Page 73 of A Perfect Gentleman

“Who?”

“The woman he loves.” Abby swallowed hard. “I didn’t know her name, you see. I knew he loved another woman, but I had no idea who she was. It was easier, not being able to put a name or a face to her. But tonight I met her. She told me her name; she must have thought me a fool when I didn’t recognize it. But then . . .” Her breath hitched. “Then he came in and saw her, saw us chatting together—and oh, the look on his face! I knew then. It was she.” She began to cry again.

“Here, now, it’ll be all right.” Molly slipped her arm around Abby and steered her back to the stool in front of the vanity. “We’ll get you out of these clothes and brush out your hair, and I’ll fetch you your cup of hot chocolate. Then you’ll feel better.”

“I won’t. Oh, Molly, you’ve no idea what she was like.”

Molly snorted. “I can make a good guess. All snooty and refined.” She raised her nose in the air, making a sour face. “Pale as death—blond hair and empty blue eyes.”

Abby let out a watery chuckle. “No, no. That is what I had assumed, too. I thought if I ever met her, she would be horrid and insipid or snobbish or maybe all those things.” She sighed. “But that wasn’t how she is at all. The fact is, I liked her. She’s pleasant and friendly and kind, not at all the sort who looks down her nose at you. I almost fell, and she grabbed my arm to help me.”

“You fell!” Molly frowned. “How did that happen?”

“I stumbled on the stairs. I managed to catch the railing, and Miss Hinsdale was there and kept me upright. That isn’t what’s important. The important thing is, she was nice. And she’s lovely. She is blond and blue-eyed, though her eyes aren’t empty at all, and she has that wonderful English skin, all pink and white like a porcelain doll.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t have a thing over you,” Molly said stoutly. “You’re a beauty, and you know it. There are always men hanging about, trying to get your attention.”

“I think it’s more the allure of my pocketbook than my face,” Abby said drily.

“Anyone who doesn’t see the worth in you deserves a good knock on his head, and that includes his lordship.” Molly had finished unpinning and brushing out Abby’s hair, and now she started on the row of hooks and eyes down the back of the gown. “If he’s been dangling after this woman with you at home waiting for him—”

“No,” Abby cut her off. “Graeme isn’t having an affair with her. I am sure of that.” Her mouth twisted. “He told me so himself. He assured me he would never dishonor Miss Hinsdale that way.”

Molly mumbled darkly to herself. Abby suspected it was just as well she couldn’t understand what her loyal maid said.

“I’m not worried about him being unfaithful to me, not in that way. Graeme is a gentleman, not just in birth but in his actions, as well. But in his heart, he loves another. I fear he always will. Oh, Molly, I was so foolish. I know you tried to warn me, and I wouldn’t listen. I told myself I could remain aloof and . . . and be happy with what I could have.”

“Och . . . the man’s a stubborn fool, and that’s the truth of it.”

“Perhaps he is.” Abby’s lips curved up. “At least a bit. I prefer to think that he’s steadfast. Loyal.”

“Blind.”

“No, sadly, I think he sees quite clearly. He—I think he finds me pleasing enough.”

“I should think so, given that he’s in your bed every night.”

“But that’s not the same as loving someone. Cherishing her.” And the lovemaking, too, would stop when Abby told him she was with child. Now she was sadly certain of it. His duty would be done, the bargain she had wrung from him paid. “When I saw Miss Hinsdale tonight . . . when Graeme said, ‘Laura!’ in that way, so shocked and . . . and appalled, I saw how hopeless it was.” Unable to sit still, Abby jumped to her feet and began to pace. “She is nothing like me, Molly, not in any way. Her coloring is the very opposite of mine, and she is slender and delicate, like a sylph.”

“Well, I don’t know what that sylph thing is, but she couldn’t be prettier than you.”

“It’s not just in looks, either. She is so . . . so English. Well-bred, calm. She was nice and friendly but in a very genteel British way. Exactly the kind of lady that a gentleman would want to marry. I am sure that she would never draw attention to herself by laughing too loudly or talking too freely. No doubt she knows the proper order of precedence for all the titles, as well as their family histories. She would never seat the wrong people next to each other at the table or address someone incorrectly. Most certainly she would not be inappropriate or blunt. Or have to be plucked out of the river.”

Abby stopped, finally running down, and came back to the maid. She turned so Molly could finish unhooking the back of her dress.

“Everything will look better in the morning,” Molly assured her.

“Will it?” Abby was inclined to think it never would. “Graeme is not fickle. He still loves her, and it won’t change. Laura will forever remain a young beauty in his heart and mind. Her hair won’t gray; she won’t wrinkle. She will never have disagreements with him or habits that irritate him. She will always be perfect. How can I hope to turn his love from that image?”

Stepping out of her dress and petticoats, Abby slipped on the nightgown Molly handed her, but shook her head at the Japanese silk dressing gown. She had worn it that first night with Graeme and the sight of it was too painful. Instead, she wrapped a red velvet robe around her.

“I’ll go get you some hot chocolate now,” Molly said, gathering up the clothes from the floor.

“I don’t want any.”

“I’m getting it anyway. Nothing picks up a person’s spirits like chocolate.”

In the distance there was the sound of a door slamming shut and a startled “My lord!” Abby’s head snapped up. Footsteps pounded up the staircase. She could not move, could not speak, could only stare frozen at the doorway as Graeme rushed into the room.