Page 103 of A Perfect Gentleman

“No, don’t worry. I’m fine.” Abby put a firm hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Just rest. She hit you hard.”

Laura winced. “So it seems.” She reached up a tentative hand. “I’m going to have a bump.”

“Why did you come? I mean, how did you know?” Abby sat back on her heels. “Either one of you? I didn’t suspect a thing until Mrs. Ponsonby came after me with that sunshade!”

“After I talked to the vicar, I realized that she was the only person who would care if the news got out.” Graeme explained what he had learned that morning.

“I had no idea why she had tried to hurt you,” Laura added. “But I was concerned about your fall on the stairs, so I asked around. Mary Littleton told me that she had been talking to Lady Fawley, who told her that she—Lady Fawley—had seen Mrs. Ponsonby push you.”

“The idiotic woman.” Graeme scowled. “Why didn’t she speak up?”

“Lady Fawley rarely sees importance in anything that doesn’t involve herself.” Laura grimaced. “I was alarmed, of course, and I dared not wait for a letter to get to you, so I decided to simply come see you. When Fletcher told me you were with her, I came straight here. I told myself it was foolish, that she would not try anything with the other ladies around, but I had such an uneasy feeling about it. . . .”

“I’m very glad you did,” Abby told her emphatically. “She was about to overcome me when you arrived. She was insanely strong.”

“I think perhaps she is. Insane, I mean.” Graeme sighed. “I can’t believe we never realized. . . . Mrs. Ponsonby always seemed so meek.”

“Apparently not when it came to her husband. She kept raving that I had ruined him and that she wouldn’t let me destroy his reputation.”

“Didn’t it occur to her that she would create an even larger scandal by murdering you?” Laura asked.

Abby shrugged. “I suspect she thought that Graeme and his family would cover it up. She believed he would be relieved at getting his freedom once I was gone.” Abby stopped, her cheeks filling with color. In her relief and gratitude to Laura, she had momentarily forgotten that Laura was the woman for whom Graeme would want his freedom.

“Abby . . .” Graeme turned to her, frowning.

Abby jumped to her feet. “Look. I think Mrs. Ponsonby is stirring.”

Laura and Graeme followed her. Mrs. Ponsonby was indeed conscious, but all the fight had gone out of her. She turned on her side and began to weep, her body shaking with sobs.

Graeme shifted, his expression uneasy. “I’ve never struck a woman before. It wasn’t very gentlemanly.”

“Well, I, for one, am very glad you didn’t play the gentleman this time.”

“As am I.” He curled an arm around Abby, pulling her against his side. “I have no regrets.” He smiled down into her eyes. “None at all.”

It took some time to settle matters. The police were called, and Graeme turned the now-silent Philomena Ponsonby over to them. She seemed surprised to find that Montclair would not conceal what his grandmother’s companion had done. No doubt it would be a terrible scandal and the whole wretched story of the embezzlement would come out. But Graeme had no intention of allowing the woman who attacked Abigail to go unpunished.

By the time he had finished explaining the events to the police, including Mrs. Ponsonby’s likely guilt regarding an unsolved murder that had occurred in London, and returned to the private assembly room of the inn, Laura and Abby had managed to awaken the two older women. As soon as Graeme walked in the door, he was bombarded by questions.

Raising his hands as if to stop the flow of words, he said, “No, no, I beg you. I promise to answer all your questions when we reach Lydcombe, but right now, I only want to get Abby safely home. She’s been through a terrible ordeal, and she must rest. I’ve ordered the carriage brought round for you. I rode here, so I shall follow you on horseback.”

“I’m fine, really,” Abby said.

“No use protesting, my love. You might as well resign yourself to being coddled and cosseted the next few days.”

“Very well.” Abby smiled. “I shall try to take it with good grace.”

Laura elected to go back to London by train. Despite Mirabelle’s and Abby’s assurances that she must spend the night at the Hall with them, she insisted on leaving.

“It’s not that long a distance, and fortunately trains run frequently to London. I shall have no trouble catching one.”

When Graeme eventually managed to get his family out of the inn and into a carriage, Laura insisted, too, that there was no need to escort her to the train station. “Really, Graeme, I am quite capable of finding the station myself. You should be with your wife.”

“I will be, don’t worry. And I am aware of how capable you are. However, you must allow me to offer at least this small measure of assistance. I have done little enough today to protect anyone.”

“What nonsense.” Laura smiled. She had cleaned the cut on her head and wound her hair back up into its usual order. Popping her plain bonnet on her head, she looked once again her neat, practical self.

He could not imagine his own Abby even possessing so plain a hat or dress, let alone wearing it. How was it, Graeme wondered, that he had given his heart to two such different women?