Conquering her Heart Read online

  “What kind of gentleman are you looking for, my dear?” Aunt Mara tried, knowing full well that Abigail had no intention of accepting any kind of gentleman.

  “It’s my dowry!” Abigail exclaimed, ignoring her aunt’s question. Settling her hands on her hips, she glared at…nothing, but would have if her grandfather had been there. “He did this on purpose to get his way!”

  Aunt Mara frowned. “Would you not say it was kind of him to bestow such a large dowry on you? After all, you’re a duke’s granddaughter, and you deserve no less.”

  Smiling sweetly at her aunt, Abigail shook her head. “He didn’t do it for me…or perhaps only to upset me.” A frown drew down her brows as she remembered the sparkle of delight in her grandfather’s eyes when she had come home after refusing her first−and luckily, so far her only−marriage proposal, lashing out at him in her dismay, basically ordering him to withdraw her dowry.

  All he had done was shaken his head, once again reminding her to address him as your grace.

  As Abigail had no intention of ever doing so, she had stormed off, not in the least affected by the dark scowl that usually hung on his face. It had only taken a few days for her to realise that her grandfather loved nothing more than to make others tremble in fear. It was his favourite pastime, which he went to great length for.

  Oh, she would not tremble! Abigail vowed. At least not with fear! With indignation, most likely! Annoyance, definitely!

  Still, the question remained: what was she to do? If this was a game, then her grandfather was winning. And that upset her even more than she liked to admit.

  “All right, let’s think this over again.” Rubbing her temples, Abigail closed her eyes for a moment, forcing all thoughts to focus on the task at hand. “They pursue me because of grandfather’s dowry, and he is most unwilling to do anything about that, which means I need to give them another reason to…come to their senses and leave me alone. But how?”

  Aunt Mara sighed, a somewhat amused smile on her face. “Oh, dear, there is nothing you could do to discourage them. I assure you it is not merely the dowry his grace bestowed upon you, but your own charms, your kindness and beauty.”

  “That’s it!” Abigail exclaimed, clapping her hands together, before meeting her aunt’s rather widened eyes. “My dowry might be a great incentive; however, I doubt London’s gentlemen would overlook a potential bride’s enormous deficiencies to obtain it.”

  Aunt Mara frowned, a worried tone in her voice. “What on earth do you mean, Child?”

  Laughing, Abigail brushed a curl of her dark hair behind her ear as relief flooded her being. “It’s rather simple, I should say. All I have to do is turn myself into an extreme of the worst kind, and they will have no choice but to reconsider sharing their life with a woman as unsuitable as me.”

  “But you’re not unsuitable, my dear. Why would you think that?” Aunt Mara objected. “You’re such a beau−”

  “Not yet!” Abigail interrupted. “But that can be helped.” Then she turned to the modiste, who had been listening to their exchange with rapt attention. “Do you have anything in orange?”

  “Orange?” The woman squeaked, casting a careful glance at Aunt Mara. “I beg your pardon, miss, but it…it clashes with your skin tone. A warm r−”

  “Exactly!” Abigail said triumphantly, allowing her gaze to sweep across the many accessories displayed in the shop. “Wouldn’t an orange gown look lovely with that turquoise shawl over there?”

  The looks on the modiste’s and her aunt’s faces said quite impressively that it would not…which was exactly why Abigail insisted on purchasing it.

  Oh, this was only the beginning! And her grandfather would come to regret the day he had chosen to cross swords with her!

  ***

  As temperatures began to climb, London’s flowers started to awaken from their long sleep, finally able to bask in the warm sun once more and showing off their beautiful colours. As did the ladies of the ton. However, one lady had chosen rather unflattering colours.

  Walking into the ballroom with her loyal aunt by her side, Abigail forced herself to suppress the grin that so desperately wanted to show itself to the world. As before, all eyes−or at least most eyes!−turned to her. However, the look in them had changed considerably, and that pleased Abigail greatly as she silently congratulated herself on her ingenious plan. After all, it was working perfectly!

