Page 4 of A Scoundrel in the Making

“Then be…seen with him,” Lady Elana added.

Be seen with him? Him? Careful to keep her expression neutral, Abigail shifted her gaze to Sir Stirling. “We are to conduct an… affaire de coeur?”

“Oui,” Elana replied in flawless French. “But Sir Stirling is not the gentleman.” She cast him a wicked glance. “That is a shame, I know, but Sir Stirling is afflicted with a happy marriage.”

Abigail returned her attention to Lady Elana and waited.

Elana gave a small laugh. “You are superb. You never betray a hint of distress. Was I right, Sir Stirling? Is she not superb?”

He smiled gently. “Indeed, she is.”

Elana looked at her. “We are agreed?”

Agreed to what? Pretending to be in love? Or was there more? Abigail wanted to say that there was no need to bring in this gentleman. The Marchioness of Buchman could easily insert herself into any situation. But only the direst of circumstances would induce Lady Elana to impose upon Abigail now that she had resigned from service to the Crown.

Abigail smiled. “As you wish, Lady Elana.”

“We shall arrange a meeting with you and our gentleman say, tomorrow evening, at Lady Tate’s soiree?” Elana turned to Sir Stirling. “Is that time enough?”

“Perfect,” he replied.

Abigail hadn’t planned to attend the ball, but said, “The ball is predicted to be the party of the season.”

“A real crush,” Lady Elana replied. “Perfect for you to meet a gentleman and fall in love.”

This wouldn’t be the first time Abigail had played the role of a love-stricken woman. At least, the appearance of a courtship would discourage the matchmaking of Lady Bingley and others.

Lady Elana said, “I believe our work here is done, Sir Stirling.”

Abigail realized that she had no idea what role Sir Stirling held in this intrigue, but she knew better than to ask. Lady Elana believed that information was disseminated on a need-to-know basis only.

“We shall see you tomorrow, Lady Buchman,” Elana said.

Abigail recognized the dismissal. “So good to see you,” Abigail addressed her. She turned to Sir Stirling. “Sir, a pleasure to have met you.”

He canted his head and Abigail thought for an instant she read laughter in his eyes. But he said with complete seriousness, “Have a pleasant evening, my lady.”

Abigail left, softly closed the door behind her, and strolled back to the ballroom. She might want to give thought to attending more balls than she’d originally planned. She would sort through the stack of invitations on her desk at home. A glass or two of claret would ward off the evening’s chill…and keep the nightmares at bay. If only the claret would dispel the spirits that walked the corridors of Lochland Manor, as well.

* * *

When the door clicked shut, Lady Elana pressed a finger to her lips. A smile twitched the corners of Sir Stirling’s mouth. A moment passed before she said, “What say you?”

“You were right, of course. She is quite beautiful.”

“Oh that.” Elana waved a dismissive hand. “That is neither here nor there.”

He laughed. “A gentleman might disagree.”

“Ah, yes, of course. A man falls in love so much easier if the lady is beautiful. That aside, what do you think?”

He released a breath. “I believe I know just the gentleman.”

Elana glanced at the closed door. “She still struggles with her demons.”

He regarded her. “We all have our demons.”

She laughed softly. “You know me too well.” She narrowed her eyes in mock sternness. “But you are never to tell any of my secrets. Remember, I know a few of yours, as well.”

He lifted both hands, palms out. “I wouldnae think of it, my lady.”

“Tomorrow evening will do?” she asked.

He smiled. “I happen to know that the gentleman is free.”

“He will play along?”

“Never fear, I’ll see to that.”

She released a sigh. “Come, sit with me by the fire. I could use a drink—and we can discuss our next move.”