So she waited. But Lily narrowed her eyes in one telling glare of disdain before turning her back to Abigail as if she did not exist.
Abigail swallowed hard, her expression never changing as she followed Lily’s lead and spoke to the footman who’d chased after her.
“Lady Abigail, your mother asked that I—”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, her voice colder and harsher than she’d intended. She tried to soften it with a small smile but she saw the way Lily froze for an instant and heard her loud sigh of disgust.
“I’m sorry, my lady but I must insist.”
Abigail tilted her chin up higher as a stableboy led her toward one of the mares designated for guests to ride during their stay. She ran a hand over the horse’s neck, letting the feel and sound of the animal calm her racing heart as she waited for Lily to leave. She ignored the footmen, sure if he followed, she’d quickly lose him on the trail. Unlike Lily, Abigail would not escape the footmen’s attempt to chaperone. There were definite advantages to married life.
Lily finally mounted as Abigail watched from the corner of her eyes. Her chest was too tight, her features frozen in a cold, hard mask until at last her former friend nudged her horse into a canter out of the stables.
Only when she was gone could Abigail breathe. Resting her head lightly against the mare’s, she allowed herself a moment of solace as the horse huffed in her ear. When she and her horse were out on the meadow, heading toward a line of trees that edged the property’s wooded land, she let out a long sigh of relief as she kicked her horse faster. In minutes, she’d left the unhappy footman behind and hopefully that was the one and only time she’d have to face her old friend this weekend.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, to be honest. They’d exchanged far more brutal barbs when they’d encountered one another in the past. Perhaps finally admitting she loved Merrick, and having his love in return, had softened Lily.
She let out a sharp laugh at the thought of a softened Lily and sent the birds in the branches above her scattering at the sound.
No, she could not imagine a softer Lily. But she was happier, that much was clear, and that was all for the best. Lily deserved happiness.
Heaven knew Abigail did not.
The thought was sobering and she fell into a thoughtful silence as her horse plodded along a path through the woods, knowing far better than she where the trail was heading. The rocking motion of the horse beneath her helped her heart to settle and her mind had a chance to replay that horrid encounter with the perspective of hindsight.
Perhaps she ought to have broken the silence in the stables. She winced at the thought. And said what? She had no idea. I’m sorry? She scoffed. Too little too late. Lily would only have laughed in her face.
She could practically hear her mother’s voice reminding her that a duke’s daughter apologized to no one. Certainly not a no one like Lily.
Lady Merrick might have won herself a title, her mother would say. But she’s still not your equal.
Not your equal. That had been her mother’s favorite refrain during that first season. It seemed no one was Abigail’s equal, in her mother’s opinion. No lady, at least. But that was before Abigail had failed to snare the heir to a marquisate. Now her mother’s lectures were more focused on how Abigail ought not be so fastidious in her choice of husband. How she could not afford to be so choosy. For all her talk of Abigail’s good breeding, it seemed her mother had little regard for her daughter’s worth.
So no, her mother would not have condoned an apology, even if an apology was in order. Abigail sighed as one question overrode all others. What would Major Mayfield have done in her place?
The thought made her still and the horse faltered slightly as if it could sense the shift in her. The answer was obvious. He would have done what was right. He would have apologized because it was the right thing to do.
She sighed again and nudged the horse to keep moving. Such a good man deserved someone better than Charlotte Ainsworth. But he was a grown man, and he knew his own mind, so if Charlotte was who he wanted, she was who he ought to have.
Her heart gave a rebellious kick to her ribs. She ignored it.
Besides, maybe the major would be a good influence on the girl. Charlotte was young enough, and not nearly as intelligent as one might hope. Definitely not as headstrong as Abigail. Which meant there was a chance for Charlotte yet, she supposed. She could change. Maybe even become the sort of woman he deserved.
For the major’s sake, she hoped so.
For her own…?
Well, she’d do best not to go down that path. She had her own troubles to worry about, and her own future to plan. She had a husband to hunt, and Major Mayfield had made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in being her prey.
9
Alex gritted his teeth—the molars in the back, anyhow. The front teeth were clenched in a forced smile.
Charlotte sighed for the third time in as many minutes. “Why do all the roses have to look exactly the same?”
Alex did not mention that there were differences if one looked closely enough, nor did he point out that one should never complain about being surrounded by such splendor. The garden was excellent.
“Perhaps you’d be more interested in the wooded trail I see just over there?” he asked, pointing. “It may offer a larger variety of flora and fauna.”
Charlotte sniffed, her tone petulant. “If you think so.”
“I think that an excellent idea,” Lady Ainsworth called from behind them.
Alex was certain that
