Free It Takes a Scandal by Caroline Linden Page A

dog. “Nothing of the sort.”
    “You seem determined to avoid looking at me,” she said softly. “If I’ve done something to offend—”
    “You haven’t.” He stepped over Milo and continued walking. Abigail realized he had come on foot from Montrose Hill. Excellent; that gave her more time to draw him out.
    “But you are avoiding me.” She kept pace with him, Milo at her heels.
    “No,” he said, staring straight ahead. “I never intended to stay long; your other visitor barely hastened my departure.”
    “Yes, and I’m so anxious to hear all about Mr. Huntley’s illustrious roots,” she muttered. “For once I agree with Milo.”
    Her companion made a noise like a faint snort.
    “I think you agree with him, too,” she said, encouraged. “I gather Mrs. Huntley was the reason you left so quickly.”
    He sighed. “If I didn’t go, she would have, and that would have been uncomfortable for your mother. I had expressed my niceties, so I took my leave.”
    “Why on earth would she have left?” Abigail thought it was better to pretend she hadn’t noticed the antipathy between them. “You aren’t so fearsome as all that, sir.”
    He slanted a look at her. “How would you know?”
    Abigail tilted her head and met his gaze thoughtfully. “You just aren’t. Not in my opinion.”
    He stopped walking. “And your opinion is infallible?”
    “Of course not!” She laughed. “I never said so. But I expect I’m more fearsome than you, as you look like you want to run the other way every time we meet.”
    And again his mouth softened. It was the only change in his face, but it had a remarkable effect. “How do you know what I want?”
    “You wouldn’t tell me your name the first night we met,” she pointed out. “You started to duck back out the door when you saw me in the bookshop. Today you barely glanced my way, even when I spoke directly to you. What conclusion would you draw, if you were in my place?”
    For a long moment he just regarded her in silence. Abigail met his gaze without flinching, ignoring the little jerks on the lead as Milo tried to wander away. “Yes,” he said at last. “You are correct. I do want to run the other way when I see you.”
    “Why?” She hurried to keep up as he walked on, more briskly than before. “What have I done?”
    “Absolutely nothing,” he said, adding under his breath, “and I pray it stays that way.”
    “Then what ought I to do?” They were making good progress down the road. She had run out without a shawl or a bonnet, and had to squint against the sun when she looked up at him.
    “Absolutely nothing,” he repeated. “For your own sake.”
    “But if I’ve been doing nothing and it disgusts you, it makes no sense that I continue doing nothing.”
    He paused. “You don’t disgust me.” He pointed past her with his cane. “There is the path to my home. Pardon me, Miss Weston.”
    She let him pass, but kept dogging his heels, dragging poor Milo in her wake. “If I don’t disgust you, why won’t you speak to me? There was only that one moment, when you told me about the lost grotto, when I felt we were cordial.”
    He heaved a soundless sigh. “I’m speaking to you now, aren’t I?”
    “Without saying anything,” she grumbled. “We are neighbors, sir. Surely we can have an amiable relationship.”
    With unexpected speed and grace he whirled on her. Abigail nearly tripped as she leapt back once, then again until her back hit a tree as he stalked toward her. He loomed over her, so close she could see the lines around his eyes, but not so close he was touching her. “Amiable,” he whispered. “We will never be amiable.”
    “Why n-not?” she stammered. Her heart was beating a tattoo inside her chest.
    He smiled, but there was nothing light about it. It was a black and bitter expression, and the sight made her eyes grow wide. “Because I am a wicked man, Miss Weston. Don’t you listen to the gossip? Madness runs in my family. My