“I’m getting there,” Nathan snapped. “And…I…might have…kissed her.”
He had expected Rhys to respond immediately, but his friend merely stared at him. The silence stretched for what felt like a lifetime before Rhys swallowed hard and croaked out, “What now?”
Nathan huffed out a breath. “You bloody well heard me.”
“You might have kissed her,” Rhys said. “Did you kiss her or didn’t you?”
“I kissed her,” Nathan muttered. “In the parlor by the foyer.”
“On the hand…on the cheek?”
“On the mouth, you great ridiculous arse,” Nathan growled. “I kissed her on the mouth, just as you would think I might kiss a woman like that.”
Rhys just kept blinking, as if he couldn’t quite fathom what he’d been told. On some level, Nathan didn’t blame him. He couldn’t exactly fathom it himself most of the time, and so it just kept haunting him.
“What does that mean?” Rhys breathed.
Nathan pushed to his feet and paced away. “I have no bloody idea. Yes, we have been at odds since the first moment we met. Ask Owen how that first meeting went and he will attest to the fact that Abigail and I came out of the gate hot. She makes her disdain for me clear at every turn. And yet I have been…attracted to her for a very long time.”
“She is pretty,” Rhys said, probably to make him feel better.
“Yes, yes, she is that,” Nathan said with a wave of his hand. “But she’s smart as a whip. She challenges the hell out of me, she has a light in her eyes that says she knows herself and she doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks of it. Beauty is the least of her attractive qualities.”
“You really do like her,” Rhys said.
“Despite the fact that she is entirely maddening…yes. I’m afraid so.”
Rhys sighed. “Well, I cannot say we didn’t…notice the attraction.”
Nathan flinched. “Yes, you and Owen both made that clear with your little comments over the last year about this. But attraction is one thing. One can wave that away like an annoying bee. I’ve done something about it now and that changes the situation.”
“How did she react?” Rhys asked.
“I thought she might wallop me,” Nathan admitted. “But she kissed me back. I felt she wanted me.”
“And then?”
“And then she pulled away and walked out. She accused me of playing a game with her. She continues to despise me. I haven’t seen her since. She hasn’t been to any of the events where we might have encountered one another.”
“Do you want to encounter her?” Rhys shook his head. “As you said, attraction is one thing. Even a kiss could be forgotten with a little time.”
“I have no idea,” Nathan said with a sigh. “That’s the worst part. I don’t know if I want to see her or not. I don’t know if that would make it better or not.”
“Very interesting.”
Nathan folded his arms. “Well, you’re of no help at all. Are you going to tell Pippa?”
Rhys laughed. “That is a complicated question. After all, this situation you find yourself in involves Pippa’s friend, one of her closest friends.”
Nathan held up a hand. “Leighton, please…”
Rhys nodded. “But I think, at least for now, that I can be quiet about it.”
Nathan pursed his lips and then let out a long sigh. “I will invite Abigail to my ball,” he said softly. “I make no promises that she’ll come. Now may we change the subject?”
“Certainly,” Rhys said, a twinkle in his eye as he got up. “How about a game of billiards?”
Nathan glared at him. He couldn’t believe Rhys didn’t recall that Nathan had been teaching Abigail some variation on the game. But he gritted his teeth. “Fine.”
As they left the room, he fought to regain some modicum of control over himself. He would not be bested by Abigail Montgomery. He had to find some way to defeat this feeling inside of him…and perhaps repeated exposure to the cause was the best way.
Abigail stepped out into her herb garden and drew a long, cleansing breath. There was no better place in the world than this one, with all its beautiful plants and flowers. How she loved to step into this little corner and personally tend to her garden, planning for tinctures and salves that she could make with her carefully cultivated plants. This was her peace, her escape. And she certainly needed it after the last few days when thoughts of her last encounter with Gilmore kept flooding her mind.
“No,” she muttered to herself, and harshly thrust memories of the man away. She tugged her apron on, dug in the pocket for her gardening gloves and knelt to go to work on the plants. For a short time, it was bliss and no unwanted thoughts intruded.
“I beg your pardon, madam.”
She lifted her head to find her butler standing close by. “Yes, Paisley?”
“You asked that I come to fetch you when it was ten to two.”
She blinked. “Is it already? Goodness, I lost track of the time. Celeste and Pippa will be here shortly for tea.”
“Yes, Mrs. Montgomery.”
She looked around. It was such a beautiful day, sunny and clear and unexpectedly warm. She smiled at Paisley. “Why don’t we have our tea out here? The gazebo will provide shade. Will that put the staff out too much?”
“Not at all, madam,” he said with a smile. “I will bring the ladies down to you as soon as they arrive. Oh, and the post is here. Would you like it while you wait?”
She nodded and extended a hand for the letters. It was a small, rather sad stack at that and she pursed her lips as Paisley excused himself to await her visitors. She wasn’t shocked at the lack of correspondence, just hurt. She had returned to Society after her proper mourning period, but like Pippa and Rhys, she was not finding the warmest welcome.
Still, there was one missive that stood out from the rest as she flipped through the pile, and she opened it with a thrill. It was from Lady Lena’s Salon. An invitation to join, at last, and to the next gathering in a just a few days.
She clutched the papers to her chest with a giggle. Both Celeste and Pippa and their husbands were already members of the exclusive salon, and though Lena and Harriet were always kind to her, she hadn’t been certain she would ever receive the coveted invitation. But it seemed they had been simply awaiting her official return to Society, rather than leaving her out entirely.
She’d heard so much about the intelligent conversations had there, the wonderful lectures and presentations. Rumor had it that William Blake had once attended and spoken rather shockingly about the Royal Academy.
She couldn’t wait.
She was still reveling in the pleasure of the idea when she glanced down and found that another letter had fallen while she all but danced around her herb garden. She bent to pick it up and her stomach turned as she dusted it off. It was from Gilmore.
She shoved the rest into her apron pocket and, with shaking hands, broke the seal. Would he address what had happened between them a few nights before? That kiss that still haunted her dreams?
But when she unfolded the pages, it was nothing personal within at all. An invitation to a ball the next week. She didn’t even think Gilmore had written it himself. It was amazing how she had been dreading whatever he’d written—now she was disappointed there wasn’t some meaningful letter after all.