Chapter Six

Thwack.

Abigail hit the shuttlecock with perhaps slightly more force than was necessary, but at the moment, she was beyond caring.  This game of battledore had been going on for the better part of the afternoon, with breaks being taken only when a fresh shuttlecock was required.  Both she and Lady Sophia had stripped the feathers off the infernal little object several times so far, and Abigail feverently hoped that Lord and Lady Enwright had an unlimited supply of them.

Knowing Lucy as she did, Abigail suspected that she had a whole bag full of them somewhere.  For Lucy Enwright knew her friends well.  And none of the women who called the duchess a true friend were exactly the shy and retiring sort.

Thwack.

Another hit from Abigail's racket sent the shuttlecock flying backwards, this time so far back that Lady Sophia had to lift her skirts and reveal a bit of ankle as she raced to reach the flying object in time.

Not that anyone likely noticed the flash of feminine skin or if they did, well, this was a bit of a scandalous crowd, as Abigail was quickly coming to discover.  Not much shocked them.  Especially not something as simple as a mere stocking-clad ankle.  Truthfully, that would barely even raise an eyebrow most of the time.

In fact, if anything, it would take rather a lot to shame this crowd, which, she reasoned, was precisely how the duke and duchess preferred it.  After all, the duke had long been known for his just-this-side-of-completely-scandalous, end-of-season house party that would culminate in the grand masked ball next Saturday evening.  The fact that Lucy not only liked but encouraged her husband to continue the tradition was something that was whispered about in the drawing rooms of London throughout most of the Season.

Especially since an invitation to the event was one of the most sought after in all of London.  And the guest list was notoriously select.  And small.  Not to mention largely confined to those who could keep a secret and were not scandalized by such things as a flash of ankle.

Or two women gallivanting about Fairhaven's massive front lawn in pursuit of a shuttlecock while trying their best to defeat the other with something akin to cutthroat gusto.

For the second day in a row, almost the entire assembled guests of the house party turned out to view the women's athletic competitions this afternoon - including Lord Hathaway.  Or Adam, as Abigail had privately come to think of him in the last few hours.  In fact she was so busy thinking of him that she almost missed the small hole in the yard and had to neatly side-step it, lest she turn her own ankle and flash a bit of flesh.  That would never do.  Or would it?  She supposed that all depended upon what outcome she desired.  At the moment, she didn't know what that was.

Thwack.

This time, Abigail's strike at the shuttlecock was accompanied by a small grunt and she heard a loud cheer in the distance.  She supposed that was because it was assumed by one and all that ladies of good breeding did not make such noises.  And she had.  Rather loudly.  Then again, as Lady Josephine had pointed out earlier when both Abigail and Sophia had taken to the playing field, Abigail was not exactly a lady.

That, however, did not seem to bother many of the Enwright's guests, as Abigail could hear several of them cheering for her.  Even though cheering was also unseemly as well, at least in Lady Josephine's opinion.  A few more daring guests were also placing bets on who would win the battledore competition and Abigail wondered briefly what Lady Josephine would have to say about such a thing.  Probably not much good, she imagined.

Not that Abigail minded the cheering.  Or the betting.  It meant that she was doing well, which was precisely her goal.  Especially after meeting Lady Sophia in person and gaining a better understanding of exactly what Adam meant regarding his sister.

During the Season, Abigail and Sophia had not traveled in the same social circles, so Abigail knew little about the woman she was - by some small miracle of agreement - competing against in the battledore tournament.  Abigail knew that the other woman was petite, beautiful and, by all accounts, delicate as a fragile summer flower.  What she had not known, however, was that Adam had a better grasp on who his sister truly was than most of Society did.  For from the very moment she picked up the battledore racket, Sophia was also an extremely fierce competitor who clearly didn't like to lose.  Especially not to the same woman who had bested her in bowls the previous day.  There was a grim determination in her expression, as if she saw losing to someone like Abigail as a personal affront.

Perhaps she did, for it was clear that Lady Sophia was not cut from the same cloth as her brother.  He was more, well, Abigail did not want to use the word forgiving, for that wasn't quite right.  Perhaps human was the word she was looking for, though she doubted much of the ton would agree with her on that choice of word, either.  Though Abigail did suspect that at one point, brother and sister had been very much alike.  But that was before Adam had rejected Lady Diana and his entire world and social standing had fallen apart.  And he'd had to learn an extremely hard lesson in humility.

