He raised his brows. Was the countess having visitors?
“Indeed? That is convenient. May I have the honor of an introduction then, since you are going to my home?”
“I am Abigail. The dowager countess’s companion. W-welcome home, my lord,” she said, shivering.
A memory clicked into place. “Lady Abigail Wilson?”
She smiled tremulously, not quite meeting his eyes. “You remember me, then?”
How could he not? As a boy, he had been infatuated with her. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. Kind, too. She never taunted or mocked him. He used to talk to her whenever her family visited. He looked forward to those visits, or to catch glimpses of her at picnics and other gatherings where children could attend. If memory served, she was two years younger than him, which would make her 32.
The first genuine smile since he arrived in England stretched his lips. “Of course I remember you. It’s an unexpected pleasure to find you here.”
Her gaze slid away, and she huddled even deeper into the cushions. Was her obvious discomfort caused by the cold, or by him?
“Lady Harfield is expecting you. Of course, we were not sure of exactly when you would arrive, but we tried to prepare. I hope you find everything to your satisfaction, my lord.”
Maybe the pleasure was all his in this case. She was talking again. Filling the silence. As if trying to dispel the intimacy of the moment. And intimate it was, both of them alone in a carriage, while the rain thundered around them. It felt as if they were secluded in their own little bubble. Warmth spread from his chest as the boring carriage ride became something precious.
“I’m sure everything will be fine. I don’t expect a grand welcome. Tell me, Lady Abigail, how long have you lived here?” He asked as the coach started moving again.
“Just Abigail, if you please, my lord. I don’t use my courtesy title anymore. It would be more than a little pretentious for a companion.”
“I see. Well, I will call you Abigail if you will call me Colin. The way you used to when we were children.”
“I couldn’t possibly, my lord. It wouldn’t be proper.”
He sighed. He was so tired of everyone “my-lording” him.
“As you wish. But you haven’t answered my question. How long have you been living here?”
“A little over four years. Ever since her ladyship became unwell and I...” she broke off, her lips compressing and her eyes skittering away.
But he would have none of it. That was the part he wanted to know the most. How had the daughter of a Marquess, one who had been the most beautiful girl in the whole county, probably the whole of England, who had matured into a dazzlingly beautiful woman, had ended up as his stepmother's companion?
“You what, Abigail?”
“I... became a widow. And I needed a position. Her ladyship was very kind to take me in.”
Ah! So maybe she had been left penniless by her husband. Still, she was young and beautiful. And the daughter of a marquess. Why choose a life of servitude when she could remarry? But her presence was an unexpected bright spot in this otherwise dreadful burden that was his inheritance. He would accept it as the gift it was. “I’m sure she has benefited from your company, too. Tell me, are you happy here?”
Her gaze shot to his, surprised and... fearful? Surely not. Did she think he was threatening her position here?
“Very much so, my lord.”
“And the countess?” He persisted in a mild tone, trying to put her at ease. “What is she like? Could you tell me about my father’s family? I’m afraid I don’t know them at all.”
She hesitated for a moment, as if wondering what to say.
“Her ladyship is... unwell. She uses a wheelchair to move and rarely leaves the house these days. She is a kind woman. Quiet. Likes to embroider and read. Your sister, Lady Elizabeth, is a high-spirited young lady. Beautiful, sunny and vivacious. With a heart of gold. She is currently away at finishing school, but will be returning soon.”
The carriage swayed and creaked as it hit a bump on the road. She fell half over him, her torso pressing against his for a heart stopping moment. His hands came up of their own volition to clutch her arms. To prevent her from falling or to hold her closer to him? He didn’t know, but she immediately scrambled to get away and he deposited back into her side of the coach, forcing his hands to release her.
He cleared his throat. “It sounds as if you are very fond of them.”
“I am my lord. They are like my family.” She said almost defiantly.
“And how is your actual family doing?” She stiffened imperceptibly. It was subtle, but he noticed it.
