James glared at her. She was Lady Abigail’s sister, for God’s sake. How could she not have noticed that something was wrong? In fact, upon further observation, James decided that Lady Abigail looked rather pale.
“Your sister is feeling poorly,” he told Lady Petra. A thought struck him – one he had not considered until this moment because he’d been too annoyed and self-absorbed and utterly convinced she had wronged him by being a fool. But there was another explanation for why she’d been in that parlor last night and why she’d not noticed him there. “Were you trying to escape the ballroom last night because you felt ill?”
Lady Abigail nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My stomach—”
“Please,” James hastened to say. “You need not apologize when I was there for much the same reason as you. My head, you see, was in tremendous pain. So much so I would not have noticed you either if you’d been the one on the sofa.”
“I...I had no idea,” Lady Abigail said, her expression easing a little in response to his confession.
“Neither did I.” He turned to Lady Petra. “I think the best course of action right now is for you to take your sister home. She clearly needs rest.”
Lady Petra raised an eyebrow, but rather than argue as he feared she might be about to do, she nodded. “Of course.”
“And have a word with your cook,” James said. He met Lady Abigail’s gaze. “I’d like to get to the bottom of this so you can start feeling better.”
Lady Abigail took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
James nodded. “I’ll call on you in a couple of days to see how you’re doing.” And then he took his leave, walking one way while Lady Abigail and her sister went another. By the time he returned home he’d decided he was an imbecile. He’d completely misjudged the woman with whom he was destined to spend the rest of his life, and it was time for him to right that wrong.
