Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)

Abigail smiled, despite herself. These were one of many moments where she didn’t mind having older sisters quite so much.

“Move along, ladies.” Eliza said, brushing her fingers out several times as though sweeping the women away.

One gave a tiny huff, but they all started moving, likely off to find new guests to torture. Not one of them even attempted to stand against the marchioness.

She was glad for Eliza’s help, but the entire interaction reminded her how much more comfortable she’d be if she’d just stayed home. “Remind me why we’re here again?” Abigail closed her eyes. She couldn’t even turn away because Blasphemy still stood behind her. She was trapped in this very spot.

“You know very well this invitation was too important to turn down,” Isabella answered. “When the king invites you to a ball, you don’t say no. And besides, we need his help to catch the men responsible for stealing from us.”

Abigail shook her head. “That’s all well and good but why do I have to be here?”

Eliza looked at Abigail even as she tapped her sister’s shoulder with her fan. “You’re a Carrington. You’ll not run and hide. Now stand tall and stare them down.”

Abigail sniffed. “Easy for you to say. You’re the wife of a marquess.” Couldn’t Eliza give her a bit of sympathy rather than a lecture on remaining strong? All her good will toward Eliza evaporated. Why did her sisters always treat her like she was an errant child? None of them had had to face this sort of ridicule and none of them had been matched with such a…derelict.

In fact, none of them had been matched at all. They’d chosen their husbands after they’d fallen in love.

Her chin dropped as she shook her head. It wasn’t fair.

Her father had always told her how much their mother, his wife, had meant to him. How she’d allowed him the freedom to be himself. He’d spent a great deal of time off with his shipping company and her mother had always kept their home for him while he was gone.

Her sisters had all been allowed to follow in his footsteps. If all of them could, why not herself? He’d told her, more than anyone, about the merits of love.

Eliza’s fan snapped against her hand again and for a moment, Abigail wondered who her sister was irritated with now.

“Stop pouting. That won’t work on me the way it always did with Mother and Father.”

“I’m not pouting,” she fired back.

Eliza shook her head. “Don’t think looking morose will get you your way. We are equals without our father here. He can’t play favorites.”

“Equals? Pish!” She swept her hand. “You treat me like a petulant child not an equal. I’m nineteen now, and a grown woman.”

“Then start acting like one and not like Daddy’s spoiled favorite.” Eliza fired back, her voice a low hiss.

She wrinkled her nose at her sister. “You’ve always been jealous of my relationship with our father. It’s unbecoming, Eliza.”

“Abigail.” Eliza’s voice dropped low, a hard edge making the sound sharp. “This is not jealousy. Stop trying to hold yourself apart. That’s him at work. You’re supposed to be using this opportunity to get to know Blackwater. You’ve not even looked at the man all evening.”

Her chin snapped up at that. Those other women may not want to challenge Eliza, but she had every intention of telling her sister what to do with her advice. “I don’t need to spend time with him to know what my answer will be to the sham proposal I received yesterday morning.”

Isabella tsked, shaking her head. “It wasn’t a sham. You’re exaggerating. It was an actual proposal meant to provide for your future in several ways.”

She turned to her sister, frowning as her hands planted on her hips. “My future? It was meant to fund his not mine.”

Firm fingers wrapped about her elbow. “Let’s dance, shall we?”

Irritation and something warmer slid down her spine. Him. Blasphemy.

She tried to pull her arm away, but his grip was tighter than she thought. Her lips pressed into a firm line. “Let me go.”

His brows rose. “Your voice is rising and you’re drawing attention.”

Her gaze swiveled to find he was correct. Her outburst had drawn all sorts of attention and a flush rose in her cheeks. Why did she forget herself like this? She dropped her hands as she took a steadying breath.

She allowed her sister’s directives to fluster her. Again.

“Let’s dance,” he murmured.