  Brushing her hands down her bright yellow gown, a black sash running from one shoulder across her middle to lay gently at her hip, Abigail smiled her brightest smile as though she believed that the crowd that could not help but stare at her thought her the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. In truth, Abigail was certain that she resembled a bumble bee!

  The only thing that dulled her feelings of euphoria was the rather strained look on her aunt’s face. As most people tended to simply overlook her, she had grown accustomed to their inattention and found being in the spotlight a rather uncomfortable experience. Still, she did not abandon her niece, and Abigail was truly grateful to her.

  Strolling over to the refreshment table, Abigail helped herself to a glass of lemonade, handing another one to her aunt. Then they strolled through Lord Passmore’s large townhouse, nodding their heads at acquaintances left and right. Although people returned their greeting, few dared approach, and when one gentleman with a rather glassy look to his eyes finally did, he was rewarded with a glass of lemonade spilled down his front.

  “Oh, my lord, look what you did!” Abigail exclaimed in a rather high-pitched voice, loud enough for all to hear, pretending she had had no hand in the poor man’s-soaked shirt. “You ought to watch your step and perhaps try to refrain from indulging in Lord Passmore’s spirits.” Gasps echoed to her ears at her frank reprimand of an earl of the ton. Still, Abigail could not deny that she delighted in these little games!

  Mumbling an apology, Aunt Mara drew her aside. “Please, think this through, Child. If you continue to antagonise these people, you will be left all alone. Is that what you want?”

  Abigail sighed, knowing that her aunt meant well. “What I want is not to be married off to a man who could not care less about who I am.”

  “But this is not who you are!” her aunt insisted.

  Abigail shrugged. “Maybe a little. Still, no gentleman has ever tried to find out more about me besides the amount of my dowry.”

  Aunt Mara shook her head. “Would you if it were reversed? Would you wish to get to know a gentleman who spilled his drink on you? Who stepped on your toes while dancing and then accused you of stepping on his? Who knocks down a priceless antique without even apologising and then blames you for placing it in an inconvenient spot?” Again, she shook her head at Abigail. “I should think not.”

  Abigail laughed, “You know me too well, dear Aunt. However, at present, I have no wish to get better acquainted with the gentlemen of the ton.” She swallowed, and her voice sobered as grief fought its way out into the open. “I’ve only just lost my father, and I cannot see myself opening my heart to anyone right now.” Looking at her aunt with pleading eyes, Abigail grasped the older woman’s hands. “But these little games take my mind off the sadness and loss, and for a short while, they make me smile. Is that truly so bad?”

  Aunt Mara sighed, then gently patted Abigail’s hand. “Of course not, Dear. You have a kind heart, and you do deserve true happiness. All I am worried about is that you might one day find yourself wishing for a husband, only to find that your reputation is standing in the way of a happy union. After all, people are already calling y−” Clasping her mouth shut, Aunt Mara averted her gaze, a tinge of red coming to her pale cheeks.

  Abigail chuckled, “You need not worry, Aunt. I am aware what people call me.” She smiled at the shocked expression on her aunt’s face and squared her shoulders to pronounce proudly, “The most awful woman in all of England!”

  “You know this?” Aunt Mara gasped, wringing her hands nervously. “I’m sorry.
I−”

  “Don’t be,” Abigail interrupted. “After all, I’ve worked hard for my reputation. Do you think it’s easy to speak with this shrill tone in my voice? Or to step on my dance partner’s toes? Not at all. It requires great precision. Not everyone could do it.” Smiling encouragingly, Abigail drew one of her aunt’s hands into hers. “Do not worry, Aunt Mara. I know what I’m doing, and I want you to know that I’m enjoying myself quite profusely. The added side effect is that I haven’t received a single marriage proposal in over a fortnight.” Drawing her aunt’s arm through the crook of her own, she pulled her toward the refreshment table. “Come, let’s drink to this.” A chuckle rose from her throat. “I promise I shall do my utmost not to spill my drink on you.”

