“I will. Our conversation made me realize how much I need friends. I am not always so standoffish, I promise. Sometimes I have made the effort, and it hasn’t been well received.”
“Who? Think about those. That might be the key to your wound.”
“Your father,” Alice blurted out before she could think better of it. “John asked me to accompany him to visit the marquess. He wanted to introduce me to him. The old man looked at me with such indifference. Disdain, even. He advised John not to associate with me. As if I were some plague-ridden pest that was going to contaminate his precious heir.”
Abigail made a moue of disgust. “My father—our father, although I understand why you would not wish to acknowledgehim as such—is a cold, hard man who never had much respect for women. If it makes you feel any better, he didn't have much love for me either. As a daughter, I was of very little value to him. He allowed me to marry my first husband, a contemptible man, when I was little more than a girl. I won’t say he forced me, because force wasn’t necessary. I was so starved for affection that I mistook that cad’s attention for love. But my father knew him better. He must have known his character. And he didn’t protect me. When I was widowed and destitute, I didn’t return to my father’s home. I took refuge with Esther, the previous Countess of Hartfield. And thank God for her. In her home is where I met my husband.”
Alice’s attention caught on that. She’d had a vague notion but had not realized Esther—Mrs. Wang now—had been the previous countess.
“Did Esther ever resent you for replacing her as Lady Hartfield?”
“No, because she’s a lovely woman. Generous and kind. But I did feel like an impostor for a while. Worrying about offending her or making her feel replaced. But we worked it out, because we are friends and truly care for one another.”
“My mother-in-law is not so lovely. Nor does she care much for me.”
“Ah! That might make the situation much more difficult. But that is her fault, not yours. Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve your place.”
“Thank you, Abigail. Your presence, your words…they really mean a lot to me. You have helped me more than you realize.”
Abigail smiled widely, a smile that lit her face. She really was as kind as she was beautiful. How lucky she was to have her as a friend—as a sister. And to think that she would have given that up because she felt undeserving.
What else would she be giving up if she didn’t discard her fears?
The answer filled her with panic.
Everything.
CHAPTER 32
Alicesoonlearnedthather newfound sister didn’t do anything in half measures. Her unexpected visit was only the first step in her friendship campaign. She had apparently decided to take Alice under her wing and had followed up with an invitation to tea in her home, to which she had also invited Josephine and Esther.
Today, Abigail had convinced her to go shopping for hats. Not that it had been difficult. With the mission completed, Dalton having no new assignments for her and ordering her not to go to the office until further notice, and Nathaniel away, Alice found herself at odds, with too much time on her hands.
She had needed the distraction. Otherwise, she would sit at home and obsess over Nathaniel and their relationship. She already did enough of that in the evenings. And the nights without him were the worst. How had she managed to live without him for five long years? How would she do it again if she lost him this time?
Abigail had proved a great friend and ally. Oh, how she wished she had known her sister growing up. There had been so many times in her life when she had needed the sympathetic ear of a close friend! But the important thing was that she was here now, and although their relationship was new, she knew in her bones it would be lifelong.
“What do you think of this one?” Alice asked Abigail, turning to her wearing a flowery confection of bright green flowers.
Abigail made a face.
“The style is pretty, but I should advise you against that color. Why don’t you try it in yellow? Or pink?”
Well, that was not a flattering reaction.
“Does it look that bad on me? The shopkeeper tells me it’s all the rage, and I think the color is pretty.”
Abigail came closer. “The problem is not the way it looks, but the ill effects it could cause. You may not know this, but Colin is a doctor. He once treated a lady complaining of sores and headaches. After several consults, they were able to trace the worsening of her symptoms to when she wore a gown of this particular shade of green. It’s called Paris Green, and there’s mounting evidence that it’s toxic.”
Alice immediately removed the hat from her head and looked at the bright flowers with alarm. They didn’t look pretty anymore. They looked positively dangerous, which they probably were. She set the hat aside and walked away, searching for a less deadly head ornament.
The shop bell tinkled behind her as Alice drifted toward a far display, drawn by a confection of pale pink silk roses perched on a stand. It was entirely too frivolous, too girlish—and perhaps that was why she slipped it on. It brought roses to her cheeks, and she privately thought it looked lovely. Hopefully, there would be nothing wrong with this one. She turned, looking for Abigail to ask her opinion.
But it was not Abigail standing there. Instead, she came face to face with her mother-in-law.
Alice’s breath caught.
The Dowager Lady Greystone regarded her coolly, her lined lips curving into the faintest suggestion of amusement. “Oh, Alice, my dear,” she murmured, her voice as smooth as satin and just as slippery. “That shade of pink does you no favors. Makes you look like a blushing schoolgirl.”
