Page 68

“You’re most welcome, my lovelies,” he said, patting them each on the head. “Now run along and play, so I can speak with your new aunt.”

But Heather, flushed with excitement, was already spinning her top on the ground between them. “Look, Aunt Abigail! It goes faster if you twist it like this.” She demonstrated with exaggerated movements, bumping against the baron’s leg and leaving a smear of dirt on his expensive breeches.

“Mind your manners, child,” Lord Hollan said, swiping at the stain with an irritated glare.

“It’s quite all right,” Abigail said, placing a hand on Heather’s shoulder. “Children should be allowed to play, especially with new toys. Your gift was most thoughtful.”

“Could you tie this in my hair?” Mary Ann pressed the ribbon into Abigail’s hand, her expression hopeful.

“Certainly, dear.” Abigail knelt, using the moment to place herself between the girls and their cousin. As she worked the ribbon into Mary Ann’s neat braid, Lord Hollan looked on with an expression that shifted between calculation and disdain.

“Such a natural touch you have, Your Grace,” he remarked, twirling his walking stick. “Helena worried terribly about the girls’ future, you know, should anything happen to her and Edward,” he said, glancing at Abigail. “A mother’s concern is so poignant, isn’t it? Though I suppose you’ve yet to experience that particular anxiety.”

Abigail’s fingers faltered on the ribbon.Like any good manipulator, he knows just where to strike, hurting but leaving no marks.

Heather’s top spun into Hollan’s polished boot and he kicked it away with a huff. Heather scurried after it with Mary Ann on her heels.

Abigail picked up her parasol and pinned the baron with a frosty look. “The girls and I learn from each other daily, which is how I believe all parents must proceed.”

Hollan’s smile turned brittle, the edge of it sharpening to a point. “How charmingly optimistic, Duchess. Though, forgive me—I forget you’ve held that title for only a matter of days. Perhaps true understanding takes longer than a weekend to acquire?”

Heather scrambled after her top, which had veered toward the pond’s edge. “Cousin Freddy! Can you catch a duck?” she calledover her shoulder. “Mary Ann says it’s impossible, but I think you could do it.”

“Don’t be silly. Ducks can fly away,” Mary Ann scolded, though she looked equally curious about the answer.

Hollan laughed, the sound bright and false as a counterfeit coin. “I’m afraid even I have limitations, my dear.” He stepped closer to Abigail, lowering his voice. “Though I suspect you might have better luck—you seem quite accomplished at acquiring things beyond your reach.”

The insult hit its mark with surgical precision. Heat rushed to Abigail’s cheeks, but before she could respond, Heather’s attention shifted to something over Abigail’s shoulder.

She turned to see Graham striding down the hill like a storm gathering strength. He stopped beside her, bracing his legs and crossing his arms, the stance a soldier expecting attack.

“Hollan.” The name emerged like a curse.

“Your Grace.” The baron’s smile widened, though it held no warmth. “How lovely to see you looking so domesticated.”

The air between the two men crackled with tension—volatile, like a match poised over a powder keg. Subtly, she shifted closer to the girls. She wasn’t sure who concerned her more—the man who smiled too much, or the one who wasn’t smiling at all.

“What are you doing here?” Graham demand.

“Visiting family, naturally.” Baron Hollan spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Surely you don’t begrudge me the pleasure of seeing my little treasures and of course, meeting your new duchess.”

He said the last word as if referring to something unseemly. Abigail’s fingers twitched with the sudden, unladylike urge to slap the smirk from his face.

“Cousin Freddy brought us presents,” Mary Ann said, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her.

Graham’s jaw worked as if he were grinding glass between his teeth. “Of course he did.”

“I do try to stay involved in their lives.” The baronadjusted the lace at his cuff with deliberate care. “Children need stability, don’t you think? Pity all they have is you.”

Graham took half a step forward before catching himself. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Speaking of which,” Lord Hollan continued, “I believe we have an appointment to discuss just that. Thursday, was it not? At the Court of Chancery?”

Graham’s face went ashen.

Abigail looked between the two men, alarm racing through her. “What kind of appointment?”

“A trifling legal matter, clarifying regarding the girls’ welfare and future security,” Hollansaid, waving a dismissive hand. His many rings caught the sunlight, sending prisms dancing across the path. “Nothing that need concern you, Your Grace.”