She glanced to where her brother paced, hands restlessly shuffling cards, making them dance in the air as he performed tricks. Peter, too, had been surreptitiously peeking out onto Cavendish Place all day, but not even he had mentioned what time David was expected to call. She couldn’t believe David had changed his mind about delivering the letter. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it. It was one of the things Abigail admired about him.
Once her brother had the notice, and was suitably desperate about the situation, Abigail would broach the subject of a union with Miss Merton as a solution to eviction and debtor’s prison. Surely Peter would see the logic of the match and fall in with her plans for him to marry. There really was no other choice.
Peter’s pocket watch clicked as he snapped it closed. “Well, it’s time we stepped out. Are you ready, little sister?”
“I have been ready for an hour, as you well know. How sad I’m always ready ahead of time, and you must rush about.”
Peter grinned. “Now, now. No need to ring a peal over my head. I did not see the moth hole in my waistcoat and I did change when you demanded it. I’m ready and fit to be seen, am I not?”
She glanced over him with a critical eye. At her urging, especially in light of the damaged waistcoat, he’d returned upstairs to dress a little more formally than he would normally. It wouldn’t do to be lax about his attire while courting an heiress. Abigail would have to sneak into his bedchamber and inspect his other clothes for similar damage.
Tonight, his cravat was perfectly tied for a change, his hair was neatly styled, and his pocket watch chain gleamed in the candlelight. Given the effort he had made with his outward appearance, she hoped Melanie Merton would finally notice what a fine man he was to look at. Only time would tell.
Although the evening was fair, she picked up her best shawl, placed it around her shoulders, and then linked her arm through Peter’s. “I’ve been looking forward to dining with everyone tonight. Melanie is so lovely, but I rarely see her unless it’s at a dinner somewhere.”
Peter’s brow rose as he opened the door to lead her out onto Cavendish Place. “Last week you complained that Miss Merton kept standing in your way when you were talking. Why the devil are you keen to spend time in her company?”
Abigail shook her head, glancing quickly at the front of David’s house. Every window was as dark as if he had not come to Brighton after all. Where was he? “I was mistaken in thinking it deliberate. She’s so elegant and tall, and I so short, I suspect she didn’t see me.”
Peter led her down the street, away from David’s house. “Strangely charitable. You have forgotten I saw it all. Damned rude of her to interrupt your conversation with Radley. If she does it again, I will say something cutting about it this time.”
Abigail dragged him to a halt. “Don’t you dare say one unkind word to Melanie. Not now.”
“Why not now?” Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Abigail, I won’t have you slighted like that again. I don’t care if I offend the silly chit or her family. She has no right to lord her fat dowry over you as if you were beneath her notice. It isn’t money that makes someone a better person. It is how they treat others.”
Abigail set her free hand to her trembling stomach and prayed Melanie might be in a friendlier mood tonight than she usually was. She simply had to see Peter’s better qualities. She was sure the right woman could overcome his interest in gambling.
Her brother rapped on the Radley’s door and they were whisked inside the elegant townhouse.
Mr. Linus Radley greeted them warmly. “Watson. Miss Watson. So happy you could come.”
“Thank you, Radley.” Peter shook hands with him and then headed for where the gentlemen had clustered on the far side of the drawing room.
Mr. Radley smiled at Abigail. “You look as lovely as ever, Miss Watson.”
A happy warmth invaded her chest at the compliment. She had dithered over her gown, settling on a cream silk edged with heavy burgundy embroidery. It had been a favorite since her time in London. “Thank you, sir.”
She glanced into the room, noting who had come. All the ladies of their group were here and of the men, David would be the last to arrive.
Mr. Radley cleared his throat. “Do you have a moment, Miss Watson? There is a pressing matter I wish to discuss with you.”
Abigail stilled at the memory of the last time someone had spoken those exact same phrases to her. Surely Mr. Radley was not so ridiculous as to propose marriage to her, too. She gathered her courage and pasted a smile on her face. “Of course. What can I help you with?”
He leaned closer. “I need to obtain your support in regard to my sister.”
Relief trickled through her and she relaxed. “What has Julia done now?”
Mr. Radley’s heavy sigh raised the hair on her neck. “She intends to challenge the gentlemen to a swimming race. I’ve done all I can to dissuade her, but she is determined to ignore the impropriety of mixed bathing to prove she’s a strong swimmer. You have as much influence on her as anyone. Can you try to convince her it’s a very bad idea?”
Abigail blushed as she remembered the unclad state the gentlemen swam in. Accidentally catching half of them stark naked was a memory she strove to push from her mind. Thankfully, Mr. Radley had not been there that day or she really would be blushing now. “You give me too much credit, sir. Julia has always gone her own way. But I will try.”
“That is all I can hope for.” He stood silently at her side, gazing across the room to where the ladies sat, an expression of disappointment on his face.
Uncomfortable with remaining apart from the group for too long and wary of giving the wrong impression about their discussion, she cleared her throat to recapture his attention. “I should like to join the ladies now if there is nothing else you wish to speak of, Mr. Radley.”
He startled as if he had forgotten she was standing at his side. “Yes, I’m sorry to have detained you. Do try to convince her if you have the opportunity. I fear what will happen to her reputation—and the family’s—if word spreads of her intentions.”
“Of course.” Abigail made her way into the parlor where Imogen, Julia Radley, Teresa and Melanie Merton sat. “Good evening, ladies.”