Chapter 9: Prince Charming

Abigail almost couldn't speak, completely shocked that he would make an assumption like that about her. He didn't even know her. She had assumed he was a gardener based on the fact that he was working in a garden!

How could he make so many assumptions about her just on who her father was?

And why did his voice hold so much disdain, Abigail wondered. If he worked for her father, he certainly didn't seem to have the same blind loyalty all the other servants did. Maybe it was because he worked out in the garden.

"Excuse me?" Abigail asked, her voice coming out with just a little more venom than she intended. "A spoiled little rich girl? How dare you assume I've never worked a day in my life."

"I heard the servant call you Woodtriche yesterday, right? Like, Adam's daughter." Mark said, folding his arms. "I mean, what else could you be, on this land?"

"Alright," Abigail allowed. "That part is true. But how do you get to say anything else about my life?"

"Well," Mark gave her a once over, like he was appraising her. "That's some really expensive clothing you have on, and your lawns and forests are some of the most manicured that even exists."

Abigail cursed the decision to change into clothing her father would more approve of. She had just wanted to prove to him that she was very grateful for everything he had given her, and everything he had done to make her feel welcome here.

And now it was proof against her that she was nothing more than a spoiled little rich girl.

"That still gives you no grounds to make a judgement about my entire life," Abigail said, standing her ground. "You know, I thought because you're a gardener, you'd be a bit more civilized, but you're just as pompous as anyone who would own lands like this."

Mark huffed, and opened his mouth to retort, but before he got a chance, he was interrupted.

"Excuse me," a man cleared his throat, just a step away from them.

Both Abigail and Mark turned as one to the man.

"What?!" They both demanded.

The man looked both slightly affronted and amused.

Mark cleared his throat first and schooled himself back into an appropriate response.

"Excuse me," Mark said, "I should be getting back to work."

Without waiting for a word, Mark then turned and left.

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Abigail watched him go, both elated at her victory – she had gotten the last word in, after all – and saddened that their interaction had gone like that. And overarching both, confusion, as to why she cared so much, why she even cared at all.

The man that had interrupted them cleared his throat again.

"I feel like I've walked into the middle of something," the man said, smiling at her.

"It's nothing," Abigail shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry about that, just a disagreement with the gardener, is all."

"Ah," the man said, stepping slightly closer to her. "I'm Lyall Brogen, by the way, pleasure to meet you."

He stepped closer to her, offering his hand out. Abigail took it, and for the first time, really took in the man she saw.

He was dressed impeccably in an off-white three-piece suit, with a dark blue shirt underneath. There wasn't a spec of dirt on him, and he didn't look a bit like he had just wandered through some heavy brush.

The suit was tailored perfectly to his form, showing off every well toned muscle. He had a watch on his arm, though it was tasteful, it still displayed opulence.

He was a stark contrast to Mark, with the dirty jeans and the smudge of dirt on his face that had looked almost adorable, but Abigail shook her head, trying to clear the man from her memory.

"Abigail," she introduced herself. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Well," Lyall said giving her a once over. "I wasn't, but now I think I might be in the business."

Abigail smiled in spite of herself. It was a sudden change to be charmed, after the screaming match with Mark just now.

"Could I help you with something?" Abigail asked after a moment of Lyall just staring at her sweetly.

"A few somethings, I'd be willing to bet," Lyall said again, smiling. "But actually, I came out here thinking your father would be here. I know he likes to wander his grounds."

"Oh," Abigail said, "No, he isn't, but I could take you inside, if you'd like."

"I would greatly appreciate it," Lyall told her. "I don't often walk this way, but I heard voices and thought your father took a detour from his morning walk today. However," Lyall paused, and walked till beside her. He offered her his arm. "You must allow me to escort you, to the house."

Abigail laughed lightly, "It's hardly a walk, but I'd be happy to accept."

She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and allowed him to lead her through the trees, steering him as they went.

Abigail humored the man as he spoke, walking him back to the house, she tried not to stand too close to him. Lyall was exactly the kind of man her mother had warned her about getting caught with.

These were the rich and powerful. And while Abigail was willing to set her mother's prejudices aside for her father and sister, Abigail knew that their connections had to be treated with much more caution.

And Lyall was exactly that kind of person.

He spoke way too smooth and charming, like it was something he was used to. Like it was as common for him as breathing air. And Abigail knew, that while he was charming and funny, he wasn't sincere.

She'd had more sincerity and true civility from Mark in their screaming match just a few minutes ago than with Lyall now.

Abigail wasn't as taken in by this world as her mother feared she would be. She just had very little boundaries for her father and sister.

Lyall said something, obviously meant to be funny, obviously intended to make her laugh. But Abigail felt that she had laughed quite enough for him and didn't want to give him the wrong impression.

"So," Abigail asked quickly, before any long awkward pause could settle. "How long have you been working for my father?"

Lyall seemed to bounce back quickly enough, another little red flag.

"Hmmm," Lyall said, thinking about it. "Well, since I graduated, technically. But I'd been working for him before that, too. Unofficially, of course."

So her father took in proteges straight out of high school. That was kind of him. Many places required a bachelor's degree first, and that was sometimes hard for people looking for opportunities.

"Lyall!" Abigail turned to the steps as she heard her sister call out.

Abigail's jaw dropped seeing her sister. Was this really the same Olivia that Abigail had just seen over breakfast? Dressed in channel sweats? Out to run errands?

Olivia wore a dress with a neckline that fell almost to her navel. Her breasts could not be more exposed unless she were actually naked. And a long, studded diamond and emerald necklace drew specific attention to the swell of her breasts.

There was a long slit in the middle of her dress that Abigail was sure had to have been an accident; there was just no way a designer had actually drawn a dress with a slit going to just right under her crotch.

If Olivia were standing on the top step, Abigail had no doubt they would have seen everything of her sister.

Abigail was astounded at how much material was on that dress, and how it covered almost nothing.

"Come inside, my goodness," Olivia said, coming up to them quickly. She linked her arm through Lyall's other side, pulling slightly so he disengaged with Abigail. She pressed her body right against his, and Abigail had no doubt Lyall could feel every shape of her sister.

"You met my half-breed sister," Olivia said, almost whispering into Lyall's ear. "But I'm sure you must be looking for more sophisticated company. Though, it's hardly her fault she'd a bastard, my father did make the choices after all. Though I do think he should have at least given her mother some money to see that she got a decent education."

Abigail stared amusedly at her sister. Clearly, for some insane reason, Olivia thought Abigail was a threat in her battle to win Lyall's affections.

Abigail bit down on her lip to hide a smile. Poor girl.

Olivia kept up the litany of remarks and throwing herself at Lyall's feet until they were all seated in the living room.

Abigail thought of simply slipping out, but she didn't want to appear rude to the very first guest her father had when she was over. And Lyall seemed intent on drawing Abigail into their conversations where he could, making it impossible for her to escape.