Chapter 1
LADY SAVES THE DUKE-CHAPTER ONE
MISS ABIGAIL WRIGHT
Miss Abigail Wright had not planned to attend a house party this summer. She’d not planned on attending any parties ever again. She was fine, thank you, dwelling at her father’s modest home, Raebourne, for as long as she was able.
But plans—her plans, anyway—often materialized entirely differently from her intended scenario.
Which might explain why Abigail now sat, frustrated, on the delicate chair at her mother’s bedside. The furniture in her mother’s room was fashioned in the Queen Anne style, including the large canopied bed, desk, and side tables. Her mother liked all things around her to be delicate and feminine.
“But, Mother,” Abigail implored, “I do not want to go to a house party! I have been looking forward to spending the summer with my cousin here, at Raebourne.”
Her mother’s eyes remained closed as she reclined against several carefully arranged pillows.
Her left foot was elevated as well—not exactly doctor’s orders; he’d said it was only a bruise and could bear weight any time—but Abigail’s mother insisted she must rest it for several days.
And now she was insisting the “girls” needed a more capable chaperone than she herself could provide with her injury—such as it was.
Thus, her reasoning for sending them to Raven’s Park.
Which was ridiculous. Both Abigail and her cousin, Penelope, had long since passed the age where they required any chaperone other than each other.
“The arrangements have been made. Your Aunt Emily assured me the Spencers are more than happy for you and Penelope to join the house party.” She sighed heavily.
“Please do not be difficult about this, Abigail. After all your father and I have done! All the scandal we’ve put up with.
We do not expect arguments at every turn. ”
Abigail looked down at her hands and resisted the urge to clench them tightly.
At the age of seven-and-twenty, she was quite dependent upon her parents, and they often used the situation to treat her as a child.
One mistake! One mistake and her future turned from one of hope and optimism to one of dependency and insecurity.
Except she was determined to find some happiness, some joy, despite her circumstances.
“But we were not invited, Mother!” Abigail whispered on an exhale. She knew she was a burden to both of her parents. Their ever-present worry hung over her like a thick, black cloud.
Mr. Bernard Wright, although not a man of great fortune, was a man of property.
When the estate was initially established, a life estate was to always be in place for the widow.
This ensured security and comfort for Mrs. Wright as long as she lived but left Abigail to fend for herself upon the unfortunate event of her father and mother’s deaths.
Both of her parents constantly reminded her that she must set herself up either as a wife to some country gentleman or a companion to an aging relative.
Otherwise, she faced abject poverty eventually.
She would not be destitute. She had a few ideas. And, as a last resort, she could find a position as an elderly person’s companion. She could not contemplate marriage. She’d lost that prospect upon her epic failure in society.
She pushed these worries aside. She would enjoy her life for now, for she may not always be so fortunate. Her father, although more dependent upon spirits than she would like, was still very healthy and vigorous. As was her mother.
Except for when her mother did not wish to be, which was the case today.
“Your uncle and aunt have assured me you will be welcome,” her mother repeated.
She opened her eyes and looked sidelong at her daughter.
Studying Abigail’s gray day dress and frayed white pelisse, she added, “And do wear some of your prettier dresses, dear. You look almost fetching when you put forth an effort.” She touched her index finger to her cheek.
“Give me your kiss goodbye now. I have told Coachman John you and Penelope must leave at sunup tomorrow. I shall still be abed. I don’t want you to miss any more of the house party than you already have. ”
All spring, Abigail had anticipated Penelope’s visit.
The simple pleasures she’d looked forward to enjoying with her cousin, such as attending choir practice, visiting friends, and taking long walks around the village, were to be scrapped for a blasted summer house party.
Abigail’s mother refused to accept defeat where her only daughter’s matrimonial prospects were concerned.
When Penelope had arrived two days ago and informed Abigail’s mother that her parents, the Baron and Baroness of Riverton, were attending a house party at Raven’s Park, a cunning gleam appeared in Mrs. Wright’s eyes.
The Ravensdale family consisted of three very single, very eligible sons who were likely to be in attendance, one a viscount and the other two mere misters. But sons of an earl, nonetheless.
