making the endless loop.
Surely there was someone here who was more pathetic than she was. There had to be someone who wouldn’t walk away the moment she drew near.
As gracefully as she was able, she angled her head left and then right, looking for someone. Anyone.
Sir Geoffrey.
She inwardly winced. He was standing near the punch bowl doing much the same as Abigail. Eyeing the crowd, looking as though he were perfectly content to stand there in silence as the rest of the room carried on with their entertainment.
A flicker of something unpleasant had her straightening. It wasn’t guilt, exactly. Though Major Mayfield’s words from the previous day did come back to her and give her pause.
Yes, all right, fine. Perhaps it was a bit of shame that had her taking tentative steps in his direction.
Was she really going to do this? After all, the only thing more laughable than Abigail was Sir Geoffrey. But that thought had her taking another step, and then another. Was this...empathy she was feeling?
Hmm. How unpleasant. All she could think was, Is this how Sir Geoffrey spends every outing?
And if so, why on earth did he still insist on attending events where he was so clearly not wanted?
Abigail very nearly tripped over her own two feet at that thought. Her fixed smile turned somewhat genuine and entirely rueful. Excellent question, Abigail. Why do you insist on attending these events?
It was Lily’s voice she’d heard, clear as day. Almost as if they were still the dearest of friends and knew without a doubt what the other girl would say. Once upon a time they had been able to finish one another’s sentences. They’d shared the same brain, Lily’s mother had once teased.
Her smile faded. But that time was long gone, of course.
With that maudlin thought, she found herself standing beside the old bore— No. She thought of what Major Mayfield had said and corrected herself. The old war hero. “Hello, Sir Geoffrey. Are you having a pleasant evening?”
His head snapped up with a start and he blinked at her. “Pardon me?”
She just barely held back a sigh. If she was going to have to stand here and shout to be heard all night, then she was already regretting her decision to do this. She raised her voice slightly. “I asked if you were having a pleasant evening.”
His brows arched. “There’s no need to shout, Lady Abigail. I’m standing right here.”
She clamped her lips shut but then… Wait a moment. Was he teasing? She was certain she caught a glimmer of mischief in his eyes and she narrowed hers in turn.
He turned back to the crowd with a sigh. “To answer your question, no. I am not enjoying my evening. These house parties are tedious and dull. Heaven knows why I still feel the need to attend.”
She blinked in surprise. “That’s shockingly honest.”
“Mmm.” He agreed with a nod. “I’ve often found life, in general, would be much more pleasant if people were more honest.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Events like these, for instance. They’d be different indeed if people actually spoke their minds.”
Her lips curved up in the first real smile of the evening as she tried to imagine it. “This drawing room would be filled with blood and fisticuffs before you could blink.”
He let out a harsh bark of laughter that had the people standing around them turning to stare. She ought to be mortified, she supposed. Now everyone would know that she’d been reduced to talking to boring old Sir Geoffrey.
But then again, boring old Sir Geoffrey was proving to be far less boring than she’d imagined.
“So then, Lady Abigail…” He turned to her with a sharp gaze. “What have you done that you’re stuck over here with me?”
“Oh, I—that is, I don’t mind—er—” She stopped her flustered babbling at the sight of that wicked laughter in his eyes once more. She exhaled loudly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He chuckled and turned back to the crowd. “Don’t try to play the fool with me, dear. I’ve been watching from the wings longer than you have. You’re no one’s fool.”
Her lips quirked up as she regarded the older man.
He wagged a finger in her direction. “It’s that big brain of yours that got you into trouble, I’d bet.”
“It did not.” She paused. “It was my lack of morals.”
He arched his brows, his eyes lit with amusement rather than judgment.
“My bad manners,” she added for good measure.
“Well, at least you’re not