Lord Darlington's Darling (18 page)

Abby clasped and unclasped her hands in nervous
apprehension. “1 know that you feel it to be so. But
you have not considered my feelings, Bethany. I am
quite sick whenever I reflect how I have aided you to
indulge in this desperate flirtation.”

Lady Bethany gasped, her face pinking with outrage.
“Flirtation! How dare you! How dare you speak so
cheaply of what I hold so dear!”

“I beg your pardon! But you must see, it is not fair
to me,” pleaded Abby. She was desperate to make
her friend understand, but quailed involuntarily before
the flare in Lady Bethany’s narrowed eyes. “Bethany—!”

Lady Bethany made a quick gesture. “No! I think enough has been said. Your feelings! So selfish! I have been greatly mistaken in you, Miss Fairchilde!” She swept
away, every line of her carriage denoting furious
anger.

Abby was crushed. She knew as well as she stood
there that she had lost a friendship, and all for the
charm of a snake’s smile!

It did not go long unnoted that there was a rift
between Lady Bethany and Miss Fairchilde. Lady Bethany avoided her former bosom bow, while Miss
Fairchilde cast several unhappy glances after the
beauty.

Mr. Crocker, standing up with his sister-in-law,
kindly recommended that she not make such a specta
cle of herself. “I have no doubt at all, and nor does
anyone else, that you have enjoyed a hideous row with
Lady Bethany.”

Abby’s eyes flew to his face. “Is it so obvious, Peter?”

“How could it be otherwise, when she is giving you
the cold shoulder whenever she may and you look much like a whipped dog?” he asked.

“Oh, dear!”

“Never mind, Abby! I dare say you shall both have
forgotten all about it by the morning, and you will be
friends again,” said Mr. Crocker comfortably.

Abby felt tears start to her eyes. She shook her
head quickly. “No, not friends!” She looked up at her
brother-in-law beseechingly. “Peter, I wish to go
home! May I please go home? I feel so horrid!”

He was startled. “Of course, my dear. We shall in
form Melissa at once.” With that, he led her off of
the dance floor. There was a hurried consultation, dur
ing which Abby was adamant, before the Crocker
party took leave of their host and hostess.

Abby woke heavy-eyed and despondent. To all of
her relations’ well-meaning questions, she had returned evasive answers. At last they had left her alone,
Mr. Crocker expressing his belief again that these things happened occasionally and it would all even
out eventually.

Abby took scant comfort in her brother-in-law’s op
timism. Strange, how much her friendship with Lady Bethany Hart had meant to her. No matter how
uncomfortable she had become with her despised role
of messenger between Lady Bethany and Mr. Farnham, she
had nevertheless learned to revel in the younger wom
an’s untrammeled personality. Now the day stretched
before her without the added zest that Lady Bethany had always brought with her.

Abby was even less comforted by Lord Fielding’s
observations. His lordship had come to pay his respects almost before the breakfast covers were removed. He had apologized for this lapse in protocol by revealing his concern over Abby’s unhappy state.

Mrs. Crocker had kindly allowed him a short private
audience with her sister, remarking that she knew she
could trust his lordship to exercise all propriety.

Abby had thrown her sister a long-suffering glance,
but she had allowed herself to be escorted into the
drawing room by Lord Fielding. She supposed that his
lordship was going to make an offer in form to her,
and steeled herself to hear him out. However, she had
underrated Lord Fielding’s sensibilities and his sense
of timing.

“I do not hide from you how affected I am by your
distress, Miss Fairchilde,” he said seriously, holding
her hand and patting it gently. “It was obvious to
everyone how things stood. When I think of the ten
derness of your feelings, and what you must have felt upon being so ruthlessly cut by Lady Bethany, I am
filled with indignation.”

“Indeed, indeed, you must not say such things, my
lord,” said Abby. She attempted to remove her hand
from his clasp. There was a brief struggle, which she
ultimately won. Abby folded her hands tightly in her
lap, as much to keep possession of them as an expression
of her inner tension. “The fault is mostly mine for the
estrangement between myself and Lady Bethany. I
don’t wish to talk of it any longer, if you please.”

