Lord Darlington's Darling (22 page)

Still seated, Abby caught Lady Bethany’s slender wrist
and held her firmly. “I am not letting you go until you
tell me, Bethany.”

Lady Bethany stared down at her for the longest minute,
but in the end seemed to acknowledge that Abby’s
determination outweighed her own will. She collapsed
back onto the settee, nodding dispiritedly. “Very well,
I shall tell you after all. I am eloping with Mr. Farnham.”

Abby reared back in shocked surprise. Recovered,
she exclaimed in dismay, “Bethany, you cannot! You will ruin yourself!”

“I am already ruined,” said Lady Bethany bitterly. At
Abby’s uncomprehending stare, she added impa
tiently, “I may be increasing, Abby! I could have a
baby! There! I’ve said it now. I haven’t dared to say
it before, but now I can, at least to you.” Her beautiful
face whitened, contorting with fear. Urgently, she ex
claimed, “You won’t tell anyone, Abby. Swear to me
that you will not say anything to anyone!”

Completely shaken and shocked, Abby stared at Lady Bethany before she numbly nodded. Al
most incomprehensible thoughts and questions jostled
about in her mind, but one of importance emerged.
“Mr. Farnham? Is he—?”

“Yes.” Lady Bethany shuddered. “He—he is not at all
what I thought, Abby.”

“If you would rather not tell me, I shan’t mind,”
said Abby hurriedly.

“No, no, I want to tell you! I think I shall go mad
if I don’t tell someone,” said Lady Bethany feverishly. “I
was so stupid, you see. After Mama and I and Sylvan
returned home last night from the musicale, I sneaked out of the house and went with Richard to a public
masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens. When we arrived,
I was uneasy, for the masquerade was nothing like I
expected. There were so many vulgar persons and—
and such liberties in manners. I wanted to go home.
I told Richard so, but he only laughed.” Lady Bethany
began speaking faster and faster, as though she
couldn’t get the words out swiftly enough. “He in
sisted that we take a walk in the less-frequented paths. I went with him readily enough because I so disliked my surroundings. But then, when we were alone,
in the dark, he—” Lady Bethany pressed her hand hard to
her lips, obviously overtaken by sharp emotion. When
she could speak again, she gasped, “I feel ill whenever
I think about it!”

Abby slid her arms around Lady Bethany again, the only
constructive thing she could think of to do. “Oh, my
poor Bethany! What you must have been through!”

“You will say it is all my own fault, and you will
be right!” exclaimed Lady Bethany, tears beginning to
course down her cheeks again.

Abby felt helpless. One thing she was certain of and
that was that she was not the best person to help
Lady Bethany. “You must tell your mother. Or your
brother! I am certain that they—”

Lady Bethany reared back, breaking out of Abby’s em
brace. She was wild-eyed. “No! That is what I must
not—cannot!—do! Abby, you must believe me. I
would rather die than bring this disgrace to them!”

“But Bethany, what else can you do?” asked Abby,
utterly bewildered. “I cannot help you, you must see
that! I don’t know what to do any more than you do!”

“Oh, I know how foolish I must seem to you,” said
Lady Bethany, dashing her tears away again. “And indeed,
I didn’t mean to burden you with my terrible secret.
I just had to tell someone! Do you understand?”

“Of course I do,” said Abby reassuringly. However,
she could scarcely begin to comprehend the other’s
misery and shame. It was only her innate compassion
that allowed her to dimly perceive the tortured emo
tions that underlay Lady Bethany’s tight control.

“At least Richard offers me marriage. It would be
utterly unbearable otherwise,” said Lady Bethany, almost
under her breath. She seemed to shake herself. Then
she rose. She held out her hand and smiled deter
minedly. “I shan’t keep you any longer, Abby. I sus
pect you have any number of commitments, and I
really must go!”

Abby stood up, too, but she wasn’t willing for Lady Bethany
to leave when she was in such a state. “What are
you going to do, Bethany?” she asked with quiet
anxiety.

“I’ve told you. I am going to elope with Mr. Farn
ham,” said Lady Bethany in a hard voice.

“You don’t wish to be tied to him for the rest of
your life!” exclaimed Abby.

Lady Bethany’s gaze wavered. She shook her head quickly. “I haven’t a choice, Abby. Sylvan forbade me to see
Richard Farnham, and how very much I regret that I
did not listen! Now it is too late! Forgive me! I really
must go!”

“Wait!” Abby caught her friend’s arm. “Only tell
me this, have you set the date yet? It is a paltry
thought, in the circumstances, but I should like to give
you a—a wedding gift!”

