting was all that had been necessary to decide him. In less than a week, they had been engaged. ‘It was all arranged.’
‘And then she jilted you.’ Lenore did not exactly chortle, but there was a distinct lack of sympathy in her tone.
‘I gave her no reason.’ He was still not sure what had changed her mind.
‘Now that she is here, you must ask her.’
He frowned, wishing she would drop a subject that was embarrassing enough without additional commentary.
‘You have made no effort to speak to her, thus far,’ she reminded him. ‘It is time you did.’
‘Since we are not married, you have no power to nag me into doing things I do not wish to.’ Not even when she was right. His childish infatuation for Abigail Prescott had been accompanied by equally childish anger at her rejection. Perhaps she was in love with another. Perhaps the responsibilities involved in elevation to Duchess were too daunting.
Or perhaps she simply did not like him.
But she could have been polite enough to inform him of the fact in person or in writing before the actual ceremony. He had thought it wonderfully brazen when she’d threated her own father with a public scene. But it had been another thing entirely when she had pulled the same trick on him without the courtesy of a warning. If she did not want to marry him, then he had no intention of chasing after her to beg for a reason. If the girl was a harpy in the making, then their failed wedding had been not so much an embarrassment as a reprieve. If she could treat him thus before the wedding, then their marriage would not have been the peaceful union he sought. It would be misery from start to finish.
As the days turned into months, he had decided the less he thought about her, the happier he was likely to be. Now she had appeared out of nowhere to destroy what small amount of peace he had managed to regain. But that did not mean he would give her the satisfaction of seeing him hurt. Having witnessed the results of unfettered emotion in his family, he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him lose control.
He stared into the mirror, pretending to admire the beautifully tied cravat to show how little this supposed crisis mattered to him. Then he turned to Lenore. ‘If she wished to ruin her reputation by crying off, it was not my business to ask why. Nor do I mean to offer her any more than I already have. If a dukedom is not enough to get her to the altar, I cannot imagine what she expects.’
‘It could have been nothing more than fear on her part,’ Lenore said in a gentle voice. ‘You can be quite intimidating when you set your mind to it.’
He laughed. ‘Do you think I bullied her into marrying me? She is lucky that I took her on at all. With a philandering drunk for a father and a social-climbing cit for a mother, her family pedigree was not likely to gain her an offer as good as mine.’
‘It did not seem to bother you at the time,’ Lenore replied. After a lifetime’s acquaintance, she could look through him like an empty glass.
‘And it does not bother me now,’ he insisted. His last comment had sounded like the petulant outburst of a man who cared far too much. ‘If you wish to know the truth of her motives, you will have to ask her yourself. When I see the girl, I mean to treat her in a civil manner to prove there are no hard feelings on my part. But I am not going to beg for an answer, nor will I be goaded into a public confrontation for the amusement of the crowd.’
Her lips formed an ‘O’ of astonishment and she looked ready to question him further. He had few secrets from Lenore, but friendship did not entitle her to pick through the remnants of his heart like a rag bin. ‘Gibbs, please see Lady Beverly out. If she spends another minute meddling in affairs which do not concern her, she will not have time to dress for dinner.’
His valet went to the door, opened and stood respectfully to the side and gave Lenore the patient look that servants used when forced to obey commands that were not likely to go well.
Lenore looked between master and servant, then laughed. ‘Putting me out?’ She rose from the bed as gracefully as she had taken to it. ‘You have never done that before.’ Then she swept past him and through the door, turning to leave a parting shot. ‘This will be an interesting—’
At Benedict’s signal, the door closed before she could complete the sentence.
It did not take long for the Comstock servants to prove that there had been no insult intended in the rooms they had been allotted. Before Abby and her mother had finished speaking, a string of footman appeared, carrying their luggage from the carriage, and Lady Comstock’s own maid was hurrying between their two rooms, drawing baths and pulling dinner gowns from their trunks.
* * *
An hour later, with her hair dried, curled and decorated with emerald pins to match her green silk gown, Abby felt more than a match for anything or anyone that might await her on the ground floor. But upon arriving there, it took only a moment to realise that things were not as bad as Mother had expected—they were far worse.
Their appearance in the door of the sitting room brought the action within to a sudden halt. It was as if she was staring at an oil painting of the ton at leisure and not an actual party. All chatter stopped. Glasses paused halfway to lips and, though play had stopped, hands around the card table rose slightly to disguise the curious expressions of the players that held them.
Beside her, she could feel her mother begin to falter. She sympathised, for she could feel her own heart racing wildly and her blood pumping ice through her veins. Before either of them could make things worse by showing their fear, Abby pushed from behind, forcing her mother forward. Once they’d passed the threshold, the Countess bore down on them with the singlemindedness of a dreadnought. ‘Mrs Prescott, Miss Prescott, please, come join us.’ She kissed their cheeks as if they were old friends and not complete strangers, then forced her way between them, linking arms and towing them into the midst of the gathering. ‘Even if it comes from misfortune, I welcome your company. You are not yet acquainted with my husband. We must remedy that immediately. And if there are people in our little group you do not know, point
