“Not at all,” William said, with remarkable grace. He stepped out into the hallway and strode away, head down, never once looking back.
Alex was left to edge out of the room after his brother, smiling nervously.
The smile had dropped from Lord Donovan’s face now. The footman looked thoroughly uncomfortable.
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing a great deal of each other over the next few days,” he said smoothly. There was an edge to his voice which Alex did not like.
“I wish we could be friends, Lord Donovan,” he said quietly, so quietly the man almost did not hear him. “I’m tired of this rivalry.”
Lord Donovan took a step towards Alex, coming so close their noses almost touched.
“I’m only just getting started,” he whispered. “You’re going to regret crossing me, Lord Alexander Willenshire. You’re a spoiled, stupid rake of a third son, and it’s no wonder your brother is so disappointed with you.”
Alex swallowed hard. “My brother is not disappointed with me.”
Lord Donovan smiled mirthlessly. “Oh, no? I think we both know that’s not true. Now, if you don’t mind, my dear Lord Alexander, I should like to have my room to myself. We’ll have opportunities to talk at dinner tonight, I’m sure. How does that sound?”
Alex swallowed hard. He was obliged to step aside, as Lord Donovan showed no signs of stepping back. Without risking another comment, he turned on his heel and marched away down the hallway, feeling the other man’s eyes boring into his back all the way.
Chapter Six
The dress was, admittedly, beautiful. Abigail held her breath, turning this way and that to watch it swish around her legs.
It was a mint green colour, a little brighter than she would have chosen for herself, but itdidsuit her. It was heavily ruched and frilled, according to the latest fashions, but somehow felt lesssillythan when she’d worn Scarlett’s dress.
Lucy, a cheerful, round-faced young woman who’d chattered non-stop since she entered Abigail’s room, took a step back, and beamed.
“You look lovely, Miss. Just lovely.”
“Thank you,” Abigail murmured, pulling at the end of one ringlet. Lucy had insisted on doing Abigail’s hair differently – all curled and piled up on her head, with a few ringlets hanging down, rather than the tight knot Abigail generally favoured. It had taken a lot longer to do than usual, but the results were definitely worth it.
“Knock, knock,” called a familiar voice at the door, letting herself in withoutactuallyknocking. Aunt Florence wore a surprisingly sedate gown in silver-coloured silk, fringed with jet beads. She gave an exclamation when she saw Abigail.
“Well, you are apicture! You’ve done well, Lucy. Very well indeed.”
Lucy gave a little curtsey, beaming with pride. Aunt Florence circled Abigail, taking in every detail. Abigail held her arms out at her sides for inspection, for once not feeling unbearably self-conscious. It was nice.
“Yes, yes, very nice,” she murmured. “I have to admit, I was worried about the sort of dresses your mother might send along with you, but this is very nice. How do you feel in it?”
“I love it,” Abigail admitted. “I’ve never had such a beautiful dress.”
Aunt Florence lifted her eyebrow. “Not even during your Season?”
Abigail flushed, biting her tongue. “Well, the style of dresses in my first Season were a little different to this, and my second Season… well, they were all annoyed that I wasn’t married, and Mama said she wasn’t going to waste more money on me.”
Aunt Florence pursed her lips. “I see. Hm. Well, enough about that, I suppose. We’re going down in a minute, but first I think you’re missing something.”
“What do you mean?”
With a flourish, Aunt Florence produced a little box, covered in peach-coloured silk. She opened the box, revealing a coral necklace and matching earrings. Abigail muffled a gasp.
“Oh, Aunt, they’re beautiful! Am I to wear them?”
“If you like.”
“But the dress is green.”
Aunt Florence chuckled. She took out the necklace, stringing it around Abigail’s throat. “Sometimes, a contrast is the most beautiful thing one can imagine.”
