Free The Spinster and the Duke by Jillian Eaton Page B

worked out differently Ashburn and your aunt may have met under similar circumstances. It’s rather like we are turning back time, if you think about it.”
    Dianna pursed her lips, considering. “I suppose it is,” she allowed. “If Ashburn was an earl or a baron they might have met at a ball just like this one and fallen madly in love. Why, it is almost as if we are not interfering at all.”
    “I don’t know if I would go that far.”
    “I will if it ends badly,” Dianna muttered under her breath. Not for the first time she wondered if she was doing the right thing. What if she was mistaken about Ashburn? What if he truly was a cad? What if he did not come? What if he did come but Aunt Abigail gave him the direct cut? There were so many variables it made her head pound just to think of it, and she pressed her fingers to her temple.
    She hoped she was making the right decision. If anyone deserved love, it was Abigail. The woman was as selfless as they came; always thinking of others before herself. The number of sacrifices she’d made for Dianna alone was staggering. How many nights had Abigail stayed by her side while her parents went flitting from one ball to another without a care for the young daughter they had left behind? Had many times had Abigail held her while she cried herself to sleep, unable to understand why her parents wanted nothing to do with her? Too many to count, that was for certain. If not for the loving attention of her aunt, Dianna knew she would have been raised by nanny after nanny, never knowing genuine love or kindness.
    “This will work,” she whispered fervently, although whether she was convincing Charlotte or herself she wasn’t certain. “It has to.”
     
     
       

 
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
     
    The ball came faster than Abigail would have ever thought possible. It seemed one moment the event was eight days away, and the next only a few hours.
    As she changed into her attire for the evening with the assistance of Tabitha, Charlotte’s own personal maid, Abigail was filled with both excitement and dread. Excitement at the thought of seeing Reginald again… and dread whenever she tried to imagine what she would say.
    Twisting her hands fretfully together she went to the window and peered out across the far lawn where a small army of servants were placing the finishing touches on a dozen elaborately set tables.
    Given that the mansion was not yet suitable to host a full fledged ball, Charlotte had come up with the brilliant idea of moving the entire affair outside. Using poles and white linen tents she had turned her side lawn into a whimsical garden wonderland. As the sun sank low on the horizon, the surrounding trees and shrubbery glowed with paper lanterns and a lively waltz played on the breeze, delivered by a quartet of musicians set up on a makeshift stage.
    “Isn’t it beautiful?” Tabitha asked from behind her.
    Turning to face the maid, Abigail managed a smile despite the butterflies dancing frantically in her belly. “It is. Charlotte did a wonderful job. And you did as well,” she added, turning towards the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom to study her reflection.
    Her attire for the evening was a midnight blue gown boasting fitted sleeves, an empire waist, and black satin trim. It fit her body perfectly courtesy of a seamstress from the village, and she could not remember a time when she had ever worn a gown quite so glamorous.
    Using what she could only assume were magical pins and a deft hand, Tabitha had transformed her limp, lifeless hair into a work of art. Swept back from her face and twisted into an elaborate coiffure, the sleek style gave Abigail the appearance of sophistication without appearing stuffy. She had even forgone her customary cap for the evening and her hair gleamed like gold in the flickering candlelight, the heightened color courtesy of the beeswax Tabitha had rubbed in.
    Sapphire earrings – borrowed from