Miss Watson's First Scandal (A Miss Mayhem Novella) (5 page)

CHAPTER SIX

Abigail allowed the parlor curtain to fall back into place with a heavy sigh as night descended on another perfect Brighton day. David Hawke had not reappeared since this morning. His front door remained stubbornly closed despite her wish to see him and have the notice calling in the debt delivered to Peter.

She glanced to where her brother paced, hands restlessly shuffling cards, making them dance in the air as he performed tricks. Peter, too, had been surreptitiously peeking out onto Cavendish Place all day, but not even he had mentioned what time David was expected to call. She couldn’t believe David had changed his mind about delivering the letter. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it. It was one of the things Abigail admired about him.

Once her brother had the notice, and was suitably desperate about the situation, Abigail would broach the subject of a union with Miss Merton as a solution to eviction and debtor’s prison. Surely Peter would see the logic of the match and fall in with her plans for him to marry. There really was no other choice.

Peter’s pocket watch clicked as he snapped it closed. “Well, it’s time we stepped out. Are you ready, little sister?”

“I have been ready for an hour, as you well know. How sad I’m always ready ahead of time, and you must rush about.”

Peter grinned. “Now, now. No need to ring a peal over my head. I did not see the moth hole in my waistcoat and I did change when you demanded it. I’m ready and fit to be seen, am I not?”

She glanced over him with a critical eye. At her urging, especially in light of the damaged waistcoat, he’d returned upstairs to dress a little more formally than he would normally. It wouldn’t do to be lax about his attire while courting an heiress. Abigail would have to sneak into his bedchamber and inspect his other clothes for similar damage.

Tonight, his cravat was perfectly tied for a change, his hair was neatly styled, and his pocket watch chain gleamed in the candlelight. Given the effort he had made with his outward appearance, she hoped Melanie Merton would finally notice what a fine man he was to look at. Only time would tell.

Although the evening was fair, she picked up her best shawl, placed it around her shoulders, and then linked her arm through Peter’s. “I’ve been looking forward to dining with everyone tonight. Melanie is so lovely, but I rarely see her unless it’s at a dinner somewhere.”

Peter’s brow rose as he opened the door to lead her out onto Cavendish Place. “Last week you complained that Miss Merton kept standing in your way when you were talking. Why the devil are you keen to spend time in her company?”

Abigail shook her head, glancing quickly at the front of David’s house. Every window was as dark as if he had not come to Brighton after all. Where was he? “I was mistaken in thinking it deliberate. She’s so elegant and tall, and I so short, I suspect she didn’t see me.”

Peter led her down the street, away from David’s house. “Strangely charitable. You have forgotten I saw it all. Damned rude of her to interrupt your conversation with Radley. If she does it again, I will say something cutting about it this time.”

Abigail dragged him to a halt. “Don’t you dare say one unkind word to Melanie. Not now.”

“Why not now?” Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Abigail, I won’t have you slighted like that again. I don’t care if I offend the silly chit or her family. She has no right to lord her fat dowry over you as if you were beneath her notice. It isn’t money that makes someone a better person. It is how they treat others.”

Abigail set her free hand to her trembling stomach and prayed Melanie might be in a friendlier mood tonight than she usually was. She simply had to see Peter’s better qualities. She was sure the right woman could overcome his interest in gambling.

Her brother rapped on the Radley’s door and they were whisked inside the elegant townhouse.

Mr. Linus Radley greeted them warmly. “Watson. Miss Watson. So happy you could come.”

“Thank you, Radley.” Peter shook hands with him and then headed for where the gentlemen had clustered on the far side of the drawing room.

Mr. Radley smiled at Abigail. “You look as lovely as ever, Miss Watson.”

A happy warmth invaded her chest at the compliment. She had dithered over her gown, settling on a cream silk edged with heavy burgundy embroidery. It had been a favorite since her time in London. “Thank you, sir.”

She glanced into the room, noting who had come. All the ladies of their group were here and of the men, David would be the last to arrive.

Mr. Radley cleared his throat. “Do you have a moment, Miss Watson? There is a pressing matter I wish to discuss with you.”

Abigail stilled at the memory of the last time someone had spoken those exact same phrases to her. Surely Mr. Radley was not so ridiculous as to propose marriage to her, too. She gathered her courage and pasted a smile on her face. “Of course. What can I help you with?”

He leaned closer. “I need to obtain your support in regard to my sister.”

Relief trickled through her and she relaxed. “What has Julia done now?”

Mr. Radley’s heavy sigh raised the hair on her neck. “She intends to challenge the gentlemen to a swimming race. I’ve done all I can to dissuade her, but she is determined to ignore the impropriety of mixed bathing to prove she’s a strong swimmer. You have as much influence on her as anyone. Can you try to convince her it’s a very bad idea?”

Abigail blushed as she remembered the unclad state the gentlemen swam in. Accidentally catching half of them stark naked was a memory she strove to push from her mind. Thankfully, Mr. Radley had not been there that day or she really would be blushing now. “You give me too much credit, sir. Julia has always gone her own way. But I will try.”

“That is all I can hope for.” He stood silently at her side, gazing across the room to where the ladies sat, an expression of disappointment on his face.

Uncomfortable with remaining apart from the group for too long and wary of giving the wrong impression about their discussion, she cleared her throat to recapture his attention. “I should like to join the ladies now if there is nothing else you wish to speak of, Mr. Radley.”

He startled as if he
had
forgotten she was standing at his side. “Yes, I’m sorry to have detained you. Do try to convince her if you have the opportunity. I fear what will happen to her reputation—and the family’s—if word spreads of her intentions.”

“Of course.” Abigail made her way into the parlor where Imogen, Julia Radley, Teresa and Melanie Merton sat. “Good evening, ladies.”

