‘Being centre of attention doesn’t really appeal.’
Leo’s smile faded and Abby figured that given what had happened the afternoon of his wedding it was hardly surprising. ‘At this one you won’t be centre of attention. Or, at least, you shouldn’t be.’
‘True.’
Silence fell and it wasn’t comfortable at all, so, taking a deep breath, she summoned up her courage and looked him straight in the eye because she had to say this. Now. Before either someone came or she chickened out. ‘You were right, last night, Leo.’
He went still. Tilted his head and looked at her, his eyes guarded. ‘In what way?’
‘I have been a hypocrite. Sort of. I haven’t told you what I want, although, in my defence, last night I didn’t really know.’
A tiny muscle hammered in his jaw. ‘But now you do?’
‘Very much so.’
‘And?’
She leaned in close. Breathed him in and might have swayed towards him slightly before catching the sound of distant voices and easing back. ‘Carriages are at midnight,’ she said, wishing for a moment that she and Leo were anywhere but here. ‘Meet me at the folly at one and I’ll tell you everything then.’
His dark eyes glittered. ‘I’ll be there.’
* * *
How the hell he was supposed to concentrate on the party after that Leo had no idea. He was dimly aware of the guests arriving, of various family members and friends shaking him by the hand or clapping him on the back. He was vaguely aware of the buzz of chatter, the hum of stealthy excitement as everyone gathered in the marquee.
But all he could really think about was that there were six hours between now and the time he’d be meeting Abby. Thr
ee hundred and sixty minutes. Twenty-one thousand six hundred seconds, and every one of them was going to take a decade to tick by. He just knew it.
They didn’t, of course. In fact, once Jake arrived with his parents time flew. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the looks on their faces when they walked into the marquee. The utter astonishment, the shock, and then a minute or two later the beaming delight. He didn’t think he’d forget the warm glow it gave him inside in a hurry either.
Champagne flowed, canapés were consumed, and for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long Leo didn’t want to stand at the edge and merely observe the proceedings with one eye on the clock. He wasn’t searching for excuses to leave conversations. Instead he was actually seeking conversation out. Laughing and joking with Jake. Mingling and being a host, and a congenial one at that, because while he’d told Abby that he was looking forward to the party, he hadn’t really expected to enjoy himself. But he was. A lot.
So when it came to sitting down for dinner, Leo was still chuckling about a story a barrister friend of his father’s had just told him regarding the extraordinary defence an alleged embezzler had mounted, and didn’t notice his mother looking at him curiously.
‘This is a lovely party, darling,’ she said, once they’d sat down and he’d poured her some wine. ‘Thank you.’
‘Not really sure it’s me you should be thanking, Mum.’
‘Why not? It was your idea, wasn’t it?’
Leo shifted on his chair, remembering how the party had come about and feeling slightly uncomfortable. ‘But not my execution.’
He turned to fill up the glass of his cousin, who was sitting on his other side, and momentarily went still, warm, and oddly dry-mouthed when he caught sight of Abby standing at the entrance to the marquee, clipboard, as ever, in hand.
‘She’s quite a girl,’ said his mother.
‘She certainly is,’ he muttered, dragging his gaze away and concentrating on putting the bottle down since his hand seemed to be shaking a little.
‘It’s good to see you smiling,’ she said and he wondered why that would come on the back of a comment about Abby. Although now he thought about it, his mother hadn’t actually mentioned Abby by name, had she? Which meant that, damn, he’d given her an opportunity to read far too much into something that was nothing.
Nevertheless he’d better stop looking out for her if he didn’t want his mother jumping to the wholly wrong conclusion. There’d be plenty of time to look later in any case. With any luck.
‘Am I?’ he said as coolly as he could.
‘You are. Properly. For the first time in years.’
And was it really any surprise? Of course he was smiling. Tonight Abby was going to be his. He was sure of it. Why else would she have given him a look that could have melted ice when she’d told him to meet her at the folly?