Celeste worried her lip. “And what about…love? You cannot have truly given up on the entire concept.”
Abigail took a long breath. “Right now I suppose I do miss the…comfort of a man’s presence. I miss passion, to the point where it makes me very foolish.”
Celeste wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” Abigail waved her hand to dismiss the words she hadn’t meant to say. “I only mean that I wouldn’t mind a little attention from a gentleman. Discreetly, of course, if I could find one willing to look past my scandalous name and past.”
“A…a lover?” Celeste said, her eyes widening.
Abigail didn’t answer for a moment, probably because that word had hit her squarely in the chest. A lover. Yes, that was what she wanted. A man to make her feel those flutterings she had when Nathan kissed her. A man to make her feel more than that.
And since she very likely could not ask for more than a mere dalliance…why couldn’t she have that?
“I wouldn’t be opposed,” she said softly. Then she laughed to lighten the mood. “Perhaps I will find one in the crowd tonight.”
“At Gilmore’s ball,” Celeste said. “It is possible. There are many gentlemen attending, and you look so beautiful that they’ll surely be drawn to you. I must admit, I was surprised when you agreed to come. Everyone knows how much you dislike Gilmore.”
Damn, there was the subject of the duke again. And again, Abigail’s heart leapt a little when he was mentioned. She really did need to find a lover if this was how she reacted.
“He can be tolerable when he chooses to be,” she said, dropping her gaze away from Celeste’s. Her friend was too observant to be trusted.
“Wait…you now find him tolerable?” she asked.
“No!” Abigail shook her head. “Yes. I still think he can be arrogant. I’m still angry at him for causing so much pain when he didn’t have to do so. But I suppose, from time to time…he can be…charming.”
Celeste stared at her as if she had sprouted a second head. “Abigail?”
“I’m not saying I want to kiss the man again, I’m just saying—” She stopped and clapped a hand over her mouth as she realized the slip she had just made.
For a moment the carriage was utterly silent as Celeste stared at her, mouth agape, shaking her head slowly. At last, she seemed to gather herself and she said, “Did you say kiss him again?”
Abigail squirmed. “Er…yes,” she whispered.
“As in you kissed him at some point before?”
“Yes.” Her voice was hardly more than a squeak now. The carriage began to slow as they reached Gilmore’s London home. The same one where said kiss had happened. She swallowed hard. “He kissed me. I kissed him back. We…we kissed.”
A thousand questions crossed Celeste’s face, but she couldn’t ask them because the footman opened the door and they were helped out and guided toward the house. It was brightly lit tonight, and music and laughter drifted onto the drive.
“Please forget what I said,” Abigail whispered as they entered the house and moved with the others arriving toward the ballroom in the back of the house.
“I don’t think that is possible,” Celeste whispered back. “This is stunning news. Amazing news.”
“It’s not!” Abigail hissed even as she tried to keep a smile on her face for those who were looking at her. Judging her, she knew. She caught Celeste’s hand. “It means nothing. He’s still Gilmore. Nothing has changed.” That didn’t feel true, but she said it anyway. “And I’m only here tonight for Pippa and Rhys.”
She realized she was gripping Celeste’s hand far too hard, as her friend peeled her fingers away. “Calm yourself,” she said gently. “I won’t mention it again if you don’t wish to discuss it. But we are coming to the front of the line and he is right there, so bear up.”
Abigail could hardly breathe as they stepped up together to Gilmore. Great God, but he was handsome in formal attire. Every piece of him was exactly where it should be, and it made her want to…muss him a little. God, she was hopeless.
“Mrs. Gregory,” Gilmore said, clasping Celeste’s hand. “You do look radiant tonight. I know Owen will be late—I’ll keep watch for him.”
“Thank you, Gilmore,” Celeste said. “And for the invitation.”
She moved along, though Abigail could feel her stare as she stepped up to Gilmore, herself. She couldn’t make herself meet his eyes as she said, “Good evening.”
“Abigail,” he said softly, just so she could hear. A shiver worked up her spine. “I’m so glad you came this evening.”
There was a little bit of challenge to his tone and she clung to that to find some purchase. “Why wouldn’t I?” she said, a little sharper than necessary. “I said I would.”
He chuckled lightly. “Yes, you did. And I’m beginning to realize that you never lie. Enjoy your evening.”
She stepped away, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did so, and she hustled into the ballroom behind Celeste. Already the party was a crush, with people gathered talking and laughing as the orchestra played.
She saw Celeste talking to Pippa and Rhys a short distance away. She should go to them, of course, be with her friends. But she couldn’t bear to, especially when she didn’t know if Celeste was whispering her secret to them. She never should have said anything out loud.
Because now the fact that she wanted a lover and that she’d kissed Gilmore seemed all too real. And too tangled for her own good.
Nathan smiled at his guests, saying a few good evenings as he passed through the crowd. But he was not interested in stopping for deeper conversation. No, he was on a mission to find Abigail. He hadn’t spoken to her since her arrival nearly an hour before, though he had caught glimpses of her. Always ducking away from him.
But now he caught sight of her, standing off along the wall, watching the dancers merrily bob by on the dancefloor. Her expression was faraway, almost sad. She didn’t notice as he approached, and she jumped when he reached her and said her name.
“Your—your Grace,” she stammered. “I didn’t see you there.”
“No, I assume not or you would have run, as you have been doing all night.”
Her eyes went wide, and then the steel she so often exhibited toward him entered her face and made her back straighten. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
He tilted his head. “Of course you don’t.” The song the orchestra was playing was coming to an end, and he drew a long breath. “Is your card filled for the next, Abigail?”
She shifted. “I have not danced tonight, Your Grace, save with Owen or Rhys. So I think you know the answer.”
“Then perhaps you will do me the honor?”
Her gaze flitted to his face, and he saw her trying to find a way to refuse him that would not be too rude. But then her eyes settled on his mouth, held there too long. There was the push and pull. The longing he felt mirrored back in her, forever battling with whatever her reasons were for disliking him so much.