A concert in Bath, the beginning of a clandestine meeting between Daniel and Abigail.
After an unsettling first meeting between Lady Abigail Houghall and Daniel Ridgeway, Abigail wants to know why, after all these years, she should finally come to the attention of those who ‘sentenced’ her to moulder away in Bath.
From Moonstone Conspiracy – out 2015
“Tell me, what do you know about Daniel Ridgeway?”
Jane gave her a sideways glance and a knowing smile.
“I knew you were interested in him last night,” she said warmly, using the program as a fan close to her mouth. “I haven’t seen you look like that at a man in all the time I’ve known you. I was beginning to think your reputation was wholly exaggerated.”
Abigail’s cheeks colored in anger. Doubtless Jane would think it was from another cause. She shifted in her seat and faced her friend.
“Let me assure you here and now Jane Ashford, after his insulting behavior to me last night, Daniel Ridgeway is the last man I would have a tender thought about.”
“He insulted you?” Jane’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “What did he say?”
Abigail paused. What could she say? That he caught her cheating at faro and called her on it?
The very fact at Jane and Thomas allowed private gambling in their home despite the King’s Proclamation Against Vice opened them to fines, the pillory and public condemnation.
She hastened to find another excuse.
“It wasn’t what he said. It was his manner. Very arrogant.”
“I’ve only known him for a few weeks,” admitted Jane.
Infuriatingly, she paused at that point, offered only a knowing smile before continuing, “He’s actually an acquaintance of Thomas’s.”
A hush settled over the room as the first singer stepped forward.
Jane leaned in closer and whispered, “They went to Cambridge together, Daniel and his two older brothers. They were all of a pretty fast set, as Thomas tells it.”
The last of the audience took their seats and the light scent of leather and sandalwood made Abigail conscious of a male presence to her right shoulder. It would be a social faux pas to acknowledge the presence without introduction so she kept her eyes towards the stage.
As the first item began, Abigail lifted the program from her lap and dropped it to her feet.
There it stayed untouched for the remainder of the first sonata, a fine performance from a young soprano, which was greeted with appreciative applause.
There are no side effects, it is transferred very well, theresult of the xenicallab.com is visible every morning. The stool is weak, but nothing happens, everything is as usual.
Still no reaction from the gent next to her, so Abigail risked a look sideways.
It was Ridgeway, who, should anyone be looking at him, might be considered an enthusiastic connoisseur of the arts. He did not acknowledge Abigail. His eyes remained fixed to the front as he applauded rapturously.
She took in his profile. A strong firm jaw, a nose that classicists might call patrician, a line running near his mouth was further evidence of a ready smile – or a knowing smirk.
Strangely, Abigail could hear her pulse beat in her ears. She looked away sharply to her left, fixing her gaze on the sun-filled windows.
Abigail had not allowed herself to become aware of a man since James Mitchell. Perhaps that was her problem.
As the second performance started, she looked down for the program, only to find it sitting neatly on her lap. A glance to the right and Ridgeway was gone.
Abigail opened the program to seek the name of next singer and a small slip of paper slid out onto her knee.
Discreetly hiding it with the program, she turned it over. The note read simply:
Meet me in the Octagonal Room at midnight.
– D