Thwack.

Another hit and the shuttlecock sailed back towards Lady Sophia, this time just to the left so she had to gallop a bit towards the shrubbery that marked the far edge of the sporting lawn.  Good.  Abigail didn't want this to be easy.  She still might lose, but if she did, Lady Sophia would have earned the victory.  It would not have been handed to her - just as Adam had feared.

Adam.

Even now, Abigail could still feel the hard, delicious muscles of his arm beneath her hand that very morning.  They were warm and strong, so hard that even now they still made her shiver.  Not that he was a man for her, certainly.  In fact, she shouldn't be thinking about any man since she had declared her intention not to wed.  But there was something about the Duke of Hathaway that drew her, like a moth to a flame.  Perhaps it was because with his currently sullied reputation, he was no longer beyond her touch.  If anything, he was below her in some regards, for she still had the respect of all and he did not.  Certainly, it made him more human.

And when he had asked her to challenge his sister and not allow Lady Sophia to win, his gray eyes gleaming in the bright morning sun?  He had been utterly delectable and his chiseled chin had made her heart beat just a little faster.

Thwack.

This time, Abigail almost missed the shuttlecock because she was so caught up in her musings about the duke and she heard the assembled crowd shuffle off to her left, causing her to re-double her concentration.  She was expected to lose.  After all, she was a merchant's daughter and Lady Sophia was the daughter of a duke.  Not to mention that Lady Sophia always won.  It was just expected that she would.  However, Abigail was not in the mood to loose.  If anything, she was feeling a bit giddy after her unexpected walk around the lake with Adam that morning.

Abigail liked the way Adam made her feel.  It was completely and utterly unexpected, especially after so many years of meeting men and feeling completely bored to tears by them.  That she should have this feeling with a duke of all people was beyond her expectations, but for once, she was not questioning the way he made her feel.  Despite her rather vivid imagination, Abigail knew she was often rational to a fault, and the way Adam made her feel was anything but rational.  He had from that first, and altogether unexpected, kiss in the garden the previous morning.

In fact, she was rather glad that her chaperone was currently laid up in bed with a badly mangled knee.  Not that she wished Miss Cutwright any ill-will, but the woman was constantly badgering Abigail about her behavior and the possibility of making an excellent match with a peer.  If the older woman knew that her charge was currently keeping company with a duke, she would be over the moon - and likely plotting how best to trap the two together so they might be forced into marriage.  And ruin everything in the process.

Abigail didn't want that.  She still had no plans to marry, and even if she did, she did not want to trap a husband.  Rather, for her remaining few days in Society, she wanted to laugh and flirt and have a good time - with Lord Hathaway and without any sort of pressure to do or be something that she was not and never would be.  If that was odd and unusual, then so be it.

Once more, she was so busy thinking of Adam that she didn't see the shuttlecock until it was almost too late.  During one of her lapses in attention, Lady Sophia had, for some inexplicable reason, sent the feathered shuttle on a direct line towards Abigail's face and it was only at the last moment that she was able to bring up her racket and deflect the object, hitting it so hard that at least two of its feathers flew off and fluttered to the ground in front of her.

Sophia, clearly not expecting Abigail to react so quickly and likely believing that victory was within her grasp, had her back partially turned when the cock came flying back towards her.  Unlike Abigail, Adam's sister was not quite able to bring her racket up in time and the projectile smacked her squarely in the nose, causing blood to gush everywhere.

The moment Lady Sophia began to sprout blood, pandemonium broke out just about everywhere, with lords and ladies alike scurrying to the woman's side to see if they could assist her.  Or perhaps come away with a juicy bit of gossip if they could determine whether or not Abigail had launched that particular shot on purpose.

She hadn't.  It wasn't in Abigail's nature to harm anyone.  Not even the slightly insufferable Lady Sophia, who, though Abigail had just been formally introduced to her, had been acting like something of a spoiled brat all afternoon.

"I do not wish to say this of a lady, but truly, she had that coming."

Abigail turned to find the Comte De La Croix by her side, which she found odd.  Though she knew the French count from her time in London, she did not know him well and had only spoken to him a handful of times during the Season.