  Aunt Mara rolled her eyes at her niece. However, Abigail delighted in the soft smile that came to the older woman’s lips. “You’ll be the death of me, my dear.”

  “Oh, I love you, too, Aunt Mara,” Abigail trilled, knowing how fortunate she was that her grandfather had sent for her. Otherwise, she would have been all alone in the world. And it felt so good to be loved.

  Chapter Two − The Most Awful Woman in all of England

  With his sister happily married to his oldest friend, Griffin Radley, Earl of Amberly, had begun to feel like a third wheel. Although he considered both his closest confidantes, the dynamic in their relationship had changed. Now, Winifred and Trent only had eyes for each other, and although Griffin was happy to see them so…well, happy, he could not help but envy the bond between them. Was it time for him to find a wife?

  The thought had occurred to him ever since his little sister had decided she was getting old and would need to find a husband fast if she wanted to be a mother. Fortunately, he had been able to sway her from her path of obtaining a husband through her rather practical approach and lead her into the arms of the man she had loved all her life. Still, their happily-ever-after had come at a price…for Griffin!

  To have a say in her choice, Griffin had to enter into a pact with his rational-minded sister, giving her an equal say when it came to finding the right woman for him. And now that Winifred was happily married, she loved nothing better than to remind him of that fact and tease him endlessly. He would have thought she’d be grateful for his interference as it had led to a most fortunate outcome of this whole husband-hunting nonsense. Still, Winifred had a bit of a wicked side to her, and he did not think she would stop teasing him any time soon.

  While chatting with a couple of friends, Griffin glanced across the room at the dance floor where his sister and her new husband twirled around to the notes of yet another waltz. Although they seemed to be arguing about…something−as they commonly did−their eyes glowed with devotion, and Griffin could not deny a deep sense of satisfaction at having been instrumental in seeing his sister happily married.

  “They look happy,” his friend Lord Berenton commented, his bushy eyebrows going up and down like a caterpillar crawling over his face. “Still,” he chuckled, a teasing gleam in his eyes, “I cannot help but be cross with you for giving them your blessing. Have I not told you time and time again that she was the one for me?”

  Griffin laughed, “I assure you I only gave them my blessing to protect you. My sister has a way of pushing people over the edge, and I’m afraid to say this, but you are no match for her.”

  Berenton’s bushy eyebrows drew down. “Do you think so poorly of me?”

  “Not at all, old friend. But I know my sister too well. Believe me, the day they got married was your lucky day.”

  “You sound a tad relieved.” Squinting his eyes, Berenton watched him. “Do you not miss her company?”

  Griffin sighed. Terribly.

  However, before he could answer, the happy couple came walking toward them, joining their little circle. Instantly, Berenton turned to Winifred, and Griffin tried to roll his eyes at him quietly. “My congratulations on your wedding. From what Amberly told me he is quite relieved to have his sister well married.” Turning to Griffin, Berenton grinned at him. “I cannot understand why you had trouble marrying her off. A beauty like her.”

  Griffin sighed. If only you knew! Remembering the many sleepless nights and stressful days when he had tried his best to prove to his sister that love was the best reason to choose a husband, only to have her rational mind thwart him time and time again, Griffin still could not help but feel exhausted. Maybe he should repay the favour and tease her as much as she always delighted in teasing him.

  Grinning at her, Griffin told his friend, “Mind you, she had no lack of suitors. However, I’m afraid my sister was quite particular about the kind of husband she had in mind. I tell you it caused me many sleepless nights.”

  Everyone laughed, and more than one friend patted him on the shoulder as though he had just crossed the African desert and made it through alive.

  As expected, payback was not far off.

  Turning to her brother, Winifred smiled at him sweetly. Still, having known her all his life, Griffin had no trouble detecting the touch of mischief that had come to her eyes. “I suppose that it is now my turn to find my brother a suitable bride.”

