Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau by Maggie Dallen (amazing books to read TXT) 📕

wobbled. For a moment he wondered—if the younger sisters had Abigail and Minerva, who did Abigail and Minerva have?

His heart gave an unexpected lurch in his chest as he became increasingly aware of the little ones rushing around, looking to Abigail for comfort and protection. They looked to her to take care of them.

But who took care of Abigail?

She turned quickly and he was caught staring. For a moment, that brilliant smile of hers faltered at whatever she saw in his expression, but then her eyes warmed with affection and a happiness that made his chest tighten painfully.

“Do we have a deal then?” she asked.

He didn’t have to think. He nodded. Of course they had a deal. Was it wise to continue these daily visits? Of course not. But she would be leaving soon enough, and so would he. So where was the harm?

And besides, this way he could keep an eye on her until she left. He’d keep her safe. He’d make sure she was happy. And when it was time for her to leave, he’d let her go...

To find another man.

Chapter 7

Abigail took a sip of her soup and tried not to notice how empty the room was.

It was difficult to do when the only sound breaking the silence was that of slurping. For a table that was typically overrun with laughter and chatter and conversation, this new state of silence felt suffocating.

But her father wasn’t a man of many words, and even now Hattie looked lost in thought. Daydreaming, no doubt.

“Any word from Sally and Rebecca?” she asked.

Both her father and Hattie glanced up with wide eyes, startled out of their reveries.

Tenderness toward them both had her holding back a laugh. She could only imagine how quiet and serene it would be around here when all the older sisters married and left the house and it was only these two.

She bit back a sigh. It was bound to happen, of course. They couldn’t all stay here in this town and in this house forever. They would all go off and marry. Start families of their own. Thoughts of her looming trip to London threatened to mar her good humor so she pushed those thoughts to the side.

“Hmm?” her father said. Then he blinked and brushed some soup off his white mustache. “No, nothing yet. I imagine they’ve only just gotten settled. Dr. Roberts says the old earl is a rather demanding patient so Sally no doubt has her work cut out for her.”

Hattie’s lips curved up in a mischievous little grin. “And Rebecca has her work cut out for her trying to fit in amongst the fine lords and ladies.”

Abigail laughed and their father chuckled as he said, “I imagine she’s in heaven right about now.”

Yet another sigh nearly escaped. Rebecca would be over the moon for the chance to head to London for the season. This was what she wanted, not Abigail. It hardly seemed fair that she was chosen, merely because of her advanced age.

Advanced age. She frowned down at her soup. That made her sound like an elderly spinster.

Which she would be if she did not take steps to marry.

“Are you all right, Abigail?” her father’s voice cut through her thoughts.

She blinked and lifted her head with a smile. “Yes, of course. I was just thinking about my trip to London.”

He nodded. “It was kind of my sister to offer.” Despite his words, his eyes looked clouded with concern. “You do wish to go, don’t you?”

She paused to consider her answer. She’d never been one to lie, and she did not wish to start now. “I wish to find a husband,” she said with a rueful smile. “And London seems to be the place for it.”

Hattie and her father stared at her, the force of their concern stifling. What she needed was Minerva here to strike up a new conversation, or Sally to joke about the fancy airs she’d have to put up with, which would be followed by Rebecca’s laughing argument that it wasn’t fancy airs if these lords and ladies were born into it.

As it was, Abigail, Hattie, and their father fell back into silence.

After another long stretch, Abigail tried again. “Has there been any news of Roger?”

Her father frowned. “I’m afraid not.”

She sat back in her seat, her soup temporarily forgotten. “What do you suppose he’d meant by ‘she will murder me?’” Those were the words she hadn’t been able to forget from that awful encounter in the cave. She will murder me, Roger had said. She. Who was she?

Her father paused in his eating but he did not glance up so she could not gauge his reaction.

Exasperated, no doubt. She and Minerva had been hung up on that comment ever since that night. For Abigail, Roger’s words in the cave had clung to her memory, repeating over and over again at the most inconvenient times. Like when she was supposed to be sleeping. She had this suspicion that she was supposed to know who ‘she’ was, or that by learning who ‘she’ was they would understand why Roger had done what he’d done, and why here in Billingham, of all places.

She supposed it was only natural that such an eventful night would not be easily forgotten. It was difficult not to play the game of ‘if only’ and ‘what if’ when she did. What if she’d let Roger leave without following? Would anything have turned out differently?

Caleb wouldn’t have been hurt, no doubt. Perhaps Roger wouldn’t have escaped. Guilt gnawed at her, as always. She would never forget the sheer shock and terror when Roger had lunged toward her with a knife, nor the surprise when Caleb had thrown himself in front of her, taking the force of the knife to spare her.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so foolish and impulsive they would have their answers. The answers Marcus, Caleb, and their men had come to Billingham to find. Namely, who was behind this new pirate ring that