Abigail leaned forward, dutifully kissed her mother’s powdered cheek, and gave her a gentle hug.
Her mother was bound for disappointment.
Abigail knew better than anybody that her mother’s hopes were, in truth, quite unrealistic.
At Abigail’s advanced age, she was all too aware of her own lack of appeal to any man seeking a wife.
Aside from being on the shelf, she was certain that, although not an antidote, she could boast no real claim to beauty.
Her mother called her plump. Penelope was kind enough to refer to her as voluptuous.
Abigail had long resigned herself to the unfortunate truth that her breasts were more prominent than those of most ladies and her hips more rounded as well.
She did not feel overly large as a person, for she was short in stature and somewhat petite.
And ever since…well, she could no longer summon the enthusiasm required to maintain a slim, fashionable figure.
It would serve no purpose at this point.
And for this reason, she had no intention of forgoing cakes and biscuits with her tea.
A girl needed some indulgence in her life, after all.
Especially when one could only look forward to a very long future as a spinster.
Closing the door behind her, Abigail forced herself to smile. She would simply have to adjust her attitude and enjoy this unexpected journey. She mustn’t fear it. All would be well. Contentment was a state of mind, after all.
And so early the next morning, feeling light of heart, Abigail climbed into her parents’ ancient traveling carriage, along with her cousin, en route to a party to which she had not been invited.
She refused to dwell upon her mother’s unreasonable expectations.
The day was too beautiful to be ignored.
In addition to the fresh air and blue skies, she was embarking on this adventure with her dearest friend in the world.
“What a glorious summer this is turning out to be! So much sunshine. Everything is blooming, and the meadows are overflowing. It was kind of Lady Ravensdale to allow us to join your parents. Do you not think so, Penelope?” She’d embrace her usual optimism with a bright and determined smile.
Penelope snorted. “Oh, good one, Abby. Surely, your mother must give up on us at some point. Has she never seen the sons of Lord Ravensdale? Does she not realize they are handsome, charming, and wealthy? Does she not realize that when they choose to take wives, they will be able to select from the most beautiful and youngest ladies in London?” She ended her rhetorical questions with a roll of her eyes and then looked back out of the carriage window to watch the rolling scenery.
Abigail absorbed Penelope’s words. She herself had never laid eyes on any of Lord Ravensdale’s sons.
She had heard about them, of course. Such a prominent family as the Spencers often received mention in the newspapers and gossip sheets.
Their only daughter, in fact, had made quite a splash a few weeks ago by calling an end to her engagement with the Duke of Cortland.
The girl must be either very brave or very foolish. Abigail could never imagine exercising such assertiveness on her own behalf. Abigail looked forward to meeting Lady Natalie Spencer, however, a girl who could take matters into her own hands with such bravado. Abigail sighed and closed her eyes.
After a few hours, the carriage crested a hill and turned into a gated driveway.
This must be Raven’s Park. Ah, yes, it was.
The name of the estate had been elegantly scripted into the decorative iron entrance.
As the carriage made a slight turn, a large Georgian manor situated in a protected valley came into sight.
The patchwork of neatly tended holdings they had been traveling through gave way to a cleverly landscaped park, the perfect setting for the stately mansion.
The facade of the great home was liberally covered with ivy and closely surrounded by copses of trees, lawns, and haphazard wooded areas.
The exterior, a whitewashed limestone, contrasted with the greenery surrounding it.
In spite of its size, Abigail found it pretty and homey.
The carriage halted, and the steps were pulled down. Both of Penelope’s parents, as well as a few others, had stepped outside to greet them.
The men sported tailored suits with well-pressed cravats and shining boots while the women, not to be outdone, wore dresses made of fine materials accessorized with expensive pendants and draping pearls.
These people represented some of the highest sticklers of the ton.
They lived a different life from the rest of humanity.
A uniformed footman opened the door and reached inside the carriage to assist Penelope and Abigail outside as though they had travelled from Buckingham Palace rather than the tiny village she’d grown up in.