Page 60 of Never Dare a Duke
“Do you know where Lady Gwen is?” Elizabeth continued, looking past Abigail as if they might be together. “The carriages have returned for us.”
“I’ll find her. She is visiting parishioners with Mr. Wesley.”
Elizabeth grinned. “Who would have thought an earl’s daughter and a vicar would make a match? And to think I invited her because I thought she was interested in being a duchess!”
Abigail put a finger to her lips. “They are not a match yet, so please do not speak to others of it. I promise I will let you know what happens!”
At Rose Cottage, Abigail found beautiful Gwen, an earl’s daughter, sitting at the bedside of a sick, elderly woman. Instead of reading from a book at a distance, she was bathing the woman’s brow from a basin of water. Abigail remained silent for a moment, looking at the sweet tableau—from Mr. Wesley’s wondrous and dazed smile, to the old man’s gratitude, to the sick woman’s look of peace. Perhaps Gwen really did understand—and appreciate—the lot of a vicar’s wife. Now if only Mr. Wesley appreciated Gwen enough to do something about it!
As they walked back to join the others at the carriage, Gwen chattered on about how good it felt to be helpful. And then she proceeded right from that into analyzing the vicar’s response and if they could have a future together. Abigail’s head was spinning from all the speculation.
“Oh, that reminds me!” Gwen suddenly interrupted herself. “Mr. Wesley and I were speaking about the ghost stories, and putting together the exact number of times the ghost was seen in each place, and do you know what we discovered?”
Abigail shook her head.
“He was seen the most in the duke’s dressing room! Perhaps he was a servant to a duke—or a duke himself. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
“You’re bound to win the prize, Gwen,” Abigail said, but found it difficult to concentrate on the game when her mind wouldn’t stay off the other journalist. She could not let someone else steal her article idea—and treat the family far worse than she would.
After dinner that evening, instead of Christopher’s stealing Abigail away to the terrace, his sister had the honor. Although Christopher was being polite, Abigail thought he was not as solicitous toward her as usual, which was encouraging the Ladies May and Theodosia. And the duchess was looking between Abigail and her son in confusion. Abigail was glad to escape.
Clouds covered the moon, and if not for the lit torches, they would have had a difficult time seeing.
“The sky threatens rain,” Elizabeth mused, as they walked arm in arm.
Abigail nodded, saying nothing, hoping to encourage the girl to reveal her thoughts. When Elizabeth didn’t speak, Abigail eventually asked, “What did the duke think about the journalist’s arriving tomorrow?”
“I did not tell him.”
Abigail gave her a skeptical look.
“He will not be here,” Elizabeth insisted. “Of course he doesn’t care for publicity of any kind, but it’s just an amusing story about the ghost.”
“Perhaps he does not want to turn Madingley Court into a destination for ghost hunters.”
“I had not thought of that. I will make very sure that Mr. Walton understands that we are just having fun. There’s certainly no real proof of a ghost.”
Abigail was doubtful, and she knew that if Elizabeth wasn’t going to say anything to Christopher, she would have to. Besides his need for privacy, she had her own need to see thatshewas the only one writing a story on the duke.
“Oh, you will think me silly,” Elizabeth said, after they’d walked a few more minutes, “but I could not help seeing how…close you and my brother have become.”
Abigail reminded herself that Christopher’s sister was innocent—more innocent than Abigail felt lately. “We are friends,” she said with caution.
Elizabeth chuckled. “That is quite an accomplishment where my brother is concerned. He is a very private man.”
“And yet you and your mother are so very open,” Abigail said. “Why is your brother different?”
“Well, he is the duke, of course, and he has always taken that responsibility seriously.”
“As I’ve been able to tell, from what he’s told me about his search for a duchess.”
Elizabeth gaped at her. “He talked to you about that?”
“Well…yes. I think he felt comfortable doing so, because we both know I am not someone he will be considering.”
“But…he has made it seem as if…why—” Elizabeth threw up her hands. “Oh, I do not want to hurt your feelings!”
“You are not.” Abigail hesitated, but if she wanted Elizabeth to trust her, she needed to know some of the truth. And she liked Elizabeth, and wanted to lie as little as possible to her. “The duke and I have come to an understanding that has made us friends. Perhaps it…helped keep him free of several of your other…female guests.”
