A Hero for Lady Abigail (A Wallflower's Wish #5) - Maggie Dallen Page 0,6

briefest second before they continued on and her partner spun her away.

But Alex watched her go and Abigail followed his gaze. “Miss Charlotte?” she asked, craning her neck.

He was being rude again and that wouldn’t do. “To be fair, we’ve not actually been introduced.”

Abigail pressed her lips together as she looked at him again. “That makes sense. Anyone who is acquainted with her would not be so interested.”

He nearly stopped on the floor. His movements halted for the briefest second before he continued on, spinning Abigail in a wide arc. Her words had been rude to say the least and they affirmed his impression, not of Miss Charlotte, but of Abigail. “She seems a lady of the first water to me.”

Abigail laughed and the sound rankled along his nerves. “Now it’s truly clear you’ve not met her.”

He swallowed down the barbs that rose to his lips. No, he’d not met her, but he’d been watching her, and Charlotte appeared nothing if not quiet and sweet. But he’d not contradict Abigail when he had no facts to prove her wrong. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

Abigail shook her head. “Do you remember when you said you didn’t need to be saved?”

The music was fading, the song drawing to a close. He nearly sighed in relief. “I remember.”

She moved closer and her scent wrapped about him. Not only did her eyes look like the color of a French lake but she smelled like the fields of summer flowers that had bordered the Alps, sweet and fresh with the barest hint of dew still clinging to the stems. Her eyes sparkled again as her chin tilted up to look at him, he had the feeling that he might drown in those eyes.

Which was absurd. He didn’t like her. She’d just been rude to a perfectly lovely girl.

“Well, I was right. You do need a rescue. Desperately.”

He grimaced, slowing as the final strains of music died. “I can assure you, Lady Abigail, that as a veteran of the war, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Her lips spread into a wide grin, the sort that made her look fresh and innocent. The kind that might make him forget her true nature. “I’ve no doubt about that, but even the bravest men can fall victim to the wrong woman.”

That was not what was happening here. He was certain of that.

“Thank you for an interesting dance, Lady Abigail.” He stepped away, giving a short bow. “I’d escort you back to your family but I’m not certain I know who they are.”

“That’s all right,” she waved toward a woman who stood just a few feet away. The other woman looked nearly identical to Abigail and it briefly occurred to him that the siren before him would keep her fine looks for years to come. “My mother is just there.”

“Well, in that case, I bid you adieu.” He bowed again and turned to go. Dancing with Abigail, he had to confess, had been interesting...arresting even. But it was not an experience he planned to repeat. She was the sort of woman who stirred trouble and he was looking for anything but.

“I’ll see you again soon, Major.” She dipped into a curtsey.

He didn’t reply as he started toward Charlotte once again. But Alex doubted he would see Abigail Purewater ever again.

3

The poor man. Abigail watched him go. Off to pursue the wrong lady. Not that Abigail was the right lady, but even so—a man like him deserved better than that simpering simpleton Charlotte.

“Dearest, you two made quite the pair,” her mother’s voice cooed behind her. “Once the poor man resigned himself to a dance with you.”

Abigail stiffened but she did not take her eyes off the major. Poor fellow had missed another chance with Charlotte as the young lady in question had disappeared in the direction of the retiring rooms just as the major approached.

“I do not know where I failed you, Abigail. How could I have raised such a brazen young lady?”

Her mother continued, but for once Abigail was well able to ignore the sharp barbs. She even managed to avoid sniping back that her mother hadn’t raised her at all. A long string of nannies and governesses had done that. So if she were brazen—and she was—she had no problem admitting that—her mother deserved neither the blame nor the credit.

She drew out her fan and used it as a decoy to hide her keen interest in Major Mayfield. Not that there was much to see.