“You’re going?”
Her friend nodded. “I shall gather Walter and set out on Peter’s trail to ensure he does nothing foolish.” She stepped out onto the street, whispered something to David that Abigail could not hear and moved away. After a few steps, David glanced over his shoulder, but the expression on his face was as bleak as the day of his arrival.
~ * ~
“If you toy with my friends affections for sport I shall be very cross with you Mr. Hawke. I shall name a terrible villain after you and plot a grisly demise.”
David gulped, very sure Miss George would paint him the worst bounder. “I hardly know how to answer you. I’d not planned any of this.”
For a man who planned everything he was completely out of his depth when it came to his pretty neighbor. He needed to take greater care to hide his interest.
“Then I suggest you start planning how it will end. I hope not badly for Abigail. She has always looked up to you. Ah, here we are.”
“Miss George, might I inquire as to your plan?” David looked down at the woman on his arm. “Rushing after Peter Watson might not be advisable given his mood.”
“I do not believe allowing him to wallow in his current frame of mind would be wise.” She rapped on her front door, smiled at her housekeeper. “Would you know the location of my brother, Mrs. Perkins?”
“He’s at supper, miss.”
“Ah, perfect. If he’s already eaten then he’ll be an amiable companion for a stroll. If any woman wanted to snare my brother for a wife all they need do is see his meals were delivered promptly. Thank you for your time this evening, Mr. Hawke.”
She curtsied to him and then quickly shut the door. David remained where he stood, trying to figure out what Miss George thought she could achieve by chasing after Peter in the middle of the night. Did every woman in Cavendish Place have no care for her reputation?
David raked his fingers through his hair, speculating on the increase of grey appearing at his temples. “Not my problem,” he muttered to himself. There really was nothing more he could do.
He slowly retraced his steps, glancing at the façade of the Watson’s residence to see if Abigail lingered at a window. The curtain didn’t move and with a pang of disappointment he went to his own door and let himself inside.
His townhouse was silent, save for the whimpers emanating from the rear of the house. He hurried to the kitchen and scooped the puppy up against his chest. “Here I am, Princess. No need to fret.”
The animal licked his fingers and wagged its tail so much David feared it would do itself an injury. After soothing the beast, David stepped out into the dark rear yard. He set the puppy down in a small patch of grass and looked up into the night sky.
Even with the puppy for company, he was lonely.
Perhaps he should consider finding a wife.
But the only woman he could imagine spending his nights and days with was Abigail and now he couldn’t e
ven call on her to court her properly. Peter would never agree, given the business between them. The thought of how long it might take to repair their friendship wasn’t comforting. He could be waiting a long time and he didn’t want to wait another day.
He glanced at the rear of Abigail’s house, where he knew her bedchamber to be. It was dark which must mean she had already turned in for the night. Disappointment filled him. He was alone again and he was tired of it.
He sat down on a patch of grass and considered what to do. Should he approach Peter first or try to get Abigail alone again to see if she was interested? She’d clearly stated she wasn’t looking for a husband. Would she accept if he asked her?
The rear garden gate creaked and he looked up. Abigail approached slowly, her head tilted to one side, still wearing the dress that had tortured him during dinner. “I was afraid you had company for a moment.”
He patted the pup who had just taken an interest in the tip of his boot. “Miss Watson, may I introduce Princess? Princess, you have the honor of meeting our remarkable young neighbor.”
Abigail knelt beside him and stretched her fingers out to the pup. When Princess licked at her fingers a happy smile flittered over her face. Abigail had a tender heart and made friends very easily. He would like to see her smile so every day. He was sure the effort to make her happy would be worth any sacrifice.
He yearned to pull her into his arms and promise everything would turn out for the best. “I take it Peter has not returned.”
Her head lowered and her fingers clasped together. “No.”
“Abigail, may I ask you a question?”
Her smile was immediate. “Of course.”
“Why are you here?”