“As you wish, my dear. I shall say only that perhaps
it is just as well the connection is severed. I had grave reservations, ever since that freakish display by Lady Bethany
at the soiree, over the wisdom of be
friending her,” said Lord Fielding.

Abby eyed his lordship with gathering indignation.
“Indeed? What, pray, had you ever to say about it?”

Lord Fielding smiled indulgently and shook his head
as he would have at a fractious child. “I think we
understand one another too well to spar on that ac
count, Miss Fairchilde!” Always punctual, he glanced
at the clock and remarked that he had already sat with
her the prescribed quarter hour. “I must not outstay
my welcome!”

“No, indeed!” responded Abby at once. She had
never in her life been closer to being deliberately rude
to another person.

Having received no encouragement from Abby to
remain, Lord Fielding took his leave. He said just as
he exited the drawing room, “I shall call on you in a
few days, when you have had an opportunity for reflection and your spirits are not quite so low. I do not
wish to proffer my suit to a young lady who is in a fit
of the dismals!” He chuckled at his own witticism and let himself out, saying that he knew his way very well.

Abby sighed, glad that Lord Fielding was gone. The
prettily papered walls of the room suddenly seemed
oppressive. She decided she had spent enough time in
doors. She left the drawing room, intending to go up
stairs and inform her maid that she wished to walk in
the park. Anything was preferable to staying cooped up
inside and moping over the loss of a friend.

Just as she laid her hand on the balustrade of the
stairs, the porter opened the front door to Lord Dar
lington. From her vantage point on the first stair,
Abby regarded the marquess with mingled surprise
and dismay.

“You need not look at me as though I mean to ring
a peal over your head,” he said.

“I never thought you would!” said Abby swiftly,
though she colored because she had wondered just for
an instant if he had meant to say something. He was
Lady Bethany’s brother, after all.

He seemed to read her mind. “I am too used to my
sister’s mercurial nature to take her offenses as my
own, Miss Fairchilde,” he said dryly. “I came for the
purpose of inviting you to go driving with me.” He
was dressed in frock coat and breeches and had extra
whip points thrust through the buttonhole of his lapel.

Abby was at once convinced that nothing could suit
her better. “Only give me ten minutes, my lord, and
I will get my hat!”

Leaving a message for her sister and mother, Abby
left the town house in Lord Darlington’s company.
She was mildly surprised when he dismissed his
groom, but she decided if he chose to dispense with
the servant, then it was not for her to object. In any
event their destination was the park, and she was per
suaded that her reputation could take little hurt in
driving in such a public place without the chaperonage
of maid or groom.

Lord Darlington had chosen to drive his high-perch
phaeton, and it was from this elevated position that
Abby enjoyed the sights. She breathed in a lungful of
warm May air, quite content.

“I apprehend that I stand in some measure a knight-
errant,” said Lord Darlington laughingly.

Abby turned her head and smiled at him. Her bon
net was a new straw with an upstanding brim that
delightfully framed her face. “I am behaving badly, I
fear! I don’t make a habit of dashing out of my sister’s
house as though I was in need of succor, I assure
you!”

“I don’t suppose you do. However, I met Lord
Fielding coming down the front steps, so I am not at all surprised by your subsequent desire to escape,”
drawled Lord Darlington.

Abby laughed and shook her head in reproof, more of herself than of him. She could not quite deny the justice of his funning words, however. “Poor Lord
Fielding! His lordship means well, I know.”

“But he is a dead bore,” objected Lord Darlington.

“No, how can you say so? A very worthy gentleman, in truth,” said Abby, surprised.

“Does my animosity toward the gentleman surprise
you?” asked Lord Darlington.

“A little, yes,” admitted Abby.

Lord Darlington directed his team into the park at a spanking pace. “Perhaps I envy his lordship’s favored
position in your affections,” he remarked.

Abby turned startled eyes on her companion. “My
lord!”

Lord Darlington drew up his team. With one iron
hand holding the reins, he tilted up her chin with the
other. “My lord, indeed!” He kissed her swiftly.

