A Dash of Romance by Paullett Golden

Author:Paullett Golden
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2020-07-19T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Percy was not prone to introspection. If someone inquired of his friends at White’s, the answer would be that Mr. Percival Randall had never had an introspective thought in his life. Either his friends did not know him well or the country was casting a spell.

Since returning from Sidbury, there was little Percy had done except introspect. He mused over supper. He mulled over life from bed. He minded possibilities over morning coffee. As he waited for the literary society ladies to arrive at The Tangled Fleece, he pondered further. There was no end to his contemplation. The crux of it all was where he saw his life in the next year, two years, or even five years, as he had put to Abigail. No, on second thought, that was not the crux. The crux was what the devil he would do about his growing attraction to Abigail considering where he saw his life heading.

There was no denying it. He was attracted to her, and he had been for some time. The way the sun shone through her eyes, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when the locks were already tidy, the way her smile warmed him to his toes, the way her voice sent his heart pounding—blarg! Percy growled. He was besotted by the vicar’s daughter.

Oh, it was worse. He was besotted by the family, the villagers, the country, the mill, the deuced dusty hall. How he was to cure himself of this illness, he was uncertain, but he would need to find an apothecary soon: Dear sir, do you have an herb that will restore my senses and return me to London?

“Are you ready to read?” asked the dulcet tones of the recipient of his affection.

He turned, taking in her petite frame, governess’ hair, and plain dress with its shade of dreadful fog grey—had it once been blue but seen too many winters? All he saw was the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. The slope of her neck, the twist of her knot, the freckles across her nose, the blush on her cheeks… Good heavens. He was lost to her.

Gulping his feelings, he said, “Is it my turn already? I thought it was Miss Clint’s. I’ve nothing to share, I’m afraid.” Who could write nonsense prose when Miss Abigail Walsley haunted one’s dreams? He was more apt to pen romantic poetry.

“She won’t be joining us today. I hope all is well.” Abbie tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth, her brow puckered. “This is the third time she’s canceled plans this week. I’ll call on her tomorrow.” Her smile returning, she added, “I’m positive Isobel and Leila will have something to share. If not, I do. I wrote three chapters last night! You’ll be shocked that I’ve added a moral to this adventure, as you suggested.”

A witty remark stalled on his tongue. He had lost his train of thought somewhere between the natural rose of her lips and the two crinkles around her eyes when she smiled.

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