lordship say that put you all about, Abby? I’ve never seen you leave a partner so precipitously.”
“Don’t pry so, Melissa,” said August with an un usual sharpness.
Mrs. Crocker stared up at him, open astonishment in her eyes. “Why, I am not prying. I am merely interested.”
Abby looked from August’s expressive grimace to her sister. She did not know what she should say. She simply couldn’t tell her sister she had been afraid that Lord Fielding was about to declare himself, not when it was expected by her relatives that she would accept Lord Fielding. Not when she was unable to explain how her feelings had changed since she had first agreed to consider Lord Fielding’s suit.
“I—I was merely being foolish,” she said lamely.
“No doubt,” said Mrs. Crocker dryly. “I shall be glad of it when you acquire company manners, Abby!”
“Why don’t you let Abby alone? She does all right,” said August hastily.
“Of course she does. I just don’t wish her to squan der her chances,” said Mrs. Crocker. She eyed her brother with a gathering frown. “What has gotten into you, August?”
“Oh, pray stop!” exclaimed Abby, distressed by the burgeoning quarrel.
August shrugged and relented. “Oh, very well!”
Mrs. Fairchilde had been listening and now she took a hand. “That will be enough from you, as well, Melissa.” Mrs. Crocker threw up her hands and shook her head. With a gentle smile, Mrs. Fairchilde patted Abby’s arm. “Never mind, my dear. I am certain everything will come about just as it should,” she said soothingly.
Abby wanted to cry out that she simply wished to be left alone. But she didn’t. She was too cowardly to speak what was on her mind and in her heart.
At that moment the small party was approached by Mr. Farnham. The gentleman produced an elegant bow. Then he smiled. It was a dazzling display of excellent teeth. Mrs. Crocker blinked. Mrs. Fairchilde and Mrs. Paddington seemed equally struck to silence. August regarded Mr. Farnham with a spec ulative light in his eyes, while Abby regarded the gen tleman much as one would a snake that had risen up in the path.
Mr. Farnham was oblivious to everyone but Abby, yet he did not appear to notice her open dismay. “Miss Fairchilde! I am so happy to further my acquaintance with you. Imagine my delight when I saw you this evening. I felt that I must at once pay my respects.”
He had somehow gotten possession of Abby’s hand. She did not know how because she had not extended it to him. “Mr. F-Farnham, what a surprise,” she stammered.
“Do you know this gentleman, Abby?” asked Mrs. Crocker, somewhat sharply.
Mr. Farnham did not wait for Abby to respond, but at once transferred his attention to Mrs. Crocker. He gently closed Abby’s fingers about a small folded paper. “Alas, not nearly as well as I should like,” he said mournfully. “The truth is that we were briefly introduced to one another by a mutual acquaintance only this week.”
“I see,” said Mrs. Crocker thoughtfully. She slanted an inquiring glance at her sister.
Abby’s thoughts were a tangle. She intuited at once that Mr. Farnham had given her a note for Lady Bethany. The small scrap seemed to burn a hole right through her glove. Abby didn’t want it. She did not know what she was going to do. She couldn’t very well give it back to him without engendering just the kind of at tention she most disliked.
“Cedric Barthlew made us known to one another,” she said hastily. Clumsily, she pretended to be looking for her handkerchief and managed to drop the note into her silver-knotted reticule.
“I had hoped Miss Fairchilde might have a dance still free on her card,” said Mr. Farnham, still smiling. His eyes held a glinting expression as he watched her tuck away the note.
Abby’s first instinct was to fib and say her entire card was filled. Under the combined gazes of her fam ily, however, (all of whom knew very well that she had several
“Don’t pry so, Melissa,” said August with an un usual sharpness.
Mrs. Crocker stared up at him, open astonishment in her eyes. “Why, I am not prying. I am merely interested.”
Abby looked from August’s expressive grimace to her sister. She did not know what she should say. She simply couldn’t tell her sister she had been afraid that Lord Fielding was about to declare himself, not when it was expected by her relatives that she would accept Lord Fielding. Not when she was unable to explain how her feelings had changed since she had first agreed to consider Lord Fielding’s suit.
“I—I was merely being foolish,” she said lamely.
“No doubt,” said Mrs. Crocker dryly. “I shall be glad of it when you acquire company manners, Abby!”
“Why don’t you let Abby alone? She does all right,” said August hastily.
“Of course she does. I just don’t wish her to squan der her chances,” said Mrs. Crocker. She eyed her brother with a gathering frown. “What has gotten into you, August?”
“Oh, pray stop!” exclaimed Abby, distressed by the burgeoning quarrel.
August shrugged and relented. “Oh, very well!”
Mrs. Fairchilde had been listening and now she took a hand. “That will be enough from you, as well, Melissa.” Mrs. Crocker threw up her hands and shook her head. With a gentle smile, Mrs. Fairchilde patted Abby’s arm. “Never mind, my dear. I am certain everything will come about just as it should,” she said soothingly.
Abby wanted to cry out that she simply wished to be left alone. But she didn’t. She was too cowardly to speak what was on her mind and in her heart.
At that moment the small party was approached by Mr. Farnham. The gentleman produced an elegant bow. Then he smiled. It was a dazzling display of excellent teeth. Mrs. Crocker blinked. Mrs. Fairchilde and Mrs. Paddington seemed equally struck to silence. August regarded Mr. Farnham with a spec ulative light in his eyes, while Abby regarded the gen tleman much as one would a snake that had risen up in the path.
Mr. Farnham was oblivious to everyone but Abby, yet he did not appear to notice her open dismay. “Miss Fairchilde! I am so happy to further my acquaintance with you. Imagine my delight when I saw you this evening. I felt that I must at once pay my respects.”
He had somehow gotten possession of Abby’s hand. She did not know how because she had not extended it to him. “Mr. F-Farnham, what a surprise,” she stammered.
“Do you know this gentleman, Abby?” asked Mrs. Crocker, somewhat sharply.
Mr. Farnham did not wait for Abby to respond, but at once transferred his attention to Mrs. Crocker. He gently closed Abby’s fingers about a small folded paper. “Alas, not nearly as well as I should like,” he said mournfully. “The truth is that we were briefly introduced to one another by a mutual acquaintance only this week.”
“I see,” said Mrs. Crocker thoughtfully. She slanted an inquiring glance at her sister.
Abby’s thoughts were a tangle. She intuited at once that Mr. Farnham had given her a note for Lady Bethany. The small scrap seemed to burn a hole right through her glove. Abby didn’t want it. She did not know what she was going to do. She couldn’t very well give it back to him without engendering just the kind of at tention she most disliked.
“Cedric Barthlew made us known to one another,” she said hastily. Clumsily, she pretended to be looking for her handkerchief and managed to drop the note into her silver-knotted reticule.
“I had hoped Miss Fairchilde might have a dance still free on her card,” said Mr. Farnham, still smiling. His eyes held a glinting expression as he watched her tuck away the note.
Abby’s first instinct was to fib and say her entire card was filled. Under the combined gazes of her fam ily, however, (all of whom knew very well that she had several
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