The ride over to the Duke of Northingshire’s ball was not a very comfortable one. Although the duke kept up a conversation with Gilchrist on matters of the war, politics, and gentlemen they knew in common, the tension was still high.
Lady Abigail could not see how this scarred man before her could possibly be the Colton Frasier she had heard so much about over the years.
This man seemed to be quiet and reserved. When he did speak, he was abrupt and very coarse in his manner. It didn’t match well with the image of a playful gentleman who always seemed to win the crowds with humor and charm.
When they entered the hall, even Lady Abigail felt embarrassed for the earl. The number of stares and pointed whispers were frankly rude. One elderly woman actually screamed and, in a very loud tone, told her companion how frightfully garish the earl looked.
For his part, Lord Gilchrist did his best to ignore it, as did the rest of the party. Nevertheless, his mood significantly soured with each look and whisper.
Lady Abigail usually enjoyed the spreading of news that others might call gossip and even rather liked it when it was her in the limelight. This type of attention was not to her taste, though. To make matters worse, as the earl lost his temper over rude looks, he began to be more vocal about his opinion.
It came to a head when the elderly woman spoke so brazenly for the whole room to hear.
“Perhaps if you don’t like it, you should look the other way,” he said to the room as a whole.
This, of course, only caused more whispers.
“My dear, Mrs. Henderson was just surprised,” Isabella cooed to calm him. “She is so hard of hearing; I expect she thought she was whispering.”
“I don’t care about the old crone’s hearing,” the earl spat back tartly.
“Perhaps a turn on the dance floor might lighten your mood,” Lady Louisa suggested. “You used to love dancing.”
Lady Abigail thought Louisa added these words in a desperate attempt to find the brother she once had.
He simply tapped his cane to the floor, a little louder than necessary, and said, “I can’t imagine many ladies would find it enjoyable to dance with this, or this,” he motioned to his face with his free hand.
Although she was ashamed to admit it, Lady Abigail feared that she might be volunteered for the job. All she had seen of the earl thus far was a rude, crabby man with no manners at all.
That image was not lost on all the others in attendance at the ball. If she were to dance a set with him, what would that say about her hopes of securing any prospects?
“Even if I could find a willing partner,” he added seeing that his words had hurt his sister, “my leg would be far too weak to keep up.”
“Come, old chap,” the duke said, motioning to Gilchrist. “Let us leave these ladies to their socializing while you and I join the gentlemen in the smoking room.”
Lord Gilchrist couldn’t help but be thankful for the friendship of the duke. He was the only one who had honestly looked at him no differently than before and wasn’t put off by his sharp attitude.
For the latter, he tried his best to curtail it. There was so much anger boiling up inside of him since he joined the regulars that he scarcely thought he would ever keep his words down at a proper level.
It was not just that he had gone off to battle and seen things that not another in his company, with the exception of perhaps the duke, could even begin to imagine. It was also that so much had been lost in the process.
Because of his ridiculous need for adventure, he had changed himself permanently, both inside and out. What nagged at him even more was the genuine possibility that not only had his father been right in calling his commission a poor choice, but it had also led to his father’s death. It was something that Gilchrist neither could forgive himself for, nor did he expect his mother or sister ever would.
He was happy to leave the company of the women. Both his sister and Isabella seemed so keen on putting him in some kind of happy mood or creating enjoyment in the event when it was impossible for him to find any.
Then there was the duke’s younger sister. Naturally, she was the most distant from him of them all, as they had yet to meet each other before this night. Nothing had pained him more than the look on her face when Louisa had suggested dancing.
It was a look of pure terror that she would be the likely candidate. In years past, a beautiful young lady such as Lady Abigail Grant would have been happy to turn the floor with him. But now, she had looked at him with pure fear and horror that doing so might ruin her reputation forever.
He was glad for the duke’s suggestion to escape from his sister’s presence and hoped he wouldn’t have to ever see her again. Gilchrist knew that wouldn’t be hard since, from the moment he entered the ball, he determined that it would surely be his last.
