A Hero for Lady Abigail (A Wallflower's Wish #5) - Maggie Dallen Page 0,2

pretty, and new.” Her mother smirked. “Never underestimate the power of novelty.”

Abigail tilted her chin up higher and turned her gaze back to the crush of lords and ladies before them. She wouldn’t dignify that with an answer. The earl’s sisters might have been new, but they were still outsiders. No amount of beauty would make up for their poor manners and unfortunate upbringing.

But Abigail’s mother was right on one point. She couldn’t afford to waste the first prime husband-hunting event of the season by standing here alone on the outskirts.

Her gaze flickered left and right, dismissing every gentleman she saw as either married, unsuitable, or irredeemably unlikeable. She couldn’t afford to be too choosy, of course, but she had her standards.

“See there?” Her mother leaned in close, following her gaze like a hawk. “Lord Tennent is looking this way. Everyone knows he needs a hefty dowry to keep his estate in order.” Her mother’s fan did nothing to hide her smirk. “I’m sure he’d take pity on you.”

Abigail’s cheeks ached with the effort to keep her smile in place, her voice light and sweet. “But Mother, Lord Tennent is nearly as old you are, which means he’s…” She gave a delicate shudder. “Positively ancient.”

Her mother’s smirk fell flat but Abigail’s triumph was short-lived. She’d eyed the entire room and not one decent prospect to be found.

Well, there was one, but the Duke of Walton was notoriously elusive. It was a wonder he was here at all, although she had heard he was friends with the host. But even if the eligible duke had deigned to attend a societal event, he’d made it clear he was in no rush to marry.

And Abigail was. It would not do to set her sights so very high when the odds were not in her favor.

She tried to swallow down the growing panic, but her mouth was dry and her last conversation with her father rang in her ears. He wasn’t nearly as harsh as her mother, but perhaps that was why his stern lecture had hurt so much more than anything her mother had said over the years. You’ve become an embarrassment, Abbie.... You’re too much like your mother…. It will take a miracle to find a man who can tolerate you.... What on earth are you waiting for?

What was she waiting for? The question had been hounding her for days. Not love, nor romance, obviously. She wasn’t so foolish to believe in all that. So what then?

“Well, dear? Which one of these wonderful prospects will you pursue?” her mother asked.

Abigail pressed her lips together. Right. It was time to pick someone. Anyone would do just so long as it silenced her mother and gave her a chance to breathe.

The crowd to her right parted and her eye was caught by a flash of a tall gentleman she couldn’t immediately place. Could it be...someone new? More importantly, there was no wife at his side. Was it possible that there was a new eligible gentleman in town for the season?

Abigail’s heart gave a little kick in her chest at the sight of a full head of dark brown hair and broad shoulders. He certainly was not one of the usual crowd of bachelors she’d come to know so well. He turned and his profile became visible. Not ancient, so there was that. His nose was straight, his jaw nice and square. His full lips curved up in a smile and her heart did that thing again. A fierce thud. Excitement, that’s what it was. Excitement and...hope.

Perhaps he could be a viable option. He at least was someone different, someone attractive and young and not of her mother’s choosing. He was someone...he was someone she recognised. She blinked in surprise as he turned slightly giving her a clear view of his face. Yes, she definitely recognized him—Major something or other. He was a close friend of the Marquess of Arundel and she recalled meeting him briefly at the marquess’s house party this past spring and then again when the marquess married that shy little mouse.

She narrowed her eyes as she tried to remember what she knew of him. No title. She wasn’t sure about wealth. Definitely not married.

Her mother’s eyes were on her; she could feel the weight of her stare. She kept her own gaze on the major as he drew closer, his attention fixed on someone past her. He had kind eyes and a handsome smile. For now, that was enough. That was