locked out of because of their cantankerous relationship. Gilmore smiled at Rhys, he laughed at his jokes, he sat and moved with more ease. He looked like a man, not the machine she sometimes believed he must be, hard and cold. No, right now he was warm. Still hard, though. Good God, but the man was well heeled.
It was very unfair.
“Will you re-enter the marriage mart, Mrs. Montgomery?”
Abigail jolted out of her thoughts about her enemy and forced her attention to the woman across from her. The one who had just asked her an incredibly loaded question. She glanced toward Pippa, who had now focused all her attention on her plate.
The questioner was the vicar’s wife, Mrs. Smith. She was older than Abigail and had a kind enough face, though it was certainly curious. She sensed that anyone within earshot was leaning a bit closer, desperate to hear her answer. Desperate to take this glimpse into her scandal back out into Society.
“I do not know,” she said slowly, carefully modulating her tone so that no emotion crept in. At least she could take that cue from Gilmore.
“I suppose it would be difficult after—” Mrs. Smith cut herself off and her eyes dropped.
Abigail shifted in her chair slightly and wished that her cheeks didn’t heat so. “Well, I hope that my friends do not judge me by the actions of another person. That we have not fallen that far yet as a society.”
There were some murmurs in the affirmative, but no one would look at her. Or at Pippa, or at Celeste down the table.
Abigail suppressed a sigh. She had spoken big words, meant to shame anyone who would reject her or her friends. But the truth was, Abigail knew that society was built on exactly the kind of shunning she had described. That it was her late husband who had been wicked or cruel or foolhardy didn’t really matter, she was judged for what he’d done as if she were party to it. And she was also judged for not being clever enough to spot his deception.
In that arena, at least, she also judged herself. Not knowing what Erasmus was the moment she saw his face all those years ago…she wondered what it did mean about her character.
The others around her had changed the subject and were now blessedly talking about something else. Pippa leaned closer and, beneath the table, gave Abigail’s knee a squeeze.
“These are the worst days,” she whispered. “It will get better, I believe that.”
Abigail smiled at her friend. “You have Rhys and he adores you. What is Society’s acceptance when compared to that?”
“On that score, I agree with you.” Pippa stared off down the table toward her husband. “And I could be well-pleased with only that man and our family for the rest of my days. But it is important to him to rebuild what his brother destroyed. So I will do everything in my power to create that future for him.”
Abigail nodded. “Well, that is true love if ever I heard it.”
Pippa smiled and nudged Abigail before she whispered conspiratorially, “Look, Lady Blain has fallen asleep!”
Abigail jerked her gaze down the table and found that Lady Blain’s head was lolled to the side against her shoulder, her feather flitting into the face of Reverend Smith. He tried to quietly blow air at the feather and divert it out of his eyes, to no avail.
Abigail and Pippa giggled together before Abigail murmured, “And that’s how you win, Gilmore.”
“What was that?” Pippa asked.
“Nothing,” Abigail said with a smile as she stared down the table at the duke. He must have felt her eyes on him, for he turned toward her and their gazes met. She couldn’t hold back a triumphant smile as she nudged her head slightly toward Lady Blain.
He followed her stare and saw Lady Blain’s dozing. His mouth dropped open and there was no hiding or mistaking the shock that flowed over his handsome features. Nor the annoyance that followed that he had lost their little bet.
His eyes slowly returned to Abigail and he tilted his head to the side in acknowledgment of her win. The swell of pride she felt in that moment had hardly ever been equaled in her life. As if she had singlehandedly slain a dragon.
A really beautiful dragon.
“Are you and Gilmore making eyes at each other?” Pippa whispered, her face lined with shock.
Before Abigail could deny that ridiculous charge, another of the women on their side of the table, Mrs.