It Takes a Scandal (24 page)

“Well done, Miss Weston!” Lord Atherton strode up, regarding her with respect. “He’s a wily creature.”

She laughed. “And slippery! We’re all well versed in chasing Milo by now.” The puppy licked her chin at the sound of his name. Abigail grimaced. It was just her luck to be chasing the dog every time she met a gentleman.

“At least he’s an appreciative captive.” Atherton grinned, scratching Milo’s head. The puppy struggled to lick his hand, too.

“He made it into the woods once and got caught in a bramble bush. If he’s so appreciative, he could stop running away at all.”

He laughed. “Perhaps it’s not in the nature of puppies.” He fell in step beside her as she walked back toward her mother, now joined by Lady Samantha and Penelope. “May I ask a very presumptuous question?”

“I suppose,” she said in surprise.

He glanced toward the woods. “Talking of these woods and the grotto has made me long for one more walk. Might I have permission?”

“Of course!” Properly he ought to ask Papa or Mama, but there was no chance that either of her parents would deny the request. Papa would probably invite Lord Atherton to walk anywhere on Hart House grounds he liked, including inside the house.

“Thank you.” He tilted his head to see her better. Her face felt warm. There was no mistaking the admiration in his eyes. Gentlemen had admired her before, but she wasn’t used to seeing it so unabashed and overt. “Would tomorrow be acceptable? I don’t wish to intrude on any plans your family might have made.”

“Oh no,” she assured him. “We haven’t any engagements tomorrow.”

His smile grew wider. “Excellent.”

They had reached the others. Lady Samantha expressed her relief that Milo wasn’t hurt, and patted his head. Lord Atherton helped his sister into the carriage, and swung into the tall black stallion’s saddle; the horse had calmed down now that Milo no longer yipped at him. Mama waited until they were halfway down the drive before turning to her daughters.

“What a charming gentleman!”

“Which of us do you think he’ll marry?” asked Penelope gravely. “Oh, how happy Papa will be that he was proven right about buying this house!”

Mama raised her eyes to the heavens. “If Lord Atherton—or anyone!—asked for you, miss, I’d force your father to agree! Good riddance, I’d say!”

“I don’t think you’d have to push Papa very hard.”

Mama just gave her a dark look as she took the puppy from Abigail. “Thank you for saving him yet again, Abby.” She snuggled her pet into her arms. “Are you hurt, little Milo? You must stop running outside like that. Let’s make sure you haven’t got anything caught in your fur.” She went back inside the house, still cooing over the dog.

“Thank you for saving my precious darling, Abby,” Penelope mimicked their mother’s voice. “I adore him more than either of you!”

Abigail choked on a laugh. “Not true! Although he doesn’t have your impertinence.”

Her sister’s eyes gleamed. “Speaking of that . . . You were very deep in conversation with Lord Atherton when I came out with Lady Samantha. What were you speaking of?”

“The dog.” Abigail kept her smile fixed on her face as she watched the guests depart. “And you thought Richmond would be dull.”

“Lord Atherton will have to provide a great deal more excitement to cancel out the rest of Richmond,” her sister retorted. “Still, he’s a far more attractive diversion than I expected to find here.”

At the end of the drive, Lord Atherton looked back, right at her, and tipped his hat. Lord, Penelope was right, Abigail thought in a bit of a daze. He was blindingly handsome.

“He asked to come walk in the woods tomorrow,” she confided in a low voice. “I said he could, of course; won’t Papa be so pleased?”

Penelope raised one eyebrow. “Did he really? Well, well.”

“What?” She frowned at her sister’s expression.

“Perhaps he won’t want to walk alone.” Penelope assumed a very prim and proper expression. “If you don’t feel like making the sacrifice, I might find it in my heart to escort him—safely away from your grotto, of course.”

Abigail snorted with laughter. “A truly loving sister!”

Penelope just continued looking pleased. “I trust we shall see much, much more of the handsome Lord Atherton.”

Chapter 15

T
rue to his word, Lord Atherton came the next morning.

