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“I’ll try and smooth things over. When my mother understands that your reputation is safe, she will agree to leave the matter lie.”
Olivia doubted it. Lady Lacey had been so fired up with self-righteous anger, Olivia wondered if anyone could stop her from carrying out her threat.
“What did she mean, Nic? About last time? About the other one? And what promise did you make?” Olivia hurried after him as Nic increased his long strides.
He didn’t answer her.
“Nic,” Olivia murmured, “do you really think everything will be all right?”
But if he heard her, again Nic didn’t answer.
Abbot was beside himself by the time Olivia and Nic finally arrived at the coach. It was pulled up by the side of the road, half hidden among some elm trees. He didn’t give them a chance to explain or say good-bye, before bundling Olivia inside and banging his hand on the door as a signal to the driver to move. Then he and Nic stood and watched as the heavy vehicle trundled away toward the village.
“No one will know,” Abbot said, eyeing his master, who seemed very quiet. “The girl’s reputation is safe.”
Nic gave a strange breathless laugh. “Oh, do you think so, Abbot?”
“Yes, of course. Why not?” he asked curiously. “Have I forgotten something?”
Briefly, unemotionally, Nic told him what had happened.
After he was finished, Abbot stared at him for several long, horrified seconds. “But what will Lady Lacey do?” he said at last, trying to take an optimistic view of what was a catastrophic turn of events. “What can she do?”
“Don’t be deceived, Abbot. My mother may be old, she may be a recluse, but she has a great deal of power. The Laceys once owned this village and everyone knows it. She can do me, and Miss Monteith, a great deal of damage.”
“Would she be so vindictive, my lord?”
Nic turned to look at him, his eyes full of pain. “I think she would. I didn’t realize just how much she hated me until tonight. Stupid of me, perhaps, but I thought that, one day, she might forgive me. Now I know she never will.”
Abbot wanted to reassure him, but for once he could find no words to say. He felt drained and exhausted. Even when Nic began to walk back to the castle, and Abbot knew he should follow like the good servant he was—the good friend—he didn’t.
For years he’d protected Nic, tidied up after him, smoothed over his problems. Well, he was sick of it. Nic was old enough to look after himself. It was time he and his mother actually spoke to each other, face-to-face, instead of exchanging notes through him. Perhaps if they’d spoken to each other before, this situation would never have occurred.
Abbot began to walk in the direction of Bassingthorpe. He didn’t see the shadow against the window of the cottage on the opposite side of the road—he was too deep in his own thoughts. And even if he had, he would have thought nothing of it. Mrs. Brown lived in the cottage and she was almost blind, and her maid, Jenny, came in only during the day, returning to her home and family at night.
As far as Abbot was concerned they could not have been seen, and besides, he had other things on his mind.
Estelle opened her eyes, sitting up in her warm bed, and wondering what had woken her. And then she heard the sounds outside—a vehicle and horses. Voices. She knew one of them belonged to Miss Olivia. She had come home safe and sound from her risqué adventure. Estelle was glad about that—she was fond of Miss Olivia—and hopefully she had won Nic Lacey over, or at least forced him into making her a proposal of marriage. Estelle smiled to herself, imagining Abbot’s face when she told him they could finally live together as man and wife.
Her smile faded as she contemplated what he would say to her when he knew she’d been behind Olivia’s attendance at such a scandalous gathering as the demimonde ball. Abbot was far too straitlaced, but conversely that was one of the traits about him she loved the most. She accepted that it was up to her to take the risks and dodge around the obstacles, so that they could get the conclusion they both wanted. Surely the end justified the means? Well, it did in her book, anyway.
“Estelle!”
The hissing whisper had her out of her bed and reaching for the latch on her window. When she leaned out and looked down she saw Abbot standing below, his face a pale blur as he gazed up at her. Never before had he visited her like this, in the middle of the night. For one brief, excited moment she thought he must be so full of love for her that he couldn’t keep away, and then common sense reasserted itself.
If Abbot was there, then there was a practical reason.
“Wait there,” she called out softly, and hurried to the door, slipping on her robe and shoes as she peered out into the narrow corridor. No one else was about, and she was soon creeping down the back stairs. When she opened the tradesmen’s door, Abbot was waiting right outside.
He put his arms around her, drawing her against his body, and held on tight.
Surprised, but pleased all the same, she hugged him back. But this was so unlike him that she couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong.
“What is it?” she murmured, pressing her lips to his chin, which was the only part of his face she could reach. “Abbot, what’s happened?”
“I need you,” he groaned, with such longing in his voice that tears stung her eyes.
“Something’s happened,” she declared sharply, drawing away so that she could see his face in the moonlight. “Abbot, you must tell me what’s happened or I’ll go mad.”
