“That makes sense,” Mary said with a nod. “Now that you’re out of mourning, I imagine you’d like to get out and about again. I regret that we won’t be able to spend time together until Ashford and I return to town next year.”
The man seated to Abigail’s left asked her about her daughter, and Abigail turned to answer the question. Her voice was low, however, and Cranston couldn’t make out her words.
He’d gone out of his way to avoid any news of the Dowager Viscountess Holbrook. He hadn’t even wanted to think about her since resigning his commission and returning to England last year. He’d seen the new viscount, her husband’s heir, during sessions in the House of Lords, but he hadn’t spoken to the man.
The young, very handsome viscount whom he believed was close in age to Cranston’s own thirty years. He wondered if the viscount was also staying in London and hated the spark of jealousy that flared to life within him.
Lady Benington spoke low enough that only he and her husband could hear. “Lady Holbrook is a very lovely woman, and she seems quite pleasant. I’m happy to hear she’s now out of mourning and able to… socialize.”
His gaze shot to Ashford’s sister. For a moment he feared that she, too, was a part of whatever scheme his friends’ wives were planning.
He couldn’t be certain, but if he had to guess, he’d say that her statement was innocent. Brought on, no doubt, by the way he’d been trying to overhear Abigail’s conversation.
Damn. At some point he’d stopped being discreet.
He smirked at the woman. “Are you inquiring about my nocturnal habits?”
Lady Benington colored, and her husband laughed at the way Cranston had put an end to her questions about Abigail. Lord Benington turned the subject to tamer ones, and Cranston spent the rest of the meal being careful not to get caught staring at Abigail again.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t observing her out of the corner of his eye. She kept glancing in his direction, as she’d been doing since his arrival.
He knew exactly what that meant. She was working up the courage to approach him.
Well, he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of catching him off guard. If there was one thing his years in the army had taught him, it was that it was always best to control the battle.
After the meal was over, he made it a point to speak to the other guests present so she wouldn’t have an opportunity to approach him. When it was clear that she’d given up hope of speaking to him that morning, he went on the offensive.
She was chatting with Lowenbrock’s wife when he approached.
“You’ve been dying to speak to me since I arrived.”
Her entire body stiffened.
Amelia excused herself and left the two of them alone.
Chapter 4
“Now is your chance to speak to me. You might not have another.”
Abigail froze as waves of shock rolled through her body. She’d seen Amelia’s eyes dart over her shoulder to watch someone approach. She’d been about to turn to see who it was but hadn’t expected it to be Gideon.
Given how he’d been avoiding her, she’d been considering when and where she could find another, less public space to speak to him. She’d even considered asking the marchioness to help her in arranging a meeting somewhere where she wouldn’t have to worry about others who were competing for his attention.
From the cool, clipped tones of his voice, it was obvious he didn’t want to speak to her. No doubt he saw her as someone he was forced to acknowledge, and that fact didn’t give him any pleasure. It was so different from how he’d behaved with everyone else that morning, in particular the women. It didn’t matter whether they were wed or not, his attention toward each had been warm and attentive. But now the edge of ice in his voice was unmistakable.
She took a deep breath and turned to face him.
He stood stock-still as he looked down at her. She wasn’t blind. She’d been aware that somehow he was more handsome now than he’d been all those years ago. But it was another matter to have him standing this close to her.
He stood a foot taller than her, but that was where the similarity to the young man she’d once known ended. This man was broader. Harder. She’d caught glimpses of the gentleman with whom she’d fallen in love earlier as she watched him smile and laugh with the other guests. But now, as he waited for her reply, he was guarded. The youth who’d once delighted in life was gone, replaced by the jaded individual standing before her.
Had his years in the army done that to him, or was she responsible?
Her eyes roamed over his face, looking for some clue that would tell her what he was thinking. Well, at least he was no longer ignoring her.
She inclined her head, taking her cue about how to act from his own indifference. “Lord Cranston, is it not?”
He lifted one brow. “Come now, surely I’m not that easy to forget. I seem to recall a time when you quite enjoyed my company.”