"My lord?"  Abigail raised her eyebrow as she made certain to hold on to her racket, for he made her a touch uneasy.  "I am afraid I do not take your meaning."  She didn't know this man and the last thing she wanted was to say the wrong thing in his presence.  She might be Lucy's friend, but the man next to her had the protection of a title.  That was something that Abigail lacked.

De La Croix rolled his eyes.  "The chit is lovely but she is spoiled beyond measure.  She has been moping about since the other night over this nasty Lord Selby business.  This is a house party.  It is meant to be fun.  It is not meant for this sort of weepy behavior."

"I was unaware that you were acquainted with the young lady," Abigail offered, though she remembered the previous morning when Adam had gone to join the Comte and a few others over breakfast.  "I am afraid that I have only just met her, so I cannot speak to her state of mind.  Or her behavior."

"You were here during that fit she took when Hathaway told her she couldn't marry Selby.  I saw you."  The man seemed pleasant enough, but he was also clearly fishing for something, which immediately put Abigail on her guard.  "In fact, I notice all of the beautiful and unattached young woman at a party such as this one.  Especially ones without escort."

So.  There was the truth of it.  The man saw her as an easy mark, did he?  That was not surprising.  It was common knowledge that, like Lord Hunt, De La Croix was in need of funds.  After all, the Revolution had stripped him of his family's lands and fortune back in France.  However, unlike Lord Hunt who was ever the gentleman and exceedingly kind and polite, this man truly was a rogue.  Not like Adam, who had been branded as such, but was still a gentleman at heart.

"I have an escort," Abigail replied tartly, fully aware that this man would take advantage of her if he could.  "Unfortunately, Miss Cutwright has been laid up with an injury and is unable to come downstairs."  She looked around at where a small crowd still huddled around Lady Sophia.  "However, given the sheer number of people at this house party, I do think that I am more than properly supervised.  And perfectly safe."

De La Croix's lips twisted and in that moment, Abigail realized how vulnerable she was at that moment.  After she had accidentally struck Lady Sophia, Abigail had retreated to the shade of a small copse of trees.  While she was still out in the open, with everyone's attention focused on Sophia, no one was really paying attention to her.  Other than the count.  And suddenly, Abigail wondered if he meant to drag her off some place so that he could compromise her.  She doubted it, for she could always scream and bring someone running to her aid.  However, desperate men were capable of desperate things, and Abigail knew that De La Croix was just bordering on true desperation.  This was yet one more reason she wished to retreat from Society.  She honestly had no idea whom she could trust.  Especially among the peerage.

"And yet, here we are in the shade, where it would be possible for me to steal a kiss or two if I was so inclined."  The man was clearly attempting to ooze charm, but Abigail found him oily and disgusting rather than charming and appealing.  "Perhaps you are not as safe at Fairhaven as you would like to believe, my dear."

"I shall scream if you touch me," Abigail retorted, her eyes narrowed.  Then she remembered the battledore racket that was still in her hands.  She was not defenseless after all.  "Do not force me to strike you, Comte," she threatened as forcefully she could.  "For I will, if only to defend myself.  Do not doubt me."

For a long moment, she thought that the comte might press the issue, but then he backed away slowly, as if realizing that he might have underestimated her.  And her will to avoid falling into whatever trap he had set for her.  "Here now, Miss Northrup.  There is no call for violence."

"If you so much as touch one hair on her head, there will be violence.  And yet more bloodshed."

Abigail hadn't even heard or seen Adam approach.  Instead, she had been too busy attempting to defend herself from De La Croix.  However, she was extremely thankful for his appearance.  She could defend herself well enough, and she hadn't been in any real danger.  At least not at the moment.  But the other man's words implied that she could be - if she let her guard down.

"Hathaway."  De La Croix's eyes flashed silver fire as Abigail felt rather than saw Adam come to stand behind her.  If nothing else, she felt the heat of him, which was like a fire at her back.  "I didn't know you had an interest in the chit.  You didn't mention it at breakfast yesterday when we were discussing such matters."

"I am always interested in the safety and reputation of a lady," the duke tossed back easily.  It was clear to Abigail that Adam was not frightened of the count in the least.  Though she had the impression that the count should be afraid of Adam.  "At heart, I am a gentleman, De La Croix.  Until I am forced not to be.  Best remember that."

