“Of course,” Abigail said, motioning for Ophelia to lead them. They walked down the hall together in a not entirely comfortable silence, and then Ophelia led her into her chamber.
Abigail looked around briefly. Ophelia’s bright, sometimes chaotic personality was reflected in how clothing and items were somewhat strewn across the chamber. Books were stacked on the end table, brushes and combs and jewelry were spread across the dressing table.
“Here are the options,” Ophelia said, drawing Abigail’s attention to two gowns that were hanging along the front of her wardrobe. One was a stunning green, with an intricately woven bodice in a darker shade than the flowing skirt. There was hand painting on the hem and gold threading throughout.
“This is beautiful,” Abigail breathed as she lightly fingered the silk.
“Isn’t it?” Ophelia said with a happy smile. “I adore it beyond reason. And yet, I’m not sure. What about the blue?”
Abigail shifted her attention to the other gown. This one was pale blue, almost an exact match to Ophelia’s bright eyes. A white lace overlay gave the fall of the skirt marvelous depth and the dark satin sash at the high waistline was sewn with paste jewels that sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the window.
“The blue,” Abigail said. “The green is wonderful, but the blue will make your eyes pop. I think you should wear the blue.”
Ophelia sighed as if this was a relief. “It was my same thought, but I couldn’t talk myself into it. I needed your opinion.”
Abigail tilted her head. “Well, I’m happy to give it, Ophelia.”
“But you are surprised I’ve asked for it because of our distant relationship to this point,” Ophelia said as she put the green gown back in the wardrobe and then laid the blue out on her bed for her maid to prepare later.
Abigail caught her breath. “We…I…”
“It’s all right. We must speak of it sometime, mustn’t we? I know I’ve been cool toward you.”
Abigail shifted. “Perhaps. But it isn’t as if there was no reason for it. You had your doubts. You are allowed them.”
Ophelia wrinkled her brow. “You are almost too good. And I want you to know that I hope we can be better friends as we move forward. That we can truly become sisters over time. Not that I think I could ever replace what you lost.”
Abigail stared at the young woman before her. “Not replace,” she said softly. “But I would very much like to have you as a sister. In time.”
Ophelia smiled. “And what about you? Are you nervous for tonight?”
“Yes,” Abigail admitted, because she didn’t have the strength to deny it. “I don’t want to let your brother down.”
Ophelia’s smile fell a fraction and she stepped out. She took Abigail’s hands between her own, squeezing gently. “You won’t. You couldn’t. But I want to thank you for caring about his happiness. And thank you for all you’ve done for me, as well.”
Abigail wasn’t certain what Ophelia meant by that, but she didn’t pull away from it. “I hope over time I can do even more.”
“Yes.” Ophelia released her with a smile. “And now I am famished. Let’s go see what Mrs. Smythe has whipped up for breakfast, shall we?”
Abigail nodded and the two left the chamber together. She wasn’t certain what had brought on this shift, this final welcome, but she would take it. Tonight, she needed all the allies she could find.
Abigail smoothed her gown, a beautiful pink silk with a pale overlay stitched in flowers. Nathan had presented it to her earlier in the day, after he’d had it made by the same modiste who had made her bridal gown, so she’d had the most current measurements.
It was glorious and she adored it. At least she would look the part of a duchess. She hoped.
“You are…stunning.”
She turned toward the door to the antechamber and found Nathan standing there, his jacket dangling from his fingers, his mouth agape as he stared at her in what could only be described as wonder. She bent her head, a blush of pure pleasure warming her cheeks.
“Thank you again for the beautiful gown. I love it.” She glanced up at him. “And you are very handsome.”
He slung the jacket back over his shoulder and did a small circle so she could see him better. Her heart stuttered. He really did look almost good enough to eat.
“I almost look like a duke,” he said.
“You always look like a duke,” she corrected.
He arched a brow. “Not always. Not earlier today after your gift arrived.”
She shook her head, trying not to let her mind take her back to the way she’d thanked him on her knees in front of the fire.
“Do you want to just stay here and thank me again?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
“Don’t tempt me.” She attempted to laugh, but it didn’t mask her worry.
His smile faded a fraction. “You’re truly nervous about tonight, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “It is my first time to act as mistress of this house. With so many people coming, with so much at stake? There is a great deal that might go wrong.”
He pondered that a moment. “What if we made a wager to ease your mind?”
She arched a brow. “You just love losing to me, don’t you?”
He snorted out a laugh. “If you get too cocksure, I’m bound to catch you. Now, are you too cowardly to wager, Your Grace?”
“Never.” She folded her arms. “What is the subject?”
He stroked a hand across his freshly shaven jaw absently, leaving her wanting to do the same thing with her cheek and then her lips. “Well, we are attending a ball, and my sister will be there—a center of attention, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” Abigail agreed freely. “I saw her dress today and it is beautiful. She will be admired by all who attend.”
“Then why not wager on Ophelia and the number of her dance partners?”
“Interesting,” Abigail said, and tried to keep her giddiness from her face. She and Ophelia had talked during breakfast, and Ophelia had confided that she did not intend to dance more than ten times that night. She wasn’t going to fill her dance card. So Abigail had the advantage in this wager. “Do I get to choose the number first?”
“Yes. And whoever guesses closest to the correct number without going over will win.”
She pretended to think about it. “Nine,” she said.
“Nine?” he repeated. “Come, this is her first event since returning to London. She will be in great demand. I say fourteen. Her card will be full and only exhaustion will keep her from dancing all night long.”
Once more Abigail tried to keep her excitement from her voice as she shrugged. “You know her best, so you are likely to win. But what are the stakes?”
He cocked his head. “What do you want, Abigail?”
He was toying with her, being seductive and playful and probably expecting her to ask for some sexual favor. And it was tempting, because she did love any time he touched her. And yet she wanted something more, foolish as it might be. Something she had been pondering a great deal in the last few days.