Page 45 of A Perfect Gentleman

Abby suspected that was a thumper, but she said only, “Indeed? I’m afraid I’m far too curious for that.”

“In my day, young ladies were taught to restrain their curiosity. No doubt it is different in America.”

“No doubt.”

“It is so nice that the weather has been pleasant while you are here,” Mrs. Ponsonby offered. “Hardly any rain.”

“The spring was terribly wet,” Lady Eugenia added.

By the time Abigail finished eating, they had thoroughly explored all aspects of the weather, both in June and earlier months, not to mention in previous years. Abigail finished her cup of tea, which she had to doctor with large amounts of milk and sugar to make it palatable, and politely declined to join the other ladies in the dowager countess’s sitting room upstairs.

Graeme had not returned, so she whiled away the rest of the morning exploring the house. That, too, soon palled. She was contemplating tracking down the butler to ask that coffee be added to the breakfast menu—she suspected both he and the countess would consider that bad form—when Norton appeared in the doorway to announce Mr. Prescott.

“David!” Abigail followed the butler into the entry to greet her friend—no doubt another social solecism. “It is so good to see you. How did you know I was here?” She tucked her hand in his arm as they returned to the drawing room.

“I came by last night. Didn’t Montclair tell you?”

“No, I haven’t seen him this morning. I slept rather late.”

“Molly came to me for help last night.”

“She notified you, too? I must say, she was certainly busy.”

“When you didn’t come back after she talked to Montclair, Molly grew very worried. And rightfully so. Did you really go down to the docks, Abby? What were you doing?”

“Well, it wasn’t my choice of a meeting place. But that was where he told me to be.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know his name.” Abby sighed. “Please don’t lecture me, David; Graeme has already pointed out how foolish it was. I took precautions, and I was positive the man wouldn’t hurt me. He wanted money, and injuring me would not have achieved that. I hadn’t foreseen that someone would shoot him.”

“And push you into the river, apparently.”

“That was probably just an accident.” Abby doubted it, but hopefully the idea would soothe her friend’s worry. “He was running past me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you.”

“He was very clear that I must come alone. Besides, I couldn’t confide in you.” She shook her head. “It involves someone else; it’s not my secret to tell.” He frowned, and she cast about for something to deflect his next question. “David . . . you were working for my father when we came here before.”

“Your father?” His eyebrows shot up. “This is about Thurston? Good heavens, Abby, don’t risk your life trying to help your father. If Price is in trouble, I am sure it is well-deserved and nothing to do with you.”

“I’m not trying to help my father. I wondered if you knew Lord Montclair’s man of business at that time.”

“Lord Reginald’s business man?” He looked surprised. “I suppose I might have. Let me think. . . . Yes, I believe I met him. I don’t remember why.”

“That’s not important. What I want to know is his name.”

“I have no idea what his name was. That was years ago, and he wasn’t memorable. I can’t even recall what he looked like. Why don’t you ask Montclair?”

“Ask me what?” said a voice from the doorway.

Both Abby and Prescott whirled around to see Graeme standing in the door, his expression one of polite inquiry. Red flooded Abby’s cheeks. How much of their conversation had Graeme heard? Her mind was suddenly, stubbornly empty of any answer to his question. She was sure she must look the very picture of guilt.

Fortunately, David was less at a loss. “Just a question about the British Museum. I had suggested we might go there one day, and Abby wondered if she would enjoy it.”

“I am sure Lady Montclair would find it quite interesting.” Graeme looked at her. “She has a great deal of curiosity about all sorts of things.” He strolled farther into the room. “I see you decided to take me up on my invitation, Mr. Prescott. I trust you find Lady Montclair well.”

“Yes.” Prescott gave him a nod as stiff as Graeme’s stance. “I was pleased to see her in good health after her ordeal.”