The Secret of Pembrooke Park(147)

She wore a luminous green-and-white gown with a beguiling neckline and a ribbon sash under her bosom which accentuated the fullness above and slenderness below. Her hair was piled in a high mound of soft curls, flattering her delicate features and making her eyes seem larger. Twin spirals danced along each cheek, emphasizing her fine cheekbones and the heart shape of her face. Her dark eyes shone like chocolate, her small lips pleasingly pink. He drew in a ragged breath. Had he actually kissed those lips once upon a time? His chest tightened at the memory.

At her neck sparkled an emerald necklace which drew his attention to her long pale neck, the fine delicate collarbones he’d give anything to kiss . . .

Stop it, he told himself. But his thoughts refused to yield. This was the woman he loved. The woman he wished to marry. To be one with. Such feelings were not wrong; they were a gift. But did she feel the same? He glanced at Gilbert Scott standing to his right. He, too, had stopped and stared, not dragging his gaze from Abigail for all her sister’s tugging on his arm.

Did Abigail still nurture feelings for the man? William’s happiness dimmed at the thought.

Unaccustomed to having so many people looking at her, Abigail took a deep breath and reminded herself she was among friends. She glimpsed Louisa leaving Gilbert’s side to talk with Andrew Morgan. And there were her parents, and Susan and Edward Lloyd. She did not yet see Mr. Morris but, then, wasn’t all that eager to do so.

Her mother and father walked forward to welcome her.

He took her hands. “My dear, you look beautiful.”

Abigail smiled, self-conscious but pleased at his praise. “Thank you, Papa.”

“I am glad you decided to come,” her mother said. “I began to fear you had worn yourself out and would stay home. I am sorry I left all of that to you. It is only that you are so capable. But I shall endeavor not to shift my responsibilities to you in future. It isn’t fair to you.”

“Thank you, Mamma.”

Her mother’s eyes fastened on the gemstones. “I see the jeweler delivered the necklace at last.”

“Yes, Marcel brought it up to me not long after you left.”

“Louisa will be disappointed.”

Abigail met her mother’s look with a gentle one of her own but made no offer to remove the necklace. And no apology.

Her sister would have many other chances to wear it, Abigail knew. Tonight was her turn.

Louisa approached, gaze riveted on the necklace. “You are wearing it?”

“Yes. The jeweler delivered it after you left. Marcel brought it up to me.”

“And did your hair as well, I see.”

“Yes,” Abigail acknowledged, calmly holding her sister’s gaze and ignoring the slight irritation glittering in her fair eyes.

“Well . . .” Louisa seemed torn between vexation and reluctant admiration. “It looks very well with your new dress, I own.”

“Thank you, Louisa.”

“In fact, I don’t mind saying you look very pretty tonight, Abigail.”

“Thank you. That means a great deal, coming from the most beautiful girl in the room.”

The two sisters shared a tentative smile, and then Louisa pressed her hand. “I’d best not keep Mr. Morgan waiting. He says he has news to share.”

Yes, Abigail thought. But not the news her sister probably hoped for.

When Louisa walked away, William took a deep breath and approached Abigail. How elegant the well-dressed creature looked. It made him miss the bedraggled girl in mud-spattered wool cape with damp hair falling from its pins. But he couldn’t deny she looked beautiful.

“Miss Foster. How pleased I am to see you. I began to fear I’d begged an invitation in vain.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Mr. Chapman. William. I am pleased to see you as well. I’d heard someone from Easton was attending, but I dared not hope it was you.” She gave him a soft smile. “Had I known, I would have come sooner.”

His heart warmed. “Then I am very glad indeed I begged that invitation.”

Her smile widened. “Andrew Morgan is here as well, I see.”

“Yes. I am in Town as his guest. He is here purchasing wedding clothes.”

“Wedding clothes?”

“Yes. He and Leah—excuse me, I shall never grow accustomed to calling her Eleanor—are recently engaged and soon to be married. I thought you knew.”

“I hoped, but I had not yet heard the news.”

“No doubt my sister has written to you and I have stolen her surprise. She shall box my ears when I get home.”

“I think she would forgive you anything.” She added, “Have his parents come round to the idea, now that they know who Leah is?”

“Yes. Though, after Leah’s brush with death, I don’t think anything would have stopped Andrew from making his feelings known—and making up for lost time.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Miss Foster, speaking of making up for lost time, I wonder if I might have a private word . . . ?”

Her dark brows rose. “Of . . . course.”

Gilbert Scott suddenly appeared between them. “Abby, how beautiful you look. I almost didn’t recognize you when you came in.”

“Thank you, Gilbert.”

“And Mr. Chapman. When Miss Pembrooke is ready to discuss refurbishments for Pembrooke Park, tell her I would be honored to offer my services.”