“What do you mean?”
A pause followed, then Petra snapped the book shut in order to meet her gaze. “Only that you are not as outgoing as we are.” She tilted her head. “Are you sure you didn’t put Mr. Townsbridge off by looking as though you would rather be elsewhere?”
Abigail flattened her mouth. While it was true she’d always been somewhat shy, this had nothing to do with the anxious unease that had gripped her when she’d realized who her parents meant to introduce her to. “You know I—”
The parlor door opened and Arundel, the butler, appeared. He looked just as stiff and unapproachable as always. “Mr. Tobias Chesterfield has come to call,” he said in that dry, acerbic tone only very skilled butlers could pull off without looking daft. Arundel managed to do so with perfection.
“By all means, show him in,” Lance said. Arundel departed and Lance met Abigail's gaze. “A pity you turned downhisoffer when he asked.”
A snort from the other corner of the room was enough to reveal what Petra thought about that particular comment.
Abigail sighed. “You know perfectly well Papa did so for me.” Not that she minded. As a childhood friend of Lance's, Tobias had been a constant part of her life. She liked him and had always felt comfortable in his presence, but marrying him would be downright odd, like putting on your favorite pair of gloves the wrong way around. Not to mention that his name had been touched by scandal, seeing as his brother had fled the country after being accused of embezzlement. Remaining friends with Tobias was one thing. Making him part of the family was quite another.
“I came as soon as I heard,” Tobias said after entering the room and greeting everyone. Concern marred his features, creasing his brow and tightening his jaw. He glanced at Lance, then went straight to Abigail and lowered himself to the spot beside her on the sofa. “There is no doubt in my mind that Mr. Townsbridge is a scoundrel who took advantage of you and—”
“The fault is not his alone,” Abigail said. Perhaps it was Petra’s comment from earlier that had chastened her, perhaps she was simply more awake now and able to think with greater clarity. Or maybe it was the fact that she knew Mr. Townsbridge wasn’t the only one to blame for what had happened that caused her to come to his defense. “In fact, if it weren’t for my strolling into a dark room and sitting on him, I dare say I wouldn’t be in this mess.” And neither would Mr. Townsbridge, which made her wonder, for the first time since the calamitous incident occurred, what he must be thinking of her right now. Never mind the rest of his family.
Abigail’s toes curled with immediate mortification. Were they having a similar discussion in the Townsbridge House parlor at this exact moment? Had hopeful young ladies vying for Mr. Townsbridge’s hand come to sympathize with his plight just as Tobias was doing with her?
The very idea made Abigail jolt to her feet. Tobias stood as well and so did Lance. From her armchair in the corner, Petra watched the proceedings like a spectator at the theatre, eager to know what would happen next.
“That does not excuse him,” Tobias said. Concern for her was apparent in his warm and friendly eyes. “If he’d been more careful, you would not have been found in his lap or with part of your gown torn to shreds.”
Abigail stared at him, her cheeks flushing with shame as she realized how much the scandal sheets had revealed. “That,” her voice trembled slightly at the thought of what all of London Society must be thinking, “was an accident.”
“On your part certainly,” Tobias said, “though it really doesn’t look very good.”
“On that we are all agreed,” Lance muttered.
“Which is why I would try to improve the appearance of things if I were you,” Petra remarked.
Abigail turned to stare at her sister. “Whatever do you mean?”
Petra rolled her eyes. “Make people question what really happened between you and Mr. Townsbridge last night.” She stared at Abigail with fierce intensity. “And for God’s sake, don’t let them think you’re cowering in shame.”
“Perhaps a walk with me and your siblings in the park would be the thing,” Tobias said, his voice both kind and hopeful. “Being seen, showing the world you will not be put out by last night’s debacle and that you’re actually happy to marry Mr. Townsbridge, could help your reputation tremendously.”
Only if she were trying to look like she’d trapped Mr. Townsbridge and felt no remorse whatsoever. Not to mention that being seen with Tobias in public would likely have the opposite result of what she wanted to achieve. But since saying as much was sure to hurt him, she nodded while trying to gather her thoughts.
“Yes,” she said. “Hiding away at home will only make matters worse.”
“We can go to Gunther’s as well,” Tobias said with increased excitement.
Lance frowned. He looked both uncomfortable and uncertain. And then Petra opened her mouth, clearly intending to argue this terrible idea, which forced Abigail to say, “As tempting as that sounds, I fear I must decline.” She noted the look of disappointed confusion on Tobias’s face and swiftly added, “I shall go to Townsbridge House instead and call on my future sisters-in-law.”
#
HALF AN HOUR EARLIERat Townsbridge House
“I’m going to kill Hugh,” James grumbled while pacing the length of the parlor floor. “And then I am going to revive him so I can kill him again.”
Charles and Bethany watched him from their positions on the sofa. They shared a look – one of those filled with endless paragraphs of unspoken words only a deeply connected couple could manage – and then Charles asked, “Did he hold you captive while forcing brandy down your throat?”
James stopped in the middle of the room and glanced at his feet. The pile in the carpet had been kicked up by the heels of his shoes, leaving a series of crisscrossing tracks behind. “No.” He glanced up and met his brother’s gaze. “But if Mother had let me stay home and rest instead of insisting I come along to the ball, then I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Charles tilted his head. “So then it’s Mama’s fault?”
Expelling a breath, James pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly shook his head. “No.” But he wished it were. He wished he could blame someone besides himself because then there’d at least be a target for his frustration.