Mama’s eyebrows rose when he was announced. Penelope shot Abigail a look of delight. The man himself gave them all a blinding smile when the butler showed him in. Warm greetings were exchanged, and then he turned to Mama. “If it’s not an imposition, I hoped to take a stroll in your woods, ma’am.”

“Of course, sir!” She smiled at Abigail. “My daughter mentioned you might. You’re very welcome to walk there anytime you like.”

“Thank you. Miss Weston told me much the same thing, but I didn’t want to presume upon your kindness by just roaming all over your property,” he explained with an apologetic air.

“Nonsense! Papa would be perfectly content if you did so,” Abigail said with a smile. Her father had been as pleased as punch when she told him of Lord Atherton’s request. “He said you may walk in these woods as often as you like, since they’re so familiar to you.”

“That’s very kind of him.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling. Today he wore regular clothing, and his gray coat made his eyes seem even bluer. “Although I fear he’s too generous; it’s been at least a decade since I roamed these woods. I may become hopelessly lost!”

Mama smiled. “Abigail could direct you to the best paths. She’s very fond of walking in the woods, and knows them quite well.”

“Indeed?” He turned to Abigail. “Miss Weston, would you walk with me?”

There was a moment of ringing silence. Penelope’s face was blank with surprise; Mama’s was bright with delight. Abigail felt her cheeks grow warm. “Penelope has walked with me many times,” she tried to say.

“But her ankle is still tender from the injury she received the last time she walked out,” said her mother. “She was favoring it just this morning.”

Penelope gave a faint shrug and pretended absorption in her embroidery floss. Abigail took a deep breath. “Of course. I’d be happy to walk with you, my lord.”

Lord Atherton’s smile deepened. “How wonderfully kind of you. I worried it would be too great an imposition.”

“Not at all,” she said, blushing harder.

“No, Abigail never turns down a chance of a walk in the woods.” Penelope’s smile was a little barbed. “She knows every path, my lord; you couldn’t become lost if you wanted to.”

Their guest laughed. “The ideal guide! I couldn’t ask for better.”

Abigail, wishing her sister had never invented a twisted ankle—and betting that Penelope regretted it as well now—went to get her bonnet.

“Are you truly fond of the woods?” Lord Atherton asked as they strolled across the grass. Contrary to his claim that he didn’t remember anything, he was leading the way toward the river, away from her usual haunts nearer Montrose Hill. Abigail resisted the urge to glance back up the hill; Sebastian was in Bristol.

“Yes. I like the quiet among the trees.”

He nodded. “I do, too. Well—I should say I appreciate it now. When I was a boy, I most liked their distance from my tutors and lessons.”

“No!” she protested in mock disbelief.

“ ’Tis true,” he admitted with a deep sigh as they reached the shade of the trees. “Many times I slipped out and crossed the river in my small punt, knowing no one would find me here. These trees became, in my imagination, deepest Africa, the wilderness of the Americas, the remotest reaches of the Orient. And since my tutors couldn’t cross the river once I’d taken the punt, I might as well have been there.”

She laughed. “That must have frustrated them to no end!”

“I hope so!” He grinned. “It was worth any punishment.”

“Did you explore alone?”

He hesitated. “Sometimes. Do you usually walk alone?”

“Whenever my sister doesn’t come, which is most of the time.” There was a tree lying across the path, at least two feet in diameter. The bracken was too thick to go around it. Abigail gathered up her skirt to climb over it.

“Do you prefer solitude?” Lord Atherton vaulted over the trunk and held out one hand to her. “Or company, Miss Weston?”

She gave him her hand and stepped up on top of the trunk. “There are benefits to both.”

He held up his other hand and helped her jump down. “There definitely are,” he murmured, not retreating when she landed quite close to him. “But I prefer company, at the moment.” Abigail tipped her head back and almost forgot to breathe at his expression. Was he flirting with her?

“Do you?” Her voice sounded as breathless as she felt.

