Chapter Twenty-Two

“I intended for you to spend time with Lord Donovan, Abigail!” Aunt Florence hissed.

Once Abigail and Alexander had reached the shore, closely pursued by their respective would-be suitors, Aunt Florence had quickly ascertained that Abigail was not going to row out again on the lake with Lord Donovan. She then claimed that she had a headache and wanted to return to the house, and Abigail found that everybody expected her to go with her aunt.

The unfairness simmered in her veins.

“I’ve spent more than enough time with Lord Donovan,” Abigail shot back. “I don’t like him, Aunt Florence!”

“Nonsense. You haven’t given him a fair try. If you weren’t dazzled with that silly little Willenshire rake, you’d think differently.”

They were stamping along the grassy path which led back to the house, alone. Lord Donovan had immediately offered to escort them back, but to Abigail’s surprise, her aunt had said no, she wanted to speak to her niece in private.

“I know I shouldn’t have said what I did at the picnic…” Abigail began, and was immediately interrupted.

“No, you shouldn’t have! Asking the man to take you out in the boat, in front of everybody! I was mortified, Abigail, and I don’t mind saying so! I would expect such behaviour of your sister, but not from you.”

That stung. Abigail rounded on her aunt. “That isn’t fair.”

“It is fair, and you know it. Your behaviour is bad, Abigail.”

“What have I done wrong? I’m sorry if I can’t fall in love with the man, you picked out for me, but I…”

“But what?” Aunt Florence interrupted, quick as a flash. “You’re in love with Alexander Willenshire, is that it?”

Abigail felt her cheeks stain red, a sure admission of guilt. No amount of holding up her head could make the tell-tale blush go away.

“Of course not,” she said, unconvincingly.

Some of Aunt Florence’s anger drained out of her face. “Oh, my poor sweet girl.”

“There is nothing poor about me, aunt! Except, of course, for the fact I am poor, but that’s not the point.”

“I wish you would listen to me, you stubborn, silly thing. Lord Alexander Willenshire is not the marrying kind of man. You’re breaking your heart for nothing.”

To her horror, a lump rose to Abigail’s throat. She kept remembering the way Alexander had looked at her, those strange, intent glances, the little smiles that made her heart beat. He was so much fun to be with, and they’d spoken about such deep subjects. She was sure he cared for her.

But then, how many silly girls had thought exactly the same? How many women found themselves heartbroken and alone because they man they swore loved them turned out to feel nothing of the sort?

She squeezed her eyes closed. “I’m not in love with him.”

It was clear that her aunt didn’t believe her. After a moment, Aunt Florence gave a long, heavy sigh, and continued tramping on towards the house. Abigail was obliged to follow.

“You’re more stubborn than I expected, Abbie,” she said, after a pause. “Perhaps the family blood runs deeper in you than I thought.”

That felt like an insult, or at least a criticism. Abigail held her tongue and said nothing.

“But all is not lost,” Aunt Florence continued. “I’ve spent a great deal of thought on this ball, you know. I had you in mind when I asked Mary to invite gentlemen like Lord Donovan. He is a fine man. He is wealthy, intelligent, well-bred, and looking for a wife. He’s of equal rank to Beatrix’s husband, so you’ll be on equal footing with her. That will oblige your mother and Scarlett to show you a little respect, which I believe you deserve. You’ll be settled and happy if you marry Lord Donovan.”

“It’s irrelevant, though. Lord Donovan does not want to marry me.”

Aunt Florence gave an indulgent chuckle. “You are a sweet, nave girl. He’s been announcing his intentions since he first met you. He and Lord Alexander are well-known enemies, and I think that is the one good thing Alex did for you – his flirting made Lord Donovan act more seriously.”

Abigail flinched. “Are you saying that Lord Donovan only pursued me to put Lord Alexander’s nose out of joint?”

“No, I am not saying that. Well, there is an element of truth in it, but he does like you. Lord Donovan, I mean. And you say he doesn’t want to marry you, but nothing could be further from the truth. Only this morning, Lord Donovan approached me and asked for my permission to marry you. There! What do you think of that?”

