A Wedding Wager Read Online Free PDF

dearly, but from the first weeks at the school in Kent, she had been forced to acknowledge that his manners left much to be desired, and his bluff good humor would come across as rough and countrified in more sophisticated company. It stood to reason that those whose opinions he relied upon would not necessarily move in the elegant circles of high fashion.
    The barouche drew up outside the house on Bruton Street, and Abigail was obliged to acknowledge that with its gleaming paintwork and brass, its sparkling windows and flourishing window boxes, it certainly gave the appearance of a gentleman’s residence. She followed her mother into the house, the footman in their wake laden with parcels.
    At the sound of their steps on the parquet, the door to the library opened, and the jovial figure of William Suttonloomed large, beaming at them, one hand resting on his ample paunch. “Ah, there you both are … looking as lovely as ever. What have we here … a few trinkets, I daresay. I’ll be lucky if you don’t bankrupt me between you.” He laughed heartily at this witticism. “So, have you had a pleasant outing, my dears?”
    “Very, thank you, Papa.” Abigail stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “And I promise we won’t bankrupt you … just a scarf and some new ribbon for an old bonnet and a piece of lace to touch up Mama’s blue gown.”
    “Oh, I spoke in jest, puss, you know that.” He chuckled and patted her cheek. “Nothing is too good for you. Indeed, you should be buying new bonnets, not refurbishing old ones. Shame on you, Mrs. Sutton. I said no expense was to be spared.”
    “And none has been, my dear sir.” His wife soothed him with a well-practiced hand. “Go back into the library, and I’ll have Morrison set out a light repast. It’s been several hours since breakfast, and you know how hungry you get. Dinner will not be served until six o’clock. We live by London hours now, you must remember.”
    “How could I forget?” William said with a mock grimace. “How a man’s to eat his dinner that late and then sleep afterwards, I’ll never understand.”
    “But in general, Papa, people in Society do not sleep immediately after dinner. They rarely seek their beds until two or three in the morning, sometimes not even until the sun is up.” Abigail tried to keep a wistful noteout of her voice at the thought of such nighttime revelry but failed.
    Her father looked at her sharply. Then he shook his head. “Well, I can’t be doing with it, I’ll tell you that. But you young things … another matter … quite another matter. But I’ll not have you getting all haggard and drawn, my girl, with all these late nights. Just you remember that.”
    “Oh, I will, Papa.” Abigail dropped a curtsy, giving him a dimpling smile that made him laugh again and call her a minx. Then she turned and hurried up to her own chamber.
    She untied the ribbons of her bonnet and tossed it onto the bed before going restlessly to the window. The street below was quiet, but she could hear the sounds of London, the iron wheels on cobbles, the raucous calls of barrow boys, chairmen, and piemen, the shouts of jarveys as they drove their hackneys through the unruly traffic.
    Abigail didn’t want to be in the serenity of her chamber or even on the quiet residential street below her window. She was in London, the world at her feet, and she was cooped up waiting for someone to produce the key to the door. But she could take a walk for herself, surely? Along Piccadilly, which was not very far away, just at the end of the street, really. She took walks alone at home all the time. She would be quite safe.
    Abandoning her bonnet, Abigail ran softly downstairs, hoping not to meet a servant. She flew across thehall and pulled open the front door. Miraculously, no one had come into the hall. She stepped outside onto the top step and breathed deeply. Conscience told her she should not be doing this, at least not without an escort. This was