She shrugged. “I was just trying to be honest.”
He stared at her. “How so?”
“It’s nothing.” Confiding in Tobias was probably a mistake. “Forget I said anything.”
This just made him frown. And then he reached for her hand. “Abby, if Mr. Townsbridge has treated you ill in some way, then I would suggest you speak up now before it’s too late.”
“I—”
Her words were cut short by the unexpected arrival of the man they had just been discussing. James Townsbridge was suddenly there, his expression utterly grave as he looked straight at her. “Good morning, my lady.” His gaze dropped to her hand and she hastily pulled it away from Tobias’s. The edge of Mr. Townsbridge’s mouth twitched. “I hope I’m not imposing too much.”
Abigail’s silly heart fluttered madly against her breast. Her stomach did that annoying flip it always did when she was faced with the handsomest man in existence. She swallowed, attempted to speak, but then changed her mind and just shook her head.
“Arundel ought to have brought Mr. Townsbridge’s card first,” Tobias told Abigail. His visible displeasure almost made her remind him that the aging butler hadn’t detained him either.
But she lost her chance when Mr. Townsbridge said, “He knows I’m about to be part of this family.” The words,unlike you, were heavily implied. “And then Lady Roxley arrived in the foyer, and she agreed that it would be fine for me to come find you myself, seeing as you already have company.” He sat and placed a bouquet of roses on the table. “These are for you.”
“Th...thank you,” Abigail managed.
Mr. Townsbridge responded with a glower. And then he said, “Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Chesterfield, I would like to have a private conversation with my future wife.”
“Only if the lady agrees,” Tobias said. He made no hint of planning to get up anytime soon.
“She does,” Mr. Townsbridge clipped. His voice sounded increasingly angry.
Abigail forced herself not to look at him and to focus on Tobias instead. In doing so, she was able to calm her nerves a little. “It’s all right.” She managed a smile. “I’m sure Mr. Townsbridge and I have much to discuss. Thank you so much for coming to visit and...for your concern.”
“Think nothing of it.” Tobias hesitated briefly, then stood. Rounding the table, he placed one hand on Abigail’s shoulder. “Perhaps I should ask one of the maids to come chaperone?”
“You required no such thing,” Mr. Townsbridge pointed out.
Tobias calmly told him, “Abby has known me most of her life. More importantly though, I do not make her feel uneasy.”
For a second, it looked like Mr. Townsbridge might grab the bouquet he’d brought and use it to give Tobias a thrashing. But then he said, “A misunderstanding, I believe, and the reason why I am here.” This remark was followed by a pointed look that gave Tobias no other choice but to take his leave.
Silence fell, thick and uncomfortable, and then a maid arrived. She placed a clean glass on the table for Mr. Townsbridge and then removed herself to a nearby bench.
Mr. Townsbridge snorted and rolled his eyes. “Abby?”
“He...um...” She took a deep breath and prayed she’d be able to speak a full sentence without her words sticking together. “Toby...I mean, Mr. Chesterfield and I—”
“Are you in love with him?”
“What?”
“Well, he’s clearly in love with you, so it is a reasonable question for me to ask.”
“I...um...” While it was true Tobias had offered for her hand, he’d never declared having feelings for her that went beyond the bounds of friendship. So she’d assumed he’d done it because he thought it might be expected, and because he’d been hoping her family wouldn’t dismiss him based on his brother’s actions. Of course, he’d been wrong. She was a marquess’s daughter and appearances mattered.
Mr. Townsbridge grunted. “Unfortunately, I am the man you’ll be marrying, so you should probably try to tolerate my company. No matter how sick that makes you.”
#
JAMES HAD ARRIVED ATRoxley House with the best of intentions. He’d put a great deal of thought into the bouquet he’d purchased, eventually settling on a particular shade of pink roses matching the gown Lady Abigail had worn the previous evening. But when he’d reached the doors leading to the garden, the sound of masculine laughter coming from the terrace had made him stop and listen.
“Good God, Abby,” sputtered a man he’d soon discover to be Mr. Chesterfield. “Whatever were you thinking?”
“I was just trying to be honest,” Lady Abigail replied.