“Very much so.” His gaze didn’t waver from hers. Abigail felt a little dazed, unable to look away. It was hard to believe he had once been Sebastian’s dearest friend; they were as alike as oil and water, as far as she’d seen. But perhaps she was being too hasty. Lord Atherton was charming and glib and handsome, but he might be more like Sebastian than not, once one got to know him. Sebastian was the very model of a man whose exterior hid more than it revealed about his true self.

She realized he was still holding her hands. At that, she jerked her eyes away and racked her brain for something to say.

“You must have explored Montrose Hill grounds as well,” she blurted out. “When you were acquainted with Mr. Vane.”

Lord Atherton’s arm flexed, but his face didn’t change. “Vane? Oh yes. That was a great many years ago, though. How . . . how did you know we were acquainted?”

“Your sister told me you were once good friends with him,” she rushed on. “As boys. I suppose your search for the grotto must have ranged across his property, too.”

He gave her an odd look. “Yes, I suppose it did. Er . . . Have you met Vane, Miss Weston?”

“Yes.” She tried to keep the memory of their last rendezvous out of mind, but her body remembered. Her nipples grew taut and hard inside her bodice and her heart thumped a little harder. “He’s our neighbor; of course we’ve met him.”

That seemed to surprise him. “He’s grown very reclusive, I was told.”

Instinctively her ire rose. How cruel it was to shun a man, then blame him for being a recluse. “He’s been very cordial to us,” she declared. “The first time I met him was in these woods; he saved my mother’s dog from a bramble bush, and carried Milo home for me because the silly animal was covered in mud and would have ruined my gown.”

“Who would not rescue a damsel in distress?” exclaimed Lord Atherton with a laugh, seeming to relax. “I meant no condemnation of him! I’ve not spent much time in Richmond for several years, and have only the reports of others. Perhaps I was misinformed.”

“Oh.” She smiled a little sheepishly. “Many people aren’t so kind, but I’ve found him perfectly civil. I cannot abide it when people believe every wild rumor and story that flies around.”

“You’re a very wise lady,” he replied. “I once knew him as a brother. We did spend hours in these woods, searching for the lost grotto and generally avoiding our tutors.” He paused again, as if searching for words. “But he’s had a difficult run of luck these last several years. We had a falling out some time ago and haven’t spoken since. I fear he’s no longer the person I once knew.”

“I daresay we all change as we grow,” she said, trying to be diplomatic. “Do you regret the rupture?” She really wanted to ask what had caused it, but was certain he wouldn’t tell her if Lady Samantha had been the reason. On the other hand, he might know more of the truth behind the gossip. He admitted they had once been like brothers, and Abigail longed to know exactly why such a friend would have abandoned Sebastian.

Lord Atherton didn’t answer for a long minute. “It was his wish,” he finally said in a markedly lighter tone. “I respect that. Not all friendships are meant to endure forever.” He raised one hand and pointed at a double oak, the trunks joined into one twisted mass before they split some ten feet off the ground. “I was convinced that tree was planted to mark the grotto. I once dug all around the roots, to no avail.”

Abigail made herself smile. It was nowhere near the grotto, and he wasn’t going to tell her anything she didn’t know. She murmured something vague, and they talked of other things.

And the whole while she walked with Lord Atherton, she wondered what Sebastian was doing in Bristol.

L
ord Atherton soon became a regular—and very popular—visitor at Hart House. During Mama’s barge excursion, he jumped into knee-deep water to rescue Penelope’s hat, which the wind had carried away. He kept his promise to take them to Richmond Hill, complete with picnic, and to Hampton Court, always with a gathering of young people. For the visit to Hampton Court, they were joined by a number of his fellow Guardsmen, out from London for the day, which made for a very merry party that ended with a race to the center of the maze. There was much shrieking, some shouting, and one challenge to a duel—with forks in place of swords—over the last strawberry tart in the hamper. Abigail thought she hadn’t laughed so much in years as she had at the sight of Lord Atherton, eyes narrowed in ferocious concentration beneath his tousled black hair, clashing his fork with that of Lieutenant Cabot. And when Lord Atherton was declared the winner, by virtue of having poked Lieutenant Cabot on the cuff first, he sliced his prize into pieces and shared it among the ladies.