Lady Bethany burst out laughing and threw her arms
around her. “Oh, Abby! What a very good friend you
have been to me! Oh, very well, if it will make you
feel better, you may be certain of finding me at home
until the middle of next week.”

“And—and then?” asked Abby hesitantly.

Lady Bethany shook her head. In a low, intense voice,
she choked, “I must go!” Without another word she
hurried out of the drawing room.

With Lady Bethany’s abrupt departure, Abby was left in a whirl of conjecture and worry. Her own troubles seemed to pale in comparison to the terrible situ
ation facing her friend. She didn’t know what to do.
She clasped and unclasped her hands, ineffectually try
ing to find a solution, rejecting every thought as
quickly as it arose.

One reflection slowly and surely took hold of her
mind. It became a fatal certainty, once it had oc
curred to her. If she had not aided and abetted Lady Bethany
in her clandestine contacts with Mr. Farnham – w
hen she knew that Lady Bethany’s brother and mother
disliked the connection – perhaps Lady Bethany would not
have been able to continue seeing the gentleman.

Gentleman! Abby repulsed the title with a loathing
gesture. She had little inkling exactly what had passed be
tween Lady Bethany and Mr. Farnham, but from Lady Bethany’s
obvious horror and distress, it had been an unpleas
ant business.

She put that out of her mind, only with difficulty,
and tried to concentrate on what she could possibly do. One thing she was certain of, and that
was that Lady Bethany must not be allowed to elope with
such a monster. Even if it turned out that Lady Bethany was indeed with child— Abby’s whirling thoughts stopped
there, unwilling to carry her into further speculations.

Abby found that she had left the drawing room and
was standing uncertainly in the entry hall. The foot
man on duty was looking at her, as though he had
addressed her and was awaiting instruction.

Abby pulled herself together. She was astonished at how unconcerned her voice sounded. “Lady Bethany
unfortunately had to cut short her visit. She was
not feeling well. I should like the carriage brought
around. And have my maid sent up to me, please.”

“Yes, miss.”

Abby ran up the stairs. Not until she had entered
her bedroom and had begun to impatiently undo what
buttons she could manage on her carriage dress that
she realized she had come to a decision. She could
not stop Lady Bethany from eloping with Mr. Farnham, but Lord Darlington could. She froze in the act of loosening her cuffs, for a moment awash again with uncer
tainty. She had made a promise to Lady Bethany. She
could not betray her friend’s trust. Could she? She nibbled on her lip with uncertainty.

The maid entered the bedroom and regarded her
mistress with surprise. “What is this, miss?”

At once Abby snapped out of her indecision again.
In a cool voice she said, “I am going out, Martha. I do not know how long I shall be, for I am going to
call on Lor—Lady Darlington.”

The maid accepted Abby’s stated intention without
comment and helped her to dress in a gown suitable for afternoon calls. Within a quarter hour Abby was
on her way to the Darlington town house. She nervously
clutched her reticule and wondered if her small store
of courage would sustain her.

At the town house, she was at once admitted. T
he butler expressed his regret that neither Lady
Darlington nor Lady Bethany was at home. “Would you care to leave a message, ma’am?”

Abby was at a stand. She realized her impetuous ac
tion had not been well thought out. She really hadn’t thought at all, she reflected with dismay. She recalled
now that Lady Darlington had remarked she had er
rands that morning and would stop at the Crackers’ for
tea. Naturally it would be assumed she had come to see
the two ladies of the house. She couldn’t very well
demand a private audience with Lord Darlington.

She thought quickly. With a nervous smile she said,
“I am sorry not to find Lady Darlington or Lady Bethany at home. Lady Bethany called earlier and I
forgot to convey an invitation at that time for her and
her ladyship. May I use the library to write a short
note? Oh, and if his lordship is in and it is not too
much trouble, I should like to express my appreciation
to Lord Darlington once again for the drive this
morning.”

“Certainly, miss.” The butler ushered her with a
respectful bow into the library, directing her to the writing desk, before quietly closing the door. If he
thought her request to speak privately to the marquess was
odd, he gave no indication of it. Abby was
thankful. She feared that her nerves were near shat
tered by the amount of sheer bravado she had al
ready displayed,

Abby sat down at the writing desk, casting aside her
reticule and muff. It had not crossed her mind before,
but she now penned an agitated note to Lady Bethany, im
ploring her to reconsider the action which she was
contemplating. She had sanded and folded the sheet,
just addressing it, when the door of the library opened.

She looked up to meet Lord Darlington’s inscruta
ble, narrowed gaze. Abby flushed and rose precipitou
sly, almost overturning the chair in her haste. “My
lord! I—I was hoping to find you at home.”

Lord Darlington crossed the threshold and closed
the door behind him with a snap. There was no hint of gladness in his gaze. “What are you doing here,
Miss Fairchilde?”

