Suddenly she felt nervous, and so she smiled up at Nathan in the hopes to diffuse those feelings he so often engendered in her. “What did you think about what he said about the reform of Poor Laws?”
Nathan’s eyes lit up. “Fascinating. I think I might reach out to him to speak about it more. I sit in the House of Lords, after all. I have influence—perhaps I can sponsor some legislation on the matter.”
She stared at him. “You would do so?”
He nodded.
“That would be wonderful. So many in power don’t seem to think of those without it at all. And while I don’t know that I believe everything the man said about the intrinsic goodness to pleasure—after all, I was married to a man who took his however he saw fit and it harmed a great many others—I do think that considering the happiness of the greater population has merits when we take actions that affect them. And I…”
She trailed off because Nathan’s smile had twisted a little, almost like he found what she was saying amusing.
She folded her arms in a shield against her chest. “I am talking too much.”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “I just enjoy watching you exhibit such passion about something rather than despising me.”
She cleared her throat. “A woman can have many facets and passions.”
His smile broadened. “Indeed, that is true. Oh, here is your carriage, let me help you up.”
He waved her footman to stay at the top of the rig and opened the door for her before he took her hand to assist her. She gripped his fingers, and for a moment she flashed to the last time she had touched him. In the parlor, when his lips had come down on hers and lit a fire that had no business burning through her as it had.
He was still holding her hand, and she stared down at his lean fingers, gripping hers through her thin gloves. She swallowed hard and slid her hand away. He gazed up at her, his pupils dilated much as they had been when they kissed. What would happen if she caught that hand again and drew him into the rig? What would happen if she took him back to her home and up to her bed? What would happen if she took off her gloves and touched that handsome face, traced those full lips with her thumb?
She blinked those wicked thoughts away.
“Good—goodnight,” she stammered.
He inclined his head. “I’ll see you at the ball in a few days. Goodnight, Abigail.”
He smiled as he shut the carriage door. She heard him say something to her driver and then she was off, leaving him behind outside the bookshop. She pulled the curtain back to look, but the angle was wrong and it was too dark to see him.
She settled back into her seat, worrying her lower lip as she pondered the man she left behind. Why were these feelings coming up now? These desires…not feelings. She didn’t have feelings for the Duke of Gilmore. That would be entirely untenable.
But desire was…something else, wasn’t it? It was something biological, something natural. It didn’t mean anything except that she was a woman with blood pumping through her veins. A woman who had been alone too long, watching those around her find passion and love while she was forced to wait.
Of course she would come out of mourning wanting some kind of physical attachment. And why wouldn’t it be Nathan who caught her eye? They saw each other somewhat regularly thanks to their mutual friends. And he was easy to look at. There was nothing wrong with wanting him.
There, that was settled. It created pleasure and did not create pain for anyone else, so she assumed even the speaker tonight would approve. Not that she would ever speak of this to any other person.
Nor would she do anything about it. After all, she and Nathan were still enemies. Desire didn’t change that. Nothing ever could.
Chapter 7
Abigail stood in the middle of her chamber, staring at her reflection as her maid Cora tugged and fluffed and straightened her gown.
“You do look lovely!” Celeste said from behind her. “That green is just beautiful on you.”
Abigail glanced over her shoulder with a smile. Her friend had joined her tonight and would ride with her to the Gilmore ball.
“As do you,” Abigail said. “Owen will not be able to take his eyes off you when he joins us. He was on a case tonight, yes?”
“Yes, finishing up a little paperwork about a minor theft,” Celeste said. “I’m sure he won’t be very late. He assures me Gilmore won’t be cross.”
Abigail turned her attention back to the mirror and tried not to react to Gilmore’s name. She had been avoiding speaking to her friend about their host and she changed the subject now to keep up that avoidance.
“Are you still helping Owen with his cases?” she asked.
Celeste nodded. “Oh yes. And I enjoy it so much. I research for him and occasionally speak to witnesses, especially those who might be more nervous speaking to a man. He’s also encouraged me to begin writing, which I always loved to do. Harriet was thrilled, and she and Lena offered to help me edit if I ever finish a piece.”
“That’s very exciting!” Abigail exclaimed. “What a thrill it would be to know a noted writer.”
Celeste chuckled. “What if I were not noted?”
“How could you not be? You’re brilliant. I’m sure Owen says the same.”
Celeste’s cheeks brightened. “I’m very lucky to have met and married a man who so supports me.”
“Indeed.” Abigail tried not to frown as her mind turned to the first husband they’d all shared. “Most are not so fortunate.”
Cora finished with Abigail’s hair and excused herself, which left Celeste and Abigail to exit her chamber. They made their way downstairs to the waiting carriage, but with every step Abigail could see Celeste had something on her mind.
“What is it, then?” she asked gently as the carriage began on its way.
“I don’t want to bring up a tender subject, and I fear I already have by reminding you of how unhappy Erasmus made you,” Celeste said softly.
Abigail caught her hand. “That is in the past. We are able to talk about him now, aren’t we, and not have it make everything maudlin.”
Celeste shrugged. “My relationship to him was not like yours and Pippa’s. We were never in love. I never wanted to marry him in the first place.”
Abigail sighed. “It is true that it was different for me. I went into our marriage with the highest of hopes, never dreaming what he would eventually do. But the fact is that I had stopped loving him a long time before I knew he was a bigamist fraud with dangerous intentions. My mourning period was not one of gnashing teeth or violent weeping for his loss. I reflected on my own actions during that time. My own failures. And also what I wished my future to look like…or what it can look like after such a scandal.”
“I do not think you failed,” Celeste said. “But I am curious what you hope for in your future. With Pippa and I so happy, we wish for the same for you.”
“Well, you and Pippa are lucky. I do not think we can ask for that kind of beautiful lightning to strike three times for the Mrs. Montgomerys.” She laughed though the subject was, indeed, painful. “Society judges me harshly because I was the only legal wife. I do not receive many invitations, except from our little circle. And I can live with that. I would rather have a few nice friends than a world of false ones.”