Gilchrist would not run from the party and let the gossipers know that they had gotten to him. He would also not subject himself to such ridicule ever again. If that meant staying within the confines of his home, then he would do so.
Lady Abigail felt the evening take a turn for the better once the men left them. She observed herself visibly relax at their departure. She hadn’t even noticed how tense she was holding herself.
At first, the ladies stayed in their own trio and talked about the preparations for the Foundling Hospital project. Soon, Lady Fortuna joined them and they began to plan in earnest when they would meet and what they would accomplish first.
All of them agreed that warm, thick nightgowns and quilts were of the utmost importance. Making sure the children had comfortable beds and warm clothing seemed to be the wisest use of the ladies' time.
Lady Abigail, of course, was given the task of collecting the fabric scraps and cutting them into proper shapes for the desired quilts. Perhaps if she did well enough at that, she might graduate to sewing the patches together.
Both Lady Abigail and the duchess decided upon making the quilts first. Isabella was excited at the prospect of turning out the most creative decorative beddings that time would allow her.
Lady Fortuna and Lady Louisa, therefore, would make nightgowns for both the girls and the boys.
As the night progressed and the festivities continued, Lady Abigail quickly got swept up in the excitement of the ball. She danced several sets with young men she knew well, including Lord Fenton.
He stayed with the ladies after the set and happily recited stories he had heard of the duke’s younger years. He was such a pleasant, diverting man to have around, that Lady Abigail almost forgot altogether the discomfort she had felt earlier in the earl’s presence.
The mood shifted when the duke and Gilchrist returned to the party toward the end of the evening. They both smelled of rich tobacco and brandy, and it even seemed that the earl's spirits were higher than before.
“I was hoping I might take you for a turn, if you are up for it, my dear?” the duke said to his wife.
He always felt her to be so delicate in her condition but, in reality, she had been secretly hoping for the good exercise of a dance to get her blood pumping after standing in one place for so long.
“It is good to see you, Lord Gilchrist,” Fenton said with a slight bow. “I heard the news that you are back in town.”
Unlike the duke, who was man enough to see Gilchrist as the gentleman he once was, the earl found his old friend Fenton lacking in that department.
Suddenly, the relaxation of drinks and cigars with the duke in a leather comfortable chair melted back to the reality surrounding him.
Because of Fenton’s faltering, Gilchrist only gave him a curt nod in return. Seeing that he was not about to converse, Lord Fenton turned back to the ladies.
“I was rather hoping to invite you to join me in the park tomorrow evening, Lady Abigail, before your brother returned. I do not doubt that he won't allow such a thing.”
“No, I would not. I am all too aware that you will not only plan to take her to another gig race but maybe even allow her to be in one.”
“Thankfully, my brother has no say over what I do during the day,” Lady Abigail said pointedly. “Therefore, I will be happy to accompany you on a carriage ride around the park. Should we find ourselves at an impromptu race, all the better.”
Before the duke could retort, his wife drew his attention to a new set about to start and his promise to dance with her.
“How about you, Lord Gilchrist?” Fenton said, turning to his old friend.
He was moderately put off by the look of Lord Gilchrist, but one more body at the race meant more bets and a more significant cut for himself. He may have been sensitive next to Gilchrist now, but Lord Fenton was not below taking his money.
“I find racing to be an altogether waste of one's time. It is merely entertainment for those too simple to find actual substance of interest.”
Lady Abigail opened her mouth in shock. Not only had he insulted Lord Fenton, but her as well.
“You didn’t used to feel that way,” Lord Fenton said, partly under his breath.
“Yes, and then I realized that life has more to offer than these useless pastimes.”
“Yes, and how did that work out for you?” Lord Fenton spat back, no longer hiding his distaste behind civility.
The look on Gilchrist's face was altogether terrifying for the women. Lady Louisa was half worried that her brother might actually break out in a fist fight, right there and then.
He may have always been an energetic man, but he was never one prone to let anger get away from him. It was an entirely new side she was seeing of him and she didn’t like it.