The Frenchman eyed his rival carefully.  "As you like.  But I would not leave the lady alone for long were I you.  She is a rather tasty prize for the right sort of man."

Adam reached out as if to strike at the other man, but Abigail's small hand on the duke's arm held him back.  "He is not worth the risk, your grace."

"You are correct.  He is not."  Adam sniffed disdainfully.  "Be gone, De La Croix.  While I was attending to my sister just now, she told me all about you and how you attempted to corner her alone in the library this morning.  Something about an injury makes a lady turn to her family for comfort no mater what, I suppose.  Whatever the reason, however, I am aware of your tricks and, with Sophia at least, they shall not succeed.  Now I find you bothering another female guest.  I do not like that over much."

"I was unaware you were in a position to defend anyone," the other man sniped back at Adam.  "After all, it is not as if you have a sterling reputation any longer.  I'm sure that one word from me to the Bloody Duke and you would disappear forever."

A cough behind De La Croix caught his attention just then.  "You would be surprised at whom the Bloody Duke calls a friend these days.  And whom he does not."  Abigail had watched Lord Raynecourt approach the little group but when Adam had made no move to give the other man's presence away, neither had she.

"Lord Raynecourt," De La Croix all but squeaked.  "I had no idea you were still here.  I thought you were traveling on to another house party with Mr. Greer."

Abigail wasn't surprised when Rayne smiled rather cheekily.  If anything bothered him, he never showed it.  "All in good time, my friend.  All in good time."  Though his words were cheery, a dark shadow passed across Rayne's face and for a moment, Abigail wondered what secrets this man hid from the world.  Then, the shadow was gone and she knew that it was not her concern.  "Both Mr. Greer and I have decided to stay on for a few more days.  Loose ends to tie up and that sort of thing.  Besides, I am not needed elsewhere until the end of next week, so why not stay and enjoy myself?"  The earl's smile now did not reach his eyes and, in fact, seemed more of a warning than anything else.

For some reason, this news seemed to unsettle the comte and he mumbled his excuses before shuffling away rather quickly.  It was obvious he wished to avoid a confrontation and Abigail could not blame him.

"The man is an enigma, drat him," Rayne sighed as he watched De La Croix scurry across the lawn, not bothering to hold his tongue in front of Abigail, even though she was female.  Either she was not worthy of worrying about or the earl was attempting to make certain she understood the gravity of the situation.  She thought it might be the latter.  "One minute he acts as noble as any regent and the next he is propositioning reputable young ladies in the shrubbery.  It is maddening not to be able to get a handle on him.  Or do something about him.  Were it up to me, he would be on a boat back to France even now."

"He requires funds, and sooner rather than later," Adam replied quietly.  "Like Lord Selby, he has racked up some gambling debts as of late.  Extensive ones that few think him able to repay."  The annoying French count was actually how Adam had discovered Selby's own financial difficulties.  De La Croix had been bragging about his losses a little over a sennight ago, saying that for as much as he had lost at Noroc, a combination brothel and gaming hell that several members of the ton were thought to have a financial interest in, Lord Selby had lost even more.

That and that alone had sent Adam directly to the door of the Bloody Duke for assistance.  The man had been about to embark upon his honeymoon with his new bride, Eliza, and while he wasn't much interested in a long chat, Candlewood - who did in fact own a rather large portion of Noroc - did confirm for Adam that both De La Croix and Selby had suffered heavy losses at the gaming hell.  Enough so that there was a healthy amount of doubt about either man's ability to pay their respective debts.

It was also when the Bloody Duke had suggested to Adam that perhaps Sophia did not make the wisest choice in potential husbands.  He had also implied that if Adam took steps to ensure her safety, the censure he would endure in the short term would produce long-term benefits.  It was one of the many reasons why Adam had insisted upon breaking Sophia's betrothal.  If the Blood Duke thought that something was a bad idea, then it generally was.

"Interesting," Rayne commented almost lazily, though Abigail didn't miss the sharp mind hidden beneath the droll tone or the lazy words.  "I was unaware of that, but it does explain much.  I suppose I shall have to make a note of it."  Then his gaze sharpened and he eyed the duke critically.  "Why don't you reveal what you know to the others, Hathaway?  You could, you know.  Not only would it ensure that both De La Croix and Selby are watched more closely, but it would also raise your own stock quite a bit more in their eyes."

