so weak as all that.”
Abigail nearly laughed aloud at the understatement. Lily’s back was still to her as she spoke to the poor footman who was no doubt torn between Lord Merrick ’s overprotective orders to watch his wife and his wife’s stubborn commands that she did not need their help.
“If you’re sure, Lady Merrick,” the poor man murmured.
“I am certain.” Lily’s voice was filled with triumph. She’d won and everyone knew it.
Abigail hovered near the stable entrance, torn between fleeing a potentially unpleasant encounter and laughing because her old friend hadn’t changed one bit, even now that she was a proper married lady.
Before Abigail had a chance to do either, Lily turned and spotted her. Her triumphant smiled faded into a scowl so quickly it made Abigail’s head spin.
Lily always had been emotional like that. The redhead was quick to passionate anger, even quicker to raucous laughter, and could flip between the two faster than most people could form a smile.
She waited for Lily to speak first. Years had gone by since their falling out, but as Lily was not one to let time heal all wounds, Abigail doubted she was hated any less today than she had been during their first season. Even winning the man of her dreams wouldn’t make Lily forgive and forget.
So she waited. But Lily narrowed her eyes in one telling glare of disdain before turning her back to Abigail as if she did not exist.
Abigail swallowed hard, her expression never changing as she followed Lily’s lead and spoke to the footman who’d chased after her.
“Lady Abigail, your mother asked that I—”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, her voice colder and harsher than she’d intended. She tried to soften it with a small smile but she saw the way Lily froze for an instant and heard her loud sigh of disgust.
“I’m sorry, my lady but I must insist.”
Abigail tilted her chin up higher as a stableboy led her toward one of the mares designated for guests to ride during their stay. She ran a hand over the horse’s neck, letting the feel and sound of the animal calm her racing heart as she waited for Lily to leave. She ignored the footmen, sure if he followed, she’d quickly lose him on the trail. Unlike Lily, Abigail would not escape the footmen’s attempt to chaperone. There were definite advantages to married life.
Lily finally mounted as Abigail watched from the corner of her eyes. Her chest was too tight, her features frozen in a cold, hard mask until at last her former friend nudged her horse into a canter out of the stables.
Only when she was gone could Abigail breathe. Resting her head lightly against the mare’s, she allowed herself a moment of solace as the horse huffed in her ear. When she and her horse were out on the meadow, heading toward a line of trees that edged the property’s wooded land, she let out a long sigh of relief as she kicked her horse faster. In minutes, she’d left the unhappy footman behind and hopefully that was the one and only time she’d have to face her old friend this weekend.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, to be honest. They’d exchanged far more brutal barbs when they’d encountered one another in the past. Perhaps finally admitting she loved Merrick, and having his love in return, had softened Lily.
She let out a sharp laugh at the thought of a softened Lily and sent the birds in the branches above her scattering at the sound.
No, she could not imagine a softer Lily. But she was happier, that much was clear, and that was all for the best. Lily deserved happiness.
Heaven knew Abigail did not.
The thought was sobering and she fell into a thoughtful silence as her horse plodded along a path through the woods, knowing far better than she where the trail was heading. The rocking motion of the horse beneath her helped her heart to settle and her mind had a chance to replay that horrid encounter with the perspective of hindsight.
Perhaps she ought to have broken the silence in the stables. She winced at the thought. And said what? She had no idea. I’m sorry? She scoffed. Too little too late. Lily would only have laughed in her face.
She could practically hear her mother’s voice reminding her that a duke’s daughter apologized to no one. Certainly not a no one like Lily.
Lady Merrick might have won herself a title, her mother would say.