While the other greetings were warm and heartfelt, a shrill ‘Miss Watson’ was all Melanie Merton offered. The sharp edge to the salutation sent a chill through her as did the cold gaze that raked her from top to toe. Determined to advance Peter’s cause, she braced herself to overlook the rude behavior and improve their friendship. A bit of harmless flattery couldn’t hurt. “Miss Merton, you look lovely this evening.”

Melanie preened a little. “Thank you.”

When Melanie made no attempt to return the compliment or continue conversing, Abigail glanced about. Julia and Imogen gaped at her until she began to wonder if she’d left half her hair hanging down her back.

“Dinner is served,” the Radley’s butler intoned, saving them from the need to make further small talk. They all stood, Melanie taking the lead to proceed into dinner. Imogen caught Abigail’s arm when she would have followed. “I may just be sick to my stomach before the evening is through.”

“Oh, Imogen. An advantageous marriage is the only way to save Peter.”

Her friend frowned as she glanced around. “Well, I hope you can live with the consequences. Has Mr. Hawke spoken to your brother yet?”

That feeling of disquiet raced through her again when she thought of David’s darkened house. “I don’t believe so. He did not call at the house to see Peter today.”

“I overheard we may have odd numbers for dinner. Melanie will talk of nothing else for a month if that is the case.”

Abigail worried at her fingertip briefly. “Did David decline the invitation?”

One of Imogen’s eyebrows rose. “They say he never answered it. No one has seen him since the men went sea bathing this morning.”

Abigail took her place beside Valentine Merton at the table and participated in the general dinner conversation, but her thoughts remained on the man she had kissed by moonlight last night. Had David taken ill after the swim? Was he all alone in his dark town house? That thought didn’t rest easy with her. Shouldn’t someone check to see if he were well?

CHAPTER SEVEN

David groaned and rolled onto his side as his stomach bitterly complained it was empty. Pale light pierced the gloom through the gaps around his bedchamber drapes and he fumbled for his pocket watch. The hands showed eight o’clock had just passed. He must have dozed off for a few minutes.

He crawled out of bed, stretched his aching limbs, and peeked outside. The sunny day had turned dreary with rain. He frowned as he parted the drapes wider. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when he’d been swimming this morning. The swift change in the weather surprised him. He’d been asleep less than an hour.

Bemused, he scratched his head, noting that salt had stiffened his hair until it stood on end, and looked for his discarded clothing. But although he searched, everything he’d left on the chair next to the wardrobe was gone. His housekeeper must have crept in and taken them to wash while he’d been napping. Odd, given that Mrs. Lynch had never come into his bedchamber before while he was in it. He didn’t care for the idea. He’d only been asleep for a short time.

When footsteps approached, tapping lightly up the stairs, he dived back into bed and pulled the covers up his chest so he wouldn’t shock the poor woman. Mrs. Lynch only came in to clean in the mornings and to set a pot on to cook during the day. He had no need of a full-time servant. Not for one week a year.

He saw a breakfast tray first, and then his eyes widened as Abigail Watson’s face peeked through the gap, only to quickly vanish again.

Horrified, David sat higher against the headboard and yanked the covers all the way up to his shoulders to cover his nakedness. “What on earth are you doing here, Miss Watson?”

“I was worried about you. May I come in?”

David’s body tensed, everywhere, at that idea and he quickly tamped down such improper thoughts about his innocent neighbor. “No, you may not. I’m not decent. Go home, Miss Watson.”

There was a long silence from the hall, and then Abigail muttered to herself. “Not particularly friendly in the mornings. Must remember that.”

Regardless of his request that she leave, Abigail entered his room carrying a breakfast tray. The smell of ham, chocolate and fresh baked cake came with her and his empty stomach tumbled over itself loudly.

She approached and set the tray over his thighs, a bright blush making her cheeks rosy in the half light, her smile timid. “It is good to see you finally awake. I feared a physician would be needed.”

He pulled the tray higher, attempting to hide the effect her nearness had on his body. “Miss Watson, what are you talking about?”

As she opened the drapes a touch more and then faced him, he noted the apron tied around her waist and her small bare hands fumbling with the material. “It’s Monday. You’ve been asleep since yesterday morning as far as your housekeeper and I can determine.”

“Monday?” David stared at her in shock and then picked up his pocket watch again. The hands hadn’t moved since he’d last looked at it. “What time is it?”

She lifted a chair and relocated it close to the bed. “A little after two o’clock in the afternoon. I’ve never heard of someone sleeping so long unless they were gravely ill.”

Her concern touched him. “I’m not ill.”

A frown crossed her face as she sat. “So you say. But most people don’t lie as still as a corpse either, ignoring young women creeping into their bedchamber.”

She appeared so worried he forgave her for the impropriety of invading his home. However, no one else would if they discovered she was here. “You were here while I was sleeping? Is Peter with you?”

“No. Peter does not know I’m here. I begged your housekeeper to let me check you were still breathing as she was too afraid to come near you.”

She twisted her hands in her lap, reminding him the girl should be sent away for her own good, although it was likely far too late to save her reputation. Someone may have seen her enter his bachelor household. They would make the wrong assumption about her presence and any talk would ruin her. She had to leave. “Mrs. Lynch,” he bellowed.

“She cannot hear you. Mrs. Lynch needed to visit her sister in Hove urgently and I gave her permission to go since you were still asleep. I told her our housekeeper would watch over you in her place. Of course, my housekeeper knows none of this.”

David shook his head. “Miss Watson—Abigail. What of your reputation? What were you thinking to invade a bachelor residence? If word of this gets out, there will be hell to pay.”

She’d have no choice but to marry him and that wasn’t what he wanted for her. Abigail deserved a choice in who she wed.