Adam shook his head.  "That is not my way.  I have made mistakes and I must correct them.  Taking advantage of another's misfortune to help save myself is not in my nature."  He cleared his throat.  "At least it is not any longer."

A look of appreciation crossed Rayne's face.  "Fascinating.  Truly.  I believe Candlewood will be glad to know this information."  Then the earl turned to offer Abigail a bow.  "My lady.  Now that you are safe and in good hands, I shall depart.  There are a few things I must do before I leave in a day or so.  Nasty business, but necessary.  Wouldn't do to tarry."  And with that, he was gone, leaving Adam and Abigail to watch his back as he retreated across the lawn.

When he was gone, Abigail turned back to Adam, utterly confused.  "I thought that Lord Candlewood was the spy.  Am I mistaken?"  She certainly could be, for she was hardly an expert on the upper reaches of Society.

Adam shook his head.  "No, you are not wrong.  However, both Lord Raynecourt and Lord Chillton, how shall I say this, do 'work' for the Bloody Duke from time to time.  I am not privy as to how or why or when, you understand.  I merely know that they do."  He made certain to emphasize the word work.  "I also believe that both Rayne and Mr. Greer, who is of Bow Street in case you were unaware, were sent here to spy."

"On you?"  Despite everything that she knew about Adam, Abigail thought that was taking things a bit far.  Especially since he wasn't truly horrid or a danger to anyone.  Certainly not like De La Croix was.  Or Lord Selby.

He nodded.  "At first I believed so."  When she went to protest, he held up his hand to stop her words.  "I think you greatly underestimate exactly how poorly I am viewed by much of Society, Abigail.  I am all but an outcast."

Abigail considered that for a moment.  "And now?" she prodded gently.  "Surely you cannot think the same now.  After all, Lord Raynecourt confided in you just now."

"Now I think that both men are here to spy on De La Croix and Selby."  Actually, Adam had begun to suspect something of that nature earlier during the battledore tournament when neither Greer nor Rayne could take their eyes from the other two men.  Especially when everyone else present had their gazes fixed upon the women.  "Make no mistake.  I believe they are keeping tabs on me as well.  After all, Lord Hallstone, who just whisked Lady Diana, my former betrothed, off to be wed is a good friend of Candlewood's these days.  And I am far from their favorite person.  In fact, I was barred from several homes just before the season ended."

"What utter clap-trap!"  Abigail slapped her hand over her mouth before she said anything else, horrified that she had uttered such foul language.  "Oh, dear.  I am so sorry, your grace.  I did not mean to say that."

However, Adam could only smile at Abigail's sudden outburst in his defense.  "Yes, you did.  And I appreciate you all the more for it."  Then he cleared his throat, not wishing to reveal too much of himself to his woman.  She could hurt him if he was not careful.  "But enough about me."

Abigail almost winced at her thoughtlessness, but it was yet another symptom of how thoroughly this man scrambled her brain.  "Yes.  Yes, of course.  You surely must be concerned about Sophia.  Is she well?"  The last thing Abigail wanted was to have broken the other woman's nose.  That would be an insult just about above all else, even if it had not been purely an accident.

Adam made a dismissive noise.  "My sister is fine.  Think no more of it.  A little blood and a lot of fawning over her by various eligible men and she will be right as rain in no time.  One thing you will soon learn about Sophia is that she is far tougher than she appears at first. And a bit more of a drama queen at times, as well.  Truly, she was born for the stage."

"Still, I am sorry."  Abigail truly was.  "I was merely distracted during the game and I am afraid that I did not aim my shots as well as I might have otherwise.  Had I been fully concentrating on the game, that is."

"No one could tell you were distracted," Adam assured her.  "I certainly couldn't and I know others could not either.  To me, it simply looked as if you were concentrating a bit too hard."  He paused.  "If you do not mind me asking, what distracted you?"

You, she wanted to say.  You and your fine manners and your insistence upon treating me like a lady when I am not and never will be.  In paying attention to me when no other man ever has and making my head swim with dreams that I cannot ever hope to claim as my own.  You are the reason I was so utterly distracted.  And only you.