Abby drew back, her cheeks flaming. Her heart was
doing crazy somersaults and hammering in her chest
all at one time. She could scarcely breathe. She told
herself shakily that it was the shock, for naturally such
liberties had overset her. But, oh, how nice it was!
She pressed her hands against her cheeks. “I must be
very wicked!”

Lord Darlington laughed in a low, intimate fashion.
“That is what you said the first time, my darling!”

Abby shook her head, not certain she had
heard him right, and if she had, quite certain that she
should object to that particular form of address. “My
lord, pray—! You must not!”

“On the contrary, I must. I am making up lost
ground with you, ma’am. Lord Fielding may have
been the first on the scene, but I trust that I will win
your heart in the end!”

She turned to him impulsively, and he caught her
gloved hand to his heart. She colored up again at their
intimate posture.

“Have you any objection to me paying my addresses,
ma’am?” he asked solemnly, almost diffidently.

She shook her head quickly. “None, my lord!” she
said with a shy smile.

“I fear I must kiss you again,” he said, and suited
action to words.

When he drew away, Abby gave a small breathless laugh. “What if someone should see?” she whispered.
“My reputation would be ruined, you know!”

“I made sure to stop in a secluded byway,” said
Lord Darlington confidently.

“You are quite, quite shameless, my lord,” said
Abby helplessly, yet nonetheless pleased. She had
never known anyone like him and was somewhat awed
that he was showing such a particular interest in her.

Lord Darlington smiled down at her, a tender light
in his brown eyes that made her even more breathless.
“I wish you will give Lord Fielding the right-about. I
should like to have the field to myself.”

Abby hid her face against his shoulder, not replying. In the first place, she was too inarticulate with happi
ness; in the second, she could not give Lord Darling
ton the assurance that he wished. In fact, as his
lordship’s off-the-cuff suggestion intruded itself more
and more upon her thoughts, her blissful state began
to dissolve. The very thought of the frightful scene
with Lord Fielding, certain to be followed by another with her disappointed and possibly angered relations,
was unnerving to her vivid imagination.

Abby righted herself and made an attempt to
straighten her bonnet, which had been pushed askew.
“My lord, we mustn’t stay long. Someone may come
by at any minute,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

“Prosaic of you, Miss Fairchilde.” Lord Darlington
did not seem offended and set his team in motion. He
glanced at his companion, who was still delightfully
flushed. “May I make free of your Christian name,
Miss Fairchilde?”

Abby nodded shyly. “If you please, my lord! It is
Abigail, but I am called Abby.”

“Abby.”
As Lord Darlington drew her name out, it sounded
like a caress, and Abby trembled. “And—and yours,
my lord?”

Lord Darlington’s smiling expression dimmed. He gri
maced. “I make you a present of it, ma’am! It is Sylvan.”

“Sylvan, as in sylvan surroundings, peaceable, lovely,”
she said quietly.

He glanced at her, seeming to consider her reaction.
“I don’t believe I have ever heard my name uttered
in so flattering a manner. I shall treasure the way you
say it, Abby.”

A perfect understanding seemingly being reached
between them, they chatted of a myriad of pleasant things during the remainder of their drive. It was as
Lord Darlington was pulling toward the curb before
the town house that he remarked, “Don’t let Lady Bethany
tease you. If I know anything about it, she has cried
her eyes out and is heartily sorry for whatever passed
between you last night.”

Abby bent her head quickly, not wishing him to see
the expression in her eyes. She stared down at her
clasped hands. “The fault was mine, my lord. And I
very much fear that our friendship is at an end.”

“I doubt the fault lies with you, Abby. You do not strike me as being quarrelsome—quite the reverse, in
fact—but my sister can be a distempered baggage,”
said Lord Darlington coolly.

“My lord!” exclaimed Abby in dismay, looking up at him with widened eyes.

Lord Darlington laughed. “Have I shocked you? I
have few illusions about my fellowman, Abby. There
are not many whom I consider worthy of trust, a few
close friends and acquaintances only. While I have
great affection for my sister, I do not allow that to
blind me to her faults!”