The Secret of Pembrooke Park(100)
He looked at her, verses of confusion and apology passing behind his blue eyes. Though perhaps she was only imagining it, and he was simply smitten and perhaps embarrassed at his reaction. And perhaps already regretting the warm words and caresses he’d bestowed on the pretty girl’s older, plainer sister.
Chapter 21
How was it that with her mother and sister in residence, the house felt emptier than before? And Abigail felt lonelier as well, what with William and Miles gone, and having to share her father with two others. He kept busy showing his wife and younger daughter the grounds and village, listening to Louisa play the pianoforte and to his wife’s endless accounts of invitations received, gentlemen they’d met, balls and concerts and routs they’d attended.
Abigail had planned to wait at least a week before checking the note she’d left behind the loose brick in the garden wall. But two days after her mother and sister’s arrival, restless and needing a reprieve from all the talk of London, she could resist no longer and walked out to take a look. She strolled, hoping to appear at her leisure, taking a turn around the grounds and not bent on any specific purpose. She told herself she was foolish to feel self-conscious, as though watchful eyes followed her movements. But even so, the hairs at the back of her neck prickled. Just the cool breeze, she told herself. No one knows or cares what I’m doing.
She rounded the potting shed, feigning interest in a blooming vine. She ought to have brought a basket and shears to aid her ruse. Next time she would. She looked at the pallets and planks and bricks, but all seemed as she had left it. She checked behind the loose brick. Her letter was still there. Giving up, she returned to the house, steeling herself for more Mozart and more tales of Louisa’s conquests.
Abigail went back out to the garden the next day, and the next, but her letter remained. Miles returned and was at his charming best, flattering both Louisa and their mother in equal turns, and easily winning their affections. Even now the three of them were ensconced in Mamma’s bedchamber, rehashing the season, and laughing together over some of the dreadful new fashions in the new edition of The Lady’s Monthly Museum Miles had given them.
Dressed in spencer, bonnet, and gloves, Abigail decided to head out for a walk alone. But as she strolled along the drive, she saw Gilbert Scott crossing the bridge on foot.
Heart lifting, she raised a hand in greeting. “Gilbert!”
“Abby!” He returned her wave with a smile and hurried through the gate and across the drive to join her.
She said, “I didn’t know you had returned.”
“I’ve come down for a few days to oversee the construction at Hunts Hall. The workmen will begin digging the foundation the day after tomorrow. My design, my drawings, and I get to see them implemented right before my eyes. This won’t be like in school, winning awards for conceptual drawings. Something I designed will actually be built and stand forever. Or at least, for many years—if I’ve done my job right.”
“It is very exciting. I am so happy for you, Gilbert.”
“Isn’t this what we always talked about when we were children? Dreamed of?”
She nodded, and their gazes caught and held in a long, fond look.
He grasped her hand. “Come and watch us break ground, Abby. I want you to be there. Mrs. Morgan has even planned a picnic.”
Pleasure warmed Abigail’s heart. She dipped her head to hide her flush of pleasure. “I would love to be there. But before I accept I should tell you that—”
“Gilbert!”
He turned his head, and Abigail followed suit. There in the open window of her mother’s bedchamber stood Louisa, waving vigorously, her wide smile evident even from a distance.
“. . . that Louisa is here,” Abigail finished with a lame little laugh. Did he know? Is that why he’d come?
“So I see,” Gilbert murmured, his expression difficult to discern. If he was delighted, he hid it well. “I didn’t realize she and your mother were coming so soon. I thought they intended to remain in London through the end of the month.”
“So did we. Apparently their plans changed. Or Aunt Bess grew tiresome.”
“Ah.” He nodded his understanding, having met their aunt on a few occasions.
Abigail said gently, “So I will understand perfectly if you wish to invite Louisa instead. I won’t mind.”
He grimaced. “You know Louisa has never shown any interest in architecture.”
Did he sincerely prefer her company—in this instance, at least—or was he simply too polite to retract his invitation?
“True,” Abigail allowed. “But she has shown interest in a certain architect.”
He ducked his head, chuckling awkwardly. “Touché.”
Louisa bounded out through the front door, and they both turned toward her. Abigail said to him in a private aside, “Shall I leave you?”
“No, stay. Please.”
Louisa reached them, smile still in place. “Good day to you, Mr. Scott,” she said, in mock formality. “What a happy coincidence to see you here.” Her eyes twinkled gaily, as though he’d paid her a great compliment, or as though there was a secret between them.
Abigail hoped Gilbert hadn’t prevaricated when he’d feigned surprise in discovering Louisa in residence.