A Hero for Lady Abigail (A Wallflower's Wish #5) - Maggie Dallen Page 0,26

But she’s still not your equal.

Not your equal. That had been her mother’s favorite refrain during that first season. It seemed no one was Abigail’s equal, in her mother’s opinion. No lady, at least. But that was before Abigail had failed to snare the heir to a marquisate. Now her mother’s lectures were more focused on how Abigail ought not be so fastidious in her choice of husband. How she could not afford to be so choosy. For all her talk of Abigail’s good breeding, it seemed her mother had little regard for her daughter’s worth.

So no, her mother would not have condoned an apology, even if an apology was in order. Abigail sighed as one question overrode all others. What would Major Mayfield have done in her place?

The thought made her still and the horse faltered slightly as if it could sense the shift in her. The answer was obvious. He would have done what was right. He would have apologized because it was the right thing to do.

She sighed again and nudged the horse to keep moving. Such a good man deserved someone better than Charlotte Ainsworth. But he was a grown man, and he knew his own mind, so if Charlotte was who he wanted, she was who he ought to have.

Her heart gave a rebellious kick to her ribs. She ignored it.

Besides, maybe the major would be a good influence on the girl. Charlotte was young enough, and not nearly as intelligent as one might hope. Definitely not as headstrong as Abigail. Which meant there was a chance for Charlotte yet, she supposed. She could change. Maybe even become the sort of woman he deserved.

For the major’s sake, she hoped so.

For her own…?

Well, she’d do best not to go down that path. She had her own troubles to worry about, and her own future to plan. She had a husband to hunt, and Major Mayfield had made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in being her prey.

9

Alex gritted his teeth—the molars in the back, anyhow. The front teeth were clenched in a forced smile.

Charlotte sighed for the third time in as many minutes. “Why do all the roses have to look exactly the same?”

Alex did not mention that there were differences if one looked closely enough, nor did he point out that one should never complain about being surrounded by such splendor. The garden was excellent.

“Perhaps you’d be more interested in the wooded trail I see just over there?” he asked, pointing. “It may offer a larger variety of flora and fauna.”

Charlotte sniffed, her tone petulant. “If you think so.”

“I think that an excellent idea,” Lady Ainsworth called from behind them.

Alex was certain that meant Charlotte did not agree with her mother but as he’d offered a solution to her complaint, she was having a difficult time creating a reason to not take the path.

He’d like nothing more than return to the house as well, but he’d see the outing through. They’d barely been walking for a quarter hour.

They entered the cool shade of the woods and he drew in a deep breath of quiet air.

Was Abigail out riding? He’d guess that she was. It had taken nearly an hour to collect Charlotte and begin their stroll. He wished he’d slept more the night before, it would have done wonders for his patience.

But as he’d predicted, he’d been up half the night, thinking about Abigail. About the way she felt in his arms. Or how he always felt renewed in her presence. Sometimes challenged, but always alive.

She’d looked stunning in her dark green riding habit she’d worn when they’d bumped into one another.

Just the memory of her soft curves pressed against him made his muscles tighten all over again.

If she’d planned a full-scale attack on his senses, she was doing an excellent job. And honestly, he wouldn’t put it past her. Tactics were her strength.

But there was no more malice when he considered this point. In fact, he admired the trait greatly.

In fact, the more he thought on her, the more he wondered why he’d dismissed her upon their first meeting.

She was a woman of substance.

And honestly, she made this party and, he suspected, much of life, enjoyable.

The question remained, could she become a lady of real merit? Kind as she was strong? It was a great deal to ask, he knew. But deep in his gut, excitement bubbled. It was possible.

And as for himself...he looked over at Charlotte.

“Walking is dreadfully tiring,” she whined.