Lord Darlington's Darling by Gayle Buck Read Free Book Online Page B

time she had ever been shopping without Mrs. Crocker’s guidance. For an instant she felt a flutter of panic, but then her common sense reasserted itself. She was perfectly capable of ar ticulating a simple request. “I should like to look at the ribbons, please.”
    The attendant bowed and ushered Abby, trailed by the silent maid, over to an extensive selection of the ribbons.
    As Abby was with difficulty trying to make a deci sion on just the right shade of pink ribbons for her bonnet, a quick gurgling laugh followed by an ani mated voice caught her ear. She looked around to see a young girl with a very well-dressed, handsome older lady.
    The girl appeared to be about seventeen and was already ravishingly pretty, possessed of lovely hazel eyes set in a heart-shaped face and a flashing smile. Her modest bonnet hid all but the wisps of gold curls which framed her face, yet Abby was quite certain the girl was one of those few fortunate enough to have been born with gorgeous hair.
    “Oh, Mama! Would it not make up a perfectly di vine domino?” asked the young lady with a yearning note in her voice as she fingered a length of sumptuous brocaded silk.
    “Now, Bethany, you know perfectly well that I can not sanction such an expensive, unnecessary purchase,” said the older lady in a reasonable tone. “At least, not without Sylvan’s express permission. We must be guided by him.”
    “Oh, Sylvan!” The young lady made a grimace as she reluctantly dropped the swath of silken fabric. “If it were left to my brother, I should be made to go around in rags.”
    “Bethany, that is unfair,” said the older lady reprovingly. “Sylvan has always made certain we are all well dressed.”
    The younger lady had the grace to appear chastened. The faintest color tinged her cheeks. “I am sorry, Mama. It is just that I wish we did not need to apply to Sylvan for everything. It quite takes the fun out of shopping when we must first decide if Sylvan would approve!”
    Abby thought she had eavesdropped enough and started to move away, a bunch of ribbon in her hand. A flurry of skirts rustled behind her, but she paid no heed. She was therefore astonished when a small gloved hand shot past her and snagged a bunch of ribbons from in front of her.
    “Only look, Mama! The perfect shade for my para sol,” exclaimed the young lady.
    Abby turned in surprise. She stepped back, giving room to the young lady who had crowded her. Auto matically an apology rose to her lips, as though she had been at fault. “I beg your pardon!”
    The young lady looked up quickly. A flush mounted into her face. “Forgive me, ma’am! I did not perfectly notice you.”
    “I am not very noticeable,” said Abby swiftly, trying her best to mitigate the girl’s obvious embarrassment.
    “Pray forgive my daughter’s impetuosity, ma’am,” said the older lady, coming up and glancing reprov ingly at her daughter. “She sometimes acts before she thinks.”
    “It’s quite all right,” said Abby, beginning to feel embarrassed in her turn. She held out her gloved hand. “I am Miss Abby Fairchilde.”
    “How do you do? I am Lady Darlington, and this is my daughter Lady Bethany Hart,” said Lady Darlington, obvi ously relieved that the awkward moment was to be passed over in a civilized fashion.
    “Darlington?” Abby turned to the young girl, who stood by, biting her rosy under lip. “Then, you are Lord Darlington’s sister. I understand you are coming out this Season.”
    “Why, yes,” said Lady Bethany in surprise. She glanced at her mother, then back again to ask curiously, “Have you met my brother, ma’am?”
    “We met last Season and Lord Darlington was kind enough to renew our acquaintance when he saw me at Almack’s.” Abby nearly stammered with the warmth of pure pleasure it gave her to offer that explanation. She still couldn’t believe that Lord Darlington had recalled her name, let alone asked her to dance.
    A speculative gleam entered