Abby’s brave smile wobbled before the hardness of
his voice. She gestured helplessly at the folded note.
“I wished to leave a note for Lady Bethany and—” She
drew in a ragged breath and raised her eyes to his.
“That is not true. I came because—” She tried again.
“I came because— “ To her horror and self-disgust,
she started to cry.

At once Lord Darlington crossed over to her, his
expression changing to remorse. “Miss Fairchilde—Abby! I am sorry. It was stupid of me. I shouldn’t
have railed at you like that. Pray don’t cry! I am not
worth it, you know!”

Abby found herself enfolded in the marquess’s em
brace, her nose pressed uncomfortably against his hard
shoulder. A somewhat watery and strangled laugh was
torn out of her. She pushed against him, quite ineffec
tually. “I cannot breathe properly!” she protested, her
voice muffled by his coat.

Instantly he released her, only retaining hold of her
hands. “Fool that I am, I nearly suffocated you!” he
said, smiling a little. There was a shade of uncertainty
in his eyes. “Am I forgiven?”

Abby felt the iciness in her heart melting. She
smiled at him. She blinked away the tears so that she
could see his face better. “Oh, there is nothing to
forgive! I was being stupid—”

“Not nearly as stupid as I,” he said, his voice sud
denly rough. He bent his head to kiss her, slowly, his
fingers tightening on her hands to an almost unbearable degree.

Abby’s lashes fluttered open when he broke from
her. Lord Darlington was breathing hard. He dropped
her hands at last and stepped back from her. “Perhaps
I should keep some distance between us,” he re
marked in a hoarse voice. “You shouldn’t have come.
You shouldn’t be here, with me, like this.”

Abby swallowed, all at once remembering just why she had come. When she looked into his eyes and saw
the warm light in them, she felt herself wavering.
Wildly, her thoughts sprang this way and that. She
couldn’t possibly tell him of her duplicity. He would feel such disgust for her. He would surely turn from her again. He— But no! She straightened her shoul
ders. She had to remember Lady Bethany. She had to tell
him, for he would know what to do to save his sister.

Abby unconsciously twisted her hands together, her
inner agitation beginning to tell on her. “My lord,
there is something I must tell you!”

“My lord?! I thought we were quite beyond formali
ties, my darling,” he said, half chidingly.

The endearment was almost Abby’s undoing. Tears
started to her eyes again, and she turned quickly away
so that he could not see her face. “Pray do not!”

Lord Darlington was astonished. He started toward
her, but caught himself up. There was something he
did not understand, something that was exercising
powerfully upon her. He spoke gently. “What is it,
Abby? You may trust me, I swear.”

For reply, she thrust out her hand to stop him. “Do
not, I beg of you! I have not the courage to relate to
you what I must when you are—are
kind
to me!”

He was increasingly perplexed. He could not imag
ine what could possibly have happened in the short
time since he had seen her last that had set her in
such a state. Then his imagination began to work, and
grimness entered his expression. A muscle
ticked alongside his jawline. With one hand on her
elbow, he turned her to face him. “Abby, something
has occurred, hasn’t it? Was it Lord Fielding?”

Abby stared at him almost uncomprehending. A
small hysterical laugh began to work its way up from her chest. “Oh, no, no! Lord Fielding?” She laughed
again.

Lord Darlington took hold of her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Stop it, Abby! Stop it, I
say! You must tell me the truth! I can see the fright
in your eyes!” His fingers tightened on her until she
winced. “He has been importuning you again, hasn’t he? And you were too weak to withstand him. Have
you accepted his offer? Have you?”

“No, no! Let me go, Sylvan! How dare you use me
so!” exclaimed Abby, trying to twist away from him.

Her attempt to escape only fueled his jealousy. He
spoke between gritted teeth. “If Fielding has dared
press his attentions on you, I shall thrash him within
an inch of his life!”

Abby stared into his molten eyes, her struggles
against him ceasing. There was an arrested look in her
eyes, as though she was seeing him for the first time.
Suddenly she spoke, quite coldly, though her voice was shaking, “Let me go, Lord Darlington!”

He did so, more out of surprise at her tone of com
mand than anything else. He had never heard her
speak in such a fashion.

Abby turned to pick up her discarded muff and reti
cule. When she swept around to face him again, she
had herself well in hand. “I came on a matter of some
importance, my lord, but I fear I made a mistake. I
shall take my leave now. Pray give my regards to Lady
Darlington and—and to Lady Bethany.”

“Abby—”

She looked at him. “Pray get out of my way, my
lord!”

Lord Darlington stepped aside. She went past him
without a glance, opened the door and exited.