A Hero for Lady Abigail by Dallen, Maggie (i can read book club txt) 📕

up sufficiently after years of neglect. He gestured to the crowd before them, most of whom were eligible bachelors or young ladies awaiting the next dance in the ballroom. “Everyone here is following in their parents’ footsteps. Tradition, it's called.” He shook his head. “More like, an endless cycle of foolery.”

She cocked her head to the side, suddenly very curious about the life this man had led, and all the experiences that had led him here. For the first time ever, she wished she’d paid attention to his stories.

“How do you deal with such halfwits?” she asked.

“I drive them to tears with boring tales,” he said with a wicked little grin.

Her jaw dropped.

“What do you do?” he asked.

I drive them away.

He was watching her expectantly, and she gave him a rueful smile. “I’m trying to break the cycle, I suppose.”

He reached out and bopped her on the nose as though she were a small child and not a grown lady—and the daughter of a duke. “Now that’s a smart girl.”

He turned back. “Ah, here comes a man I can tolerate.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “That’s high praise from me.”

“I believe it.” She was still smiling as she turned to see…him.

Her mind went blank and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. Good heavens. Major Mayfield cut quite a fine figure striding through the crowd like a man with a purpose. With his gaze locked on hers, the crowd seemed to part before him. He had that kind of air about him. She could feel it from where she stood.

He wasn’t just a good man. He was a strong man. Strong, and proud, and...noble. That was the word she was searching for. Like a knight out of some children’s tale.

She gave her head a little shake and nearly laughed aloud at the ridiculous notion.

“Lady Abigail.” He bowed handsomely before turning his attention to Sir Geoffrey, who waved away his questions about his health and his travels with an impatient gesture. “What are you two doing over here with the likes of me? Go on.” He shooed them away as he reached for a cane.

“I’ve only just arrived,” the major said. “There’s plenty of time for a conversation or—”

“No, no.” Sir Geoffrey scowled. “It’s already too late for me. I’m off to my rooms for some rest.”

“Are you certain?” It was Major Mayfield who asked the question but Sir Geoffrey’s gaze landed on Lady Abigail when he answered.

“I’m quite certain. But you two…” He eyed the crowd behind them. “You belong out there.”

“With the other fools?” she murmured as he passed.

She could hear him laughing as he walked away. With the elderly man gone, she was suddenly alone with the major. Well, alone in a crowded room, but all the same... The silliest sensation took hold of her. Rather than that blasted knot, her belly seemed to be aflutter with butterflies. She clasped her hands together, suddenly nervous, and excited and—oh, what on earth was this?

She’d never been nervous about speaking privately with a gentleman, not even during her very first season.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Major Mayfield?” she asked. She couldn’t have stopped her grin if she’d tried. She hadn’t seen him at all in the past hour of wandering the manor and had started to believe he wouldn’t join in on the fun at all. But here he was.

But then, of course, he had likely come to join the revelry for Charlotte.

Her smile started to fade, just as he held out a hand. “I was hoping you would honor me with a dance.”

She blinked up at him, certain he was teasing. His smile was small and sweet, his eyes dark and so sincere it hurt her chest to look at it. Say yes. Say yes, you ninny. “Shouldn’t you be asking Miss Charlotte Ainsworth for this dance?”

His smile warmed as a slight crinkle of confusion formed between his brows. “There’s plenty of time for that. I’m asking you.”

Right. He would seek Charlotte out soon enough, but he’d come for her because… “Major Mayfield, did you feel sorry for me?”

The moment the sharp accusation escaped, she wished she could call it back.

His brows lifted as he dropped his hand. “What? No. That is...I wouldn’t phrase it that way, precisely.”

She sighed. That had told her everything. The major was too honest to deny the truth outright.

He shifted closer and lowered his voice. It was then she realized that several groups of partygoers were watching with unconcealed interest. Instinct had her plastering her smile back in place and straightening her spine.

For a moment there with that unusual chat with Sir Geoffrey and then the sudden appearance of Major Mayfield—she’d almost forgotten where she was.

Why she was here.

She brightened her smile and held her hand out. “I’d be delighted, Major.”

His smile held a hint of relief that she hadn’t pushed the issue of whether this was a pity dance or not. They both knew it was, but she appreciated that he’d done it. That he’d been kind enough to put aside his own courtship goals and the whispers of the ton to give her this…

Her throat was oddly tight as she let him lead her toward the ballroom. “The good news is, if Charlotte sees you dancing with me, she’ll be beside herself to have you claim her very next dance.”

Major Mayfield made a hmph noise that was either agreement or amusement, it was difficult to say.

When he had her in his arms, he didn’t say anything at all. Not at first, at least. They fell into the rhythm of the waltz as though they’d danced together countless times and not just the one.

For a long moment he held her gaze as they moved together, the music swelling as they circled the room along with the others. “Where did you learn to dance so well?” she asked.

His eyes widened. “I wasn’t aware that I danced particularly well.”

“You do.”

His lips hitched up on one side.