Page 17 of Never Dare a Duke
Today’s luncheon was to be a picnic in the park, Lady Elizabeth announced, then a tour of the grounds, including the ruins of an ancient castle, the original stronghold of the Cabots when they were mere earls. There was certainly enough history to sponsor an occasional ghost. Abigail saw the duke’s lack of reaction to the announcement, and she imagined he was planning ways to escape.
And then she lost sight of him as Gwen took her arm and hurried her down the corridor at the end of the crowd of guests.
“Where have you been?” Gwen asked with quiet urgency.
Abigail frowned at her, and whispered, “You know what I am doing. I’ve been trying to interview the servants, and not a single one would speak to me about the family.”
“You cannot be surprised.”
“No,” Abigail agreed heavily. “But I had to try. I will have to think of another method to encourage people to talk.”
“Well, right now, you have to listen to what I’ve been doing about the ghost.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Gwen, you cannot believe that I—”
“Just listen! Mr. Wesley says—”
“The vicar? Is that who you spent your morning with?”
To Abigail’s amazement, Gwen blushed again. Side by side, they followed the others through the main door outside and down the stairs into the courtyard. Though the sun was shining through dappled, fluffy clouds, Gwen continued to hold Abigail’s arm as if to ward off a chill.
“We were both in the library together,” Gwen continued, “and Mr. Wesley had managed to find the one remaining book on the Cabots, a very ancient one about the old castle ruins and the start of the family.”
“The one remaining book?”
“Those silly girls beat us there,” Gwen said, tossing her head toward the ladies vying for the duke’s attention. “They’ve decided to work together, the better to keep an eye on each other where the duke is concerned. They’ll probably hide all the books, so the rest of us can’t use them.”
“Deviousandintelligent,” Abigail said. “I’m impressed.”
Gwen sighed and looked ahead toward the duke, who was escorting his sister across the wide green expanse of lawn. “That poor man.”
“Well, I imagine you’ll have him trailing you soon if you keep avoiding him. It will be a refreshing change from the other two. But there is the vicar,” Abigail amended, seeing Gwen’s narrow-eyed look.
“We are just helping each other research the ghost,” Gwen insisted, “since I couldn’t find you.”
“I will be a poor teammate,” Abigail said regretfully.
“And I understand why. I’ve told Mr. Wesley that you are not in the best of health, that you suffer headaches and require rest. He’s quite concerned about you.”
“Do I look ill?” Abigail demanded with exasperation. “What will he think when I keep reappearing in the best of health?”
“That your headache is gone. Try to look fatigued occasionally. Meanwhile, I’ll do our research. It is rather fun, you know.”
Abigail grinned. “Especially with the handsome Mr. Wesley.”
“It is not like that,” Gwen said hotly. “We will simply be helping each other.”
To Abigail’s surprise, the walk went on far longer, down a wide path in the center of the sculpted gardens. At the edge of the park, a pavilion had been set up, facing a large pond, the woodland beyond, and the castle ruins on the water’s far edge. Blankets had been spread out for the guests, along with several chairs for those who did not wish to sit on the ground. Lord Swarthbeck, Lord Greenwich, and their wives sat with the other older guests around a table.
In the rush to be near the duke—or for the men, near Lady Elizabeth—Abigail found herself sharing a blanket with Gwen and Lord Keane, who did not stoop to open pursuit even if Lady Elizabeth was the sister of a duke. At the refreshment table, they filled their plates with pigeon pie, salad, and jam puffs, then returned to their blanket, where Lord Keane sprawled on his side to eat, while Gwen and Abigail folded their legs beneath them to sit. Ginger beer in flasks slaked their thirst.
Though arrogant, Lord Keane could be an amusing man, and they laughed their way through the meal. Abigail stole occasional glances at the duke, who naturally shared a blanket with the two young ladies. Unlike Lord Keane, His Grace did not seem to be at all relaxed, although his expression was pleasant as he spoke to his admirers.
“It is a shame he cannot enjoy it,” Lord Keane said.
Abigail turned her head in surprise. “You mean the duke?”
“Yes. Wasn’t that who you were looking at?” he said, his lips turned up in the faintest smirk.
