Not read books? How did any woman ever survive such a ridiculous notion. “Nonsense. How else is a person to learn anything?”
“A lady needs only to play the piano a little, perhaps sing or paint, and eventually run an efficient household. That’s what my mama says,” the younger girl insisted, taking on a prim demeanor Abby suspected was entirely too reminiscent of this mother she was so fond of quoting.
“Then perhaps you should marry Martin Henry,” Abby suggested wickedly. “I think you would be most suited. I could suggest that to your papa. Perhaps if the earl finds favor with you, I will be free to go my own way.”
“In disgrace,” the girl said. “Your papa would never forgive you if you did something to spoil his plans.”
Abby didn’t see that living out her days in disgrace would be much worse than marrying a man who would disapprove of everything she said and did. How dreadful it would be to have her imagination and her will stifled at every turn! She was beginning to feel a great sympathy for this Abigail in her dream. Perhaps she could help her out before she woke up.
Her companion was correct in one thing, though. It would be far better if this earl were the one to call off the match, if only to protect his male pride. He would have to do it soon, too, before the wedding plans were too far along. Abby fell silent, concentrating on her scheme.
What would make a man like Martin Henry turn his back on a young, pretty woman with satisfactory breeding and a modest dowry? Obviously he hadn’t been seeking a great fortune in the first place or he would never have spoken for her hand. Was he so very rich that such things didn’t matter? Or were there other more dire reasons for seeking out a woman whose chances of marriage had dwindled over the course of several London social Seasons?
“What do you suppose it might take to get him to call things off?” she wondered aloud.
“Abby, what are you thinking?”
“Come now, help me. Who do you know who has managed to extricate themselves from an unfortunate betrothal?”
Her companion looked thoughtful. “There was Margaret Heatherington. Surely you recall what everyone was whispering behind her back.”
“No, I don’t believe I do,” she said in what had to be the most massive understatement she’d ever uttered. She recalled absolutely nothing of import at the moment.
“It was perfectly scandalous,” the younger girl said with an unmistakable air of hushed excitement. Clearly she relished the telling of the tale.
“She was to marry Lord Dancy. Everyone said so, even though there had been no official betrothal. Instead, Margaret was carried off to Yorkshire, where she was apparently wed to a totally unsuitable gentleman no one had ever heard of. Among the Ton the word was that Margaret and the gentleman in question had been discovered in a very compromising position by Lord Dancy himself. Quite naturally there was no engagement. The rest of the rumor had it that Margaret couldn’t be more blissful, even though she has been thoroughly disgraced.”
Abby’s eyes lit up. “Perfect,” she said.
“Oh, no. I do not like that gleam in your eyes one little bit,” her companion said. “You’re not going to do something thoroughly outrageous, are you?”
Abby didn’t know where she was or why, but she could see that she’d better deal rather aggressively with the situation in which she found herself. Perhaps this odd situation was some sort of test of her ingenuity.
“Yes, I do believe I am going to do something perfectly outrageous, beginning as soon as possible.”
“At the Foxworths’ house party?” her friend asked, sounding dismayed and a little breathless with anticipation at the same time. “Oh, I do so hope Papa will agree to allow us to go. I wouldn’t want to miss what happens for all the world.”
Abby could hardly wait to see how things turned out herself.
CHAPTER THREE
Inside the unfamiliar house Abby felt like an intruder. She crept up the wide staircase hoping she could locate her room without anyone being the wiser. She figured she had better get her bearings in a hurry, if she was going to go through with this unexpected charade.
Unfortunately, the house appeared to have more bedrooms than a Holiday Inn. It was also cold and drafty. She hoped her wardrobe contained warmer clothes than she had on or she was going to freeze her butt off. Spending a lifetime in Arizona had obviously thinned her blood. This entire fantastical episode seemed a little too real. It was starting to lose its charm.
Poking her head into one room after another, she finally found one that contained what appeared to be a lot of feminine frippery. She decided it had to be hers, even though she would have paid several guineas or whatever the going rate of exchange was for a pair of jeans and a sweater.
Tugging off her unfamiliar, tight shoes, she climbed onto the high, soft bed and pulled the thick, luxurious covers around her. Perhaps what she needed was a good, long rest. Maybe she’d wake up back in Arizona, where she belonged.
* * *
“How is she?” Jared asked Riley, holding out a cup of steaming coffee.
Riley waved the coffee away. He rubbed his burning eyes. “Not good. She hasn’t come around at all. The doctors claim they’re optimistic, but I can see they’re worried. Her head injury didn’t seem that severe. She should have regained consciousness long ago. Instead, she seems to be slipping deeper and deeper into a coma.”
He stood up and walked over to the window, which looked out onto a tiny stretch of garden filled with bright red flowers. Hummingbirds hovered over the blossoms. Abby would have been enchanted. She loved plants. In fact, she’d always talked wistfully of living someplace where she could