  Unable to keep his stomach from twisting into knots, Griffin took a deep breath as laughter echoed around him. Deep down, he had to admit he was waiting for the day she would finally make good on her threat! Would today be the day?

  Perhaps it was the suspense that was killing him.

  Although he had no doubt that his sister loved him, he also knew her tendency to rationalise emotions. What if she found him a bride she truly believed to be his perfect match? And what if said bride did not appeal to him at all? Would his sister insist, thinking she knew better? Thinking he would eventually come around? Or would she show mercy?

  As though he had read Griffin’s thoughts, Berenton declared with utter delight. “You’re at her mercy now, Amberly!” Then he turned smiling eyes to Winifred, and Griffin felt as though he was going to be sick. “My lady, if you require any assistance, do not hesitate to call on me. I’m quite familiar with a number of eligible ladies and could point you in the right direction.”

  “How kind of you, my lord,” Winifred trilled in that voice that meant she was up to no good.

  “In fact, there are many eligible ladies here tonight,” Berenton continued, completely unimpressed by the threatening glares Griffin shot him. “However, I would advise against Miss Abbott.” He leaned closer into the group and whispered, “She’s rumoured to be the most awful woman in all of England.”

  Griffin almost groaned at the intrigued look that came to his sister’s gaze, and he knew that he was doomed. Still, shock had his eyes popping open and his jaw dropping down. “Oh, no, you wouldn’t,” he stammered, aware that no matter what he did his sister’s mind was already made up.

  Smiling sweetly, Winifred met his gaze. “You gave me your word, dear brother, and besides what’s fair is fair.” Then she turned to Berenton. “Would you be so kind as to point out Miss Abbott to me?”

  Berenton’s face lit up with delight, and he winked at Griffin. “I most certainly would.”

  Groaning, Griffin forced a deep breath into his lungs, glaring at Berenton as he escorted Winifred across the room. Very well! This was a friend he could certainly do without!

  “Do you know who this Miss Abbott is?” Trent asked beside him as everyone’s gaze remained fixed on Berenton and Winifred, trying to catch a glimpse of London’s most eligible shrew!

  “I do not,” Griffin forced out through gritted teeth, feeling his pulse hammering in his neck. Suddenly, his collar seemed much too tight for comfort, reminding him of a hangman’s noose!

  With many couples occupying the dance floor and blocking their view, Griffin had to crane his neck. His gaze swept over several good-looking young ladies before he saw Berenton stop to introduce Winifred to…

  Griffin’s mouth fell open. “She cannot be serious?”

  Trent cleared his throat, the expression on his face speaking of
a similar disbelief. “One should think so. However, knowing your sister, I’m afraid you’re out of luck, my friend.”

  Feeling the blood in his veins turn to ice, Griffin stared as his sister smiled amicably at a young woman in a painfully bright pink gown with orange blossoms, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, making her face appear as though it was stretched to its limits. Even from across the room, he could hear her shrill laugh as she returned his sister’s greeting, her hands gesturing wildly and−inevitably−smacking Lord Stockdale on the side of the face.

  Surprised, the young gentleman held a hand to his cheek, looking rather taken aback at the young woman beside him. Miss Abbott, however, did not seem to see any fault in her actions for the look on her face did not speak of an offered apology, but a reprimand instead.

  “She can’t be serious,” Griffin whispered, all air leaving his body as his future loomed threateningly on the horizon. “She wouldn’t be that cruel, would she?” Forcing his gaze away, Griffin stared at Trent. “Did I do anything to make her angry? Is she mad at me? I mean, did I not do everything in my power to see her happy? I found her perfect match after all.”

  Trent smiled at the compliment. “Don’t take this too seriously. You know your sister. You know how she loves to tease. Simply play along…and this’ll all go away…eventually.”

  Griffin drew in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he watched his sister speak to Miss Abbott. This woman was impossible, and yet, Winifred acted as though she had met an old friend, leaning in conspiratorially and whispering something Griffin did not doubt would lead to his doom.