Instead, she didn't say any of that.  Instead, she waved a hand in the direction of the manor house.  "I was worried about Miss Cutwright and this house party and my decision to leave Society.  About my mother who is ill and returned to Plymouth a few months ago.  About my father and whether or not he will support my decision to retreat to Wales.  Any number of things, really.  That was part of the reason I was out by the lake this morning.  I simply wished for time to think."

Abigail had not meant to reveal so much of herself to Adam, but she also did not wish for him to know that he occupied so much of her thoughts.  It was better to reveal her fears regarding her family than for him to know how much she was thinking of him.

"During which time, I disturbed you."  Adam should have known she was not out there to moon about over him, no matter how he wished otherwise.  "I am sorry for that.  And then I pushed you to take on my sister in battledore.  So if anyone is at fault for the incident, it is I.  And I shall inform her of such, should she behave in a less than appropriate manner towards you."

Gulping, Abigail put her hand on Adam's arm and then quickly snatched it back again before someone saw the intimate caress.  They were hardly alone, the crowd from the battledore game only a bit of a distance away.  What if someone saw them?  They might think she had designs on the duke or some other nonsense, and then where would she be?

"Please, don't," she whispered.  "I am sorry and I shall apologize to your sister as soon as possible.  I do not wish for you to interfere.  Not only might someone take that the wrong way, but I do not wish for your relationship with your sister to be any worse than it already is."

"That," Adam scoffed, "is not possible.  I do not think you truly appreciate how enamored Sophia is with Selby or how much she utterly adores him, likely to distraction.  And while I am certain her adoration and love for him is real enough, I do not know if he feels the same.  I gave in to her demands last month and approved the betrothal only because I felt that I had no choice.  It was not because I approved of the match, which she well knows and conveniently chooses to forget.  She simply forced the issue the only way she knew how.  By playing upon my fears and concerns for her.  So no, do not worry about my relationship with Sophia.  It will be repaired or not, no matter what you do."

In that moment, Abigail's heart broke for him.  "That is so very depressing.  To think that you might never mend fences is unthinkable to me.  Especially since my brothers and I get along so well.  We have had disagreements, of course, but never like that."

"Neither have we, at least not before this," Adam replied, glancing back over his shoulder to where Sophia was still surrounded by well-wishers and at least two men that he knew to be physicians, including Dr. Hastings.  "And if you wish to apologize to her, I will not stop you.  For your own sake, of course, and not for hers or for mine.  Despite the way she is carrying on, I can assure you that we will both be fine.  This will only make her more attractive to those men who wish to rescue her from her despicable brother."

Once more, Abigail understood Adam's reasoning, and decided that, for the moment anyway, she would leave well enough alone.  Though she would apologize to the woman.  Later.  In private.  "Very well.  I shall do as you request."

Unsurprisingly, Adam grinned at her and she had the feeling he was rather used to getting his way.  She would have to be careful that he didn't think her too agreeable.  Unlike most of the Society women he knew, Abigail did have a brain and she was not afraid to use it.  Even if that was the unpopular course of action.  "Well, then, might I request one more thing?"

He looked so charming in that moment that Abigail felt resolve immediately begin to weaken and she knew that she would likely do whatever he asked of her.  "And what is that?"

"Would you be so kind as to accompany me to dinner this evening?"  Once more he graced her with that magnificent smile.  "As you might remember, I have very few friends.  And also, I do not really wish for you to be deluged with additional horror stories about me and my unsavory behavior."

Abigail wanted to protest.  She wanted to remind him that, if Lord Raynecourt was to be believed, all Adam had to do was speak out against Lord Selby again, reveal the truth of the other man's debts, and he would likely have many friends again.  She also wanted to point out that, as a duke, by next Season, all of this would be forgotten as just a distant and unpleasant memory.

Yet she did none of those things.  Instead she nodded in agreement, silently cursing herself as she did so for being so utterly weak where one Lord Adam Reynolds was concerned.  "If it is open seating tonight, your grace, then yes, I shall be honored to dine with you."

However when he smiled at her again, once more indicating that he was utterly used to getting his own way, Abigail felt a flutter in her stomach again, and this time, it wasn't pleasant.  She would have to be extremely careful, for she didn't want to fall too far under this man's spell, no matter how charming he was.  For if she did, that could lead her down the path to ruin, and destroy her plans for a pleasant, quiet and respectable future.