Miss Watson's First Scandal (Miss Mayhem 1)

n agitation. She had never seen him this way before and he frightened her. He tore his hands through his hair, almost as if he meant to rip it from his head, but he didn’t stop moving.

Determined to end the madness, Abigail stepped into his path. “Peter, stop a moment and tell me what’s wrong.” She grabbed for him, but he eluded her. He backed away quickly, and then spun for the door. Unfortunately, Imogen stood between him and the door and, in his haste, Peter didn’t see her. He crashed into Imogen and she was knocked to the hard floor, a startled oomph leaving her lips.

Abigail hurried across the room as Peter lifted Imogen to her feet, apologies tumbling from his lips so rapidly Imogen had no chance to respond. All of a sudden, Imogen captured his face between her hands and held him still. “Accidents happen, Mr. Watson. I’m uninjured.”

Abigail’s brother closed his eyes briefly as Imogen moved her fingers over his red cheeks, and then he wrenched himself away, rushing for the door and leaving without even taking his hat or gloves.

“Peter, wait,” Abigail called after him, but he never replied. She rushed to the front steps and peered down Cavendish Place. The street was deserted at this hour and after a time she had no choice but to shut the front door. He would come back soon. He and David must have quarreled, although she hadn’t heard a word of their conversation from the parlor.

He would calm down soon enough. He simply needed time to take it all in. She followed Imogen into the parlor, and then realized her friend was limping. “Imogen, you are hurt.”

“So it would seem. I landed somewhat awkwardly. I’ll be all right in a little while.”

Imogen sat on the couch, but it was clear from the way she winced that her injury resided on her bottom. “Where will he go, do you think?”

Abigail rubbed her temple hard. “I hate to speculate, but I hope he does not go to another hell. That won’t solve the problem.”

“No. Gambling now will not solve anything, but could get you deeper into trouble. I wish he would come back soon. I do not like to think of you here alone if he returns in a temper.”

“Peter is not a violent person. I am sure today is an aberration.” Abigail nibbled at her fingertip, uncertain of what to do next. It wasn’t like Peter to rush off into the night without a word to where he was going. Should she follow him?

Imogen pursed her lips. “Troubled times calls for family and friends to stick together not bottle everything up inside. Did he confide in anyone?”

“Not that I ever learned. He never really told me of his financial issues, remember.”

They both jumped as three knocks rattled the front door.

“Simpson will see who it is.” Abigail peered at Imogen as she gingerly repositioned herself on the couch. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you?”

Imogen shook her head. “It’s mostly my pride that is bruised.”

Simpson’s slow steps echoed in the hall and then male voices sounded. At last, Simpson came to the parlor doorway. “Mr. Hawke wishes to inquire if you are in need, Miss Watson. He is quite concerned.”

Abigail’s heart raced. If she asked David to find Peter and bring him home again, would he be willing? “Please ask him to come in, Mr. Simpson, so I may reassure him in person.”

“I did ask him to step inside, but he has refused.” Simpson glanced over his shoulder before he spoke. “I believe the master did banish Mr. Hawke from entering the house ever again before he stormed out.”

Abigail jumped to her feet. Why would Peter be so cruel to their friend? It wasn’t David’s fault Peter was in debt. She rushed for the front door. David waited on the pavement, pacing to and fro.

When he saw her, his shoulders sagged. “I shouldn’t be here, but I had to check. Is everything all right within?”

“Yes, everything is fine.” She glanced up and down the street and saw more than one head at the curtains, outlined by the candlelight behind them. “Please come in.”

“I am afraid I may not. I wanted to see for myself that you remain unharmed.” David stepped closer to the door. “I heard glass break.”

His voice dipped to a rough murmur and Abigail’s stomach tumbled all over itself. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but with the residents of the street watching them, she didn’t dare. “It was nothing. Peter was upset tonight. I’m quick on my feet.”

A soft smile tugged at David’s mouth. “I do recall that. Forgive me for intruding. I saw him rush off and couldn’t help myself.”

He skimmed his fingertips along her cheek in a fleeting caress.

“Mr. Hawke,” Imogen called, limping toward the door and breaking the spell between them. “May I have a word in private?”

Her hard glance caused a blush to heat Abigail’s cheek. She should not allow David to touch her so tenderly where anyone passing by could see. Yet she couldn’t seem to find her good sense around him.

David nodded as Imogen joined them at the door. “Of course.”

Imogen kissed her cheek. “Try not to worry. I will see you soon.”