“Thank you, Abigail.”
“I also know painfully well how it is to carry the burden of your family. How is it to be the adult in the room?”
Prim swallowed and looked away. It was bad form to speak ill of one’s parents. But she felt the way Abigail showed her empathy.
“Tell me,” Abigail continued, “just to see if I guessed it right, you worry more about your sisters than you.”
“If I don’t, no one else will.”
“You are taking on too much responsibility. You should be enjoying the season, not managing three futures. And you are doing an exceptional job.”
A cruel chuckle escaped Prim. She looked out to the garden, to the endless lawn, to the sun shining. She could be having fun, laughing and joking, and talking about light matters with a new friend in this splendid scenery. And yet she was cold and bitter and constantly felt as if chased.
“I know that this may come as a surprise, but Leo will solve this.”
The mention of his name woke flames that consumed her from her feet to the top of her hair. The momentary peace she felt evaporated as the one vivid memory from the opera rushed to her through the manicured lawn and took residence in her mind. The dark box, his breath on her neck, his lips barely touching her ear, their faces close, so close.
“I have no doubts about his competence,” Prim muttered.
“Leo is Edwin’s best friend. Edwin is my husband.”
Abigail’s face lit up the moment she mentioned him. Prim almost looked away from that happy smile. Jealousy was a temperamental creature. The two Dukes were infamously called the Unholy Duo, and they were the first men her mother warned her about in her debut. She was now, of course, welcoming the one half with open arms, but that was her parents.
It was the talk of the town when the other half announced his marriage to an obscure vicar’s daughter. Now that Prim met Abigail, she realized. Abigail was not obscure, and the poor Duke of Blackwell stood no chance.
“I know Leo,” Abigail continued. “He may seem,” she vaguely gestured. “You know.”
“Yes. I have many words regarding His Grace. But let’s not spoil our tea.”
Abigail’s laughter echoed in the garden. Prim tried to hold back her own but gave up and joined her. She needed that release.
“He is a bit too much,” Abigail agreed.
“Or too little,” Prim clipped. “Depends on where you are standing.”
The Duchess almost dropped her tea in laughter.
“And here I was ready to help you… handle with a man like him. I think you don’t need my assistance.”
“Mainly because I have no intention of handling him.”
Abigail smiled.
“Edwin told me that you and Leo have an… understanding.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. We have an agreement.”
“Is that so?” Abigail’s eyes glinted.
Prim smirked. Abigail didn’t even try to mask the innuendo of her innocent question.
“The Duke has provided an effective, if not radical, solution to a rather pressing problem.”
“You don’t seem happy.”
“I am content that the situation became less… fearful, but the solution has some irritating parameters.”
“Leo is getting on your nerves.”