Aunt Florence gave a triumphant nod, glancing over at Abigail to see how she took it.

Abigail stopped dead in the middle of the path. “What? I… I don’t understand. Why would he ask you?”

“Well, he’s doing things properly, of course. You don’t need my permission to marry, since you are of age, but I am your guardian in this setting, and your aunt. There’s no point him writing to your mother, since she doesn’t know him, and would say yes regardless of who he was. I told him he would need to ask you, naturally, but I did hint to him that he should expect a favourable reply.”

Aunt Florence paused, the smile dying off her face. “You don’t seem pleased. This is a fabulous offer, Abigail. Your sister Beatrix and your mother worked very hard to secure her proposal from a man like Lord Donovan, and you’ve gotten it effortlessly. You’ve done well. Why aren’t you pleased?”

She drew in a deep breath. “If he proposes to me, I’ll say no.”

Aunt Florence jerked back. “Why on earth would you do that, you little fool?”

“I don’t love him! I can’t!”

In two strides, her aunt was in front of her, grabbing her shoulders.

“Look, you silly girl, if you don’t marry Lord Donovan, you’ll regret it.”

“I’ll regret it if I do marry him!”

“Can’t you just think for a moment? What will your life be like if you go home, hm? I took a risk in inviting you here, and you took a risk in accepting. I thought you would act more sensibly than this, Abigail. Be honest with me, what objections do you have against Lord Donovan, beyond the fact he isn’t Alexander?”

Abigail found herself taken aback by the question. “I…”

The truth was, she couldn’t think of any. She wasn’t attracted to Lord Donovan, and didn’t find him particularly interesting, but that wasn’t considered anything to consider in the Marriage Mart.

But when one came down to it, Aunt Florence was right.

Lord Graham Donovan was not Alexander, and that made all the difference.

She waited too long to reply, and Aunt Florence gave a growl of frustration and roughly released her.

“You are more stupid than I expected, Abigail. If I believed Alexander was serious, things would be different, but I know him. He is never serious. Why would he consider marriage now? If you must know, Lady Diana Lockwell broke his heart years ago, and it’s clear she’s set her cap at him this time around. If he’s going to marry anyone, he’ll marry her. You’re just a wallflower, my poor girl.”

That hurt. Abigail flinched, swallowing hard. She wrenched away, turning her back.

“That was unkind,” Aunt Florence said, after a pause. “I am sorry, Abigail.”

She shook her head, saying nothing. “I can’t marry him, Aunt Florence. I won’t.”

There was a long, pregnant silence. Aunt Florence let out a long, tired sigh.

“You’re of age, and I have no real authority over you. I can’t oblige you to do anything. Just know that Lord Donovan has my blessing as a suitor. If he makes a proposal and you refuse, that will end our trip.”

Abigail flinched again, turning to stare at her aunt. Part of her believed that Aunt Florence must be joking.

She wasn’t.

“I mean it, Abigail,” Aunt Florence said, her expression impassive. “I vouched for you. Please don’t be hurt when I say this, but somebody like you turning down a man like Lord Donovan will cause a stir when it gets out. I can assure you that it will get out. It will do no good for your reputation, and will make no sense to many people, least of all your family. I will be obliged to return you home as soon as possible.”

Abigail found her voice. “That isn’t fair.”

Aunt Florence shrugged. “That is Society, Abigail. The rules are strict and unforgiving. You are not a dazzling personality, or a beauty, or remarkably rich, and as such you will not be given any mercy if you break the rules. Believe me, I have been where you are. I was not rich or remarkably beautiful, and my character, although strong, was not what people considered ladylike. I married well, and it saved me in more ways than one. If I had let that opportunity slip away, I dread to imagine what my life would have been like. Now, I cannot and I will not insist on you doing anything, but those are the plain facts. I don’t want to bring you home unmarried – it feels like burying you alive.”

On that upsetting metaphor, Aunt Florence swept past her niece, head held high, and strode towards the house.

She did not look back.