A Hero for Lady Abigail (A Wallflower's Wish #5) - Maggie Dallen Page 0,10

caustic, but had Abigail’s behavior really warranted the level of concern Max was displaying? He suspected there was more to it than that. But did he ask? Alex shook his head. He’d not participate in gossip, even with Max. “I did.”

“And the bad blood between her and Lily…” Max lifted his hand.

Ah, so there was more to it. Curiosity niggled at his gut, but he firmly shoved all questions aside. He’d told Lady Abigail he did not trade in rumors and gossip, and he’d meant it.

“Be careful with that one, that’s all,” Max said.

Alex grimaced. Did Abigail really warrant this sort of warning? She surely had her flaws, but she was also… he searched for the right word. Fun? No, that couldn’t be it. Unpredictable, perhaps. She was interesting, that was all. Out of the norm, to be certain, but he hardly believed that made her a threat. “If you must know, I’m trying to pursue another. Miss Charlotte Ainsworth.”

Max’s lips parted for a moment before he pressed them together. “Really? Her?”

He stared at his friend. His judgment was being questioned at every turn. “Have you ever known me to rush into bad decisions?”

“No,” Max confessed. “But I’m surprised you find Miss Charlotte of interest. She’s a bit…” He stopped, looking up at the ceiling.

Alex shook his head. “Don’t tell me. I want my head to be clear for our first meeting.”

Max sat back in his chair. “You haven’t met her yet? And you're attending all these parties?”

Alex winced. His friend had a point. He had treated this search a bit more like a military operation rather than an organic experience. “I’ve nothing better to do.”

Max chuckled. “Fair enough.” Then he gave Alex another smile. “But I’m fairly certain that I saw Miss Charlotte’s name on our guest list. If you truly want some time with her, you should come. Then Marigold can cease worrying and you will get some time with your prospective lady.”

That was an excellent plan. “Tell Marigold I’d be delighted to attend.”

“Good,” Max reached across the table and slapped his arm. “We’re leaving this afternoon if you’d like to join us.”

He gave a nod of assent. A weekend with Charlotte was just what he needed.

4

Abigail’s mother was still muttering her displeasure when they disembarked the carriage the next afternoon. “You don’t even like picnics.”

“But Charlotte Ainsworth does,” Abigail murmured as she straightened her skirts and took in the scene at the park before them. As usual, they’d arrived fashionably late and a sea of white dresses dotted the lawns. Charlotte was one of those specks of white.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Mother.” She turned to watch her mother adjust her bonnet. She looked perfectly put together even though she’d been griping all morning about attending a function so early in the day after a ball.

Abigail wasn’t exactly delighted about it either but if Charlotte would be here then so would the major, and she’d spent the better part of last night coming up with all the many reasons as to why this was the perfect plan.

Well, perhaps not perfect. But it was a plan, and right now any plan was better than nothing. But truly, she had no intention of spending this season as the predator on the hunt. No. This season, she’d be the prey. She’d set the bait and have the eligible lords of the ton seeking her out before the week was through.

Her plan? Remind them that she was eligible. Not just eligible, but in demand. Wanted. After the humiliating rejection by Merrick’s brother, Lord Tilling, and then several seasons with no successful match, she was forced to admit she’d lost some of her lustre.

She wasn’t desperate, by any means. And she was certainly not on the shelf.

But she did have some work ahead of her to make her reputation shine. To do so, she needed to visibly remind those preening peacocks that she was not to be taken for granted. Men were driven by competition just as much as women, she’d found, and there was nothing like seeing something one wants stolen away to remind one of its worth.

She straightened her gloves and glanced over at her mother. “Are you ready?”

Her mother sighed with weary resignation. “After you, dear.”

They walked in silence until she spotted him. An honest-to-goodness grin tugged at her lips at the sight of Major Mayfield looking so strikingly male in the midst of so much frippery. Even wearing a frown of concentration, he looked absurdly kind as he leaned down