It was Lily’s voice she’d heard, clear as day. Almost as if they were still the dearest of friends and knew without a doubt what the other girl would say. Once upon a time they had been able to finish one another’s sentences. They’d shared the same brain, Lily’s mother had once teased.
Her smile faded. But that time was long gone, of course.
With that maudlin thought, she found herself standing beside the old bore— No. She thought of what Major Mayfield had said and corrected herself. The old war hero. “Hello, Sir Geoffrey. Are you having a pleasant evening?”
His head snapped up with a start and he blinked at her. “Pardon me?”
She just barely held back a sigh. If she was going to have to stand here and shout to be heard all night, then she was already regretting her decision to do this. She raised her voice slightly. “I asked if you were having a pleasant evening.”
His brows arched. “There’s no need to shout, Lady Abigail. I’m standing right here.”
She clamped her lips shut but then… Wait a moment. Was he teasing? She was certain she caught a glimmer of mischief in his eyes and she narrowed hers in turn.
He turned back to the crowd with a sigh. “To answer your question, no. I am not enjoying my evening. These house parties are tedious and dull. Heaven knows why I still feel the need to attend.”
She blinked in surprise. “That’s shockingly honest.”
“Mmm.” He agreed with a nod. “I’ve often found life, in general, would be much more pleasant if people were more honest.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Events like these, for instance. They’d be different indeed if people actually spoke their minds.”
Her lips curved up in the first real smile of the evening as she tried to imagine it. “This drawing room would be filled with blood and fisticuffs before you could blink.”
He let out a harsh bark of laughter that had the people standing around them turning to stare. She ought to be mortified, she supposed. Now everyone would know that she’d been reduced to talking to boring old Sir Geoffrey.
But then again, boring old Sir Geoffrey was proving to be far less boring than she’d imagined.
“So then, Lady Abigail…” He turned to her with a sharp gaze. “What have you done that you’re stuck over here with me?”
“Oh, I—that is, I don’t mind—er—” She stopped her flustered babbling at the sight of that wicked laughter in his eyes once more. She exhaled loudly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He chuckled and turned back to the crowd. “Don’t try to play the fool with me, dear. I’ve been watching from the wings longer than you have. You’re no one’s fool.”
Her lips quirked up as she regarded the older man.
He wagged a finger in her direction. “It’s that big brain of yours that got you into trouble, I’d bet.”
“It did not.” She paused. “It was my lack of morals.”
He arched his brows, his eyes lit with amusement rather than judgment.
“My bad manners,” she added for good measure.
“Well, at least you’re not a fool.”
She choked on an unexpected laugh. Truly, where had this man been hiding all this time? He was delightfully improper. Turning to face him more fully, she said, “Now you know what I am doing over here in the land of outcasts? What is your excuse?”
“I’m old,” he said bluntly.
She arched her brows just like he had. “That’s not an excuse, that’s just a fact.”
He gave that bark of laughter again but this time she didn’t so much as glance over to see who’d heard. “What does your age have anything to do with anything?” she asked.
He sighed. “I don’t claim to be smart, but age and experience have made me wise. And do you know what that wisdom has given me?”
She shook her head.
“Little patience for fools.”
She let out an inelegant little snort of a laugh that her mother would have chided her for.
His eyes glinted with mischief. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Pardon me,” she said with all the righteous indignation she could muster while so amused. “I thought we agreed I was not a fool.”
He looked at her. That was it. That was all he did. He looked at her. And suddenly, for the first time in years...she was blushing.
She looked away quickly as she imagined all the things this man—this seemingly innocuous, boring, nobody of a man might have witnessed over the years. For a moment she could see herself through his eyes. And what she saw…
Well, that knot was back in the pit of her stomach because the vision had been all too easy to conjure.
She must have looked exactly like her mother. False laughter, cutting compliments, whispered rumors, and strategic snubs. The knot in her belly threatened to make her stomach heave.
“But…” Sir Geoffrey interrupted her horrid thoughts with a prosaic tone. “I suppose all young people are allowed to be stupid.”
She narrowed her eyes, but by his laughter he knew she was teasing. "Stupid, am I? I thought you said I had a big brain."
He shrugged. "We are all imbeciles at some point in our lives. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed." But she was. That was the alarming part. She'd behaved badly in the past. She'd behaved badly often. And now she was alone and she had no one to blame but herself. Give her a few years in a loveless marriage and she’d be the spitting image of her mother. “Perhaps I am a fool,” she muttered.
He shook his head with a surprisingly kind gaze. “The only reason to feel foolish is if you realize you've acted a dunderhead and don't change.”
She arched a brow. “Are you speaking from experience?”
His laughter sounded less like a bark, as though his throat had warmed
