Page 12 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
Hugh shook his head with a laugh and sighed. “Daenae fret, wee lass,” he said with a laugh. “Ye willnae have to share the manor with another woman soon.”
Abigail, however, paid no heed to this - her eyes were wide with excitement. “You must tell me everything,” she said, and a dreamy smile crossed her face. “Oh, was it romantic? Did you stroll through a moonlit garden with her and drop down on one knee? Did you take her to dinner? Is she beautiful?”
Hugh opened his mouth to reply, but she barreled ahead heedlessly, her eyes gleaming with delight. “Oh, did she turn every shade of rose when you professed your undying devotion? Was it love at first sight? How did you know that she was the one?”
Hugh sighed deeply and shook his head. “Abby,” he managed to interrupt at last. “I said...”
“What is her name?” Abigail asked quickly, her hands fluttering about eagerly. “I cannot wait to meet her!”
It was quite typical of Abigail to only listen to the parts she wanted to hear and he leaned forward. “I doubt you will meet her,” he said at last, and she sat back, her hand pressed to her chest.
Abigail frowned at this. “B... but I don’t understand,” she sputtered. “Surely you cannot truly mean that you have returned unsuccessful after a proposal? What lady would refuse your suit? You are... you are a duke, and you are handsome, and you are kind and funny and...”
Hugh laughed gruffly. All his life, he had attempted to protect Abigail against the ire of thetonand the judgment of the city - and now it would seem that he had been far too good at it. He was just as good, it seemed, at hiding his anger from her.
“Ye give the lasses too much credit,” he laughed. “But we shallnae dwell on it.”
Abigail, however, did not seem to want to give up on the conversation at all. Her lips turned down in a tragic pout and the disappointment on her face was so profound that he felt a fleet of stabbing remorse for his foolishness in telling her to begin with. With a sigh, he reached out to pat her cheek in brotherly fondness.
“Daenae look so torn up, wee one,” he said gently. “There are far worse fates in this world than a surly old one like meself remaining a solitary, embittered grouch.” He managed to infuse some levity into his voice in an attempt to temper her unhappiness. To his surprise, Abigail’s mouth firmed into a pout so reminiscent of their late mother that Hugh felt a lurch of sentimental familiarity.
“Well, it is downright absurd if you ask me,” she huffed, tossing her head in defiant solidarity. “What could possibly possess a woman to turn up her nose at a match with you? It makes no sense.”
Despite himself, Hugh felt the faintest stirrings of amusement at her indignant loyalty. Casting a deliberately unaffected shrug in her direction, he stood and made his way to the door of the drawing-room. “Ye have much to learn about the ways of women in the city and their baffling contrariness, wee one,” he said. “This particular lass may be far too quarrelsome and strong-willed for the likes of me to tame after all,” he mused. “And I willnae bow to her whims.”
“Bow to her whims?” Abigail frowned at this, then narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Wait just a minute. Did this woman... did she tell you in no uncertain terms that she refused your offer, Hugh? Or did she say something else?”
Hugh turned a deep shade of crimson. “She... said something,” he admitted at last and Abigail made a grab for his arm, pulling him back to the sofa in the middle of the room.
“Tell me what she said,” she demanded now, and Hugh laughed softly. Only his sister could get away with speaking to him in this manner.
“She said,” he admitted at last, “that she wouldnae accept me proposal if I asked in a manner that she found ill-befitting,” he admitted. “She believes I slighted her by treating her like an object to be bent to me will rather than a woman deserving of deference.”
Abigail looked at him curiously at this. “Well, how did you ask her?”
If possible at all, Hugh turned an even deeper shade of red. “I...” he mumbled, “I may have asked her if she was going to marry me and get done with it or nae,” he admitted and Abigail shook her head, her laughter ringing through the room.
“Oh, Hugh! No woman would say yes to that,” she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with delight. “And any who did, would not be the right one for you.”
Hugh shook his head with a laugh. “Ye are meant to be on me side, imp,” he teased. Abigail, however, shook her head - her eyes alight with mischief as she moved to sit next to him.
“I am always on your side if you deserve it,” she shot back cheekily. “Now, what I want to know is what you are going to do about this.”
“What I am going to do about this?” Hugh lifted a brow and Abigail nodded eagerly.
“Indeed. Are you going to send her flowers? Ask again, politely? Woo her?”
Despite his thunderous scowl, Hugh felt the first genuine tugging of reluctant amusement at his sister’s eagerness. Still, he could not allow her teasing to fully diffuse the sting of rejection that still lingered.
“Enough of this, Abigail,” he said with a sigh. “The plain truth is that the lady willnae consider an offer unless I bend to her will and propose in a manner that suits her delicate sensibilities. Which ye know I’ve nay polished talent for deliverin'. So perhaps ye could consider sparin' a touch of sympathy for yer poor, hapless brother, eh?”
Abigail, however, only beamed wider - delighted by her brother’s pretense of disgruntlement. “Oh, you daft man,” she caroled gleefully, bumping her shoulder against his arm with playful insolence. “You cannot give up this easily. What if this lass is your soulmate?”
Hugh let out a gruff laugh and shook his head. “That is nae what it is like at all,” he insisted but his sister waved away his spluttering with a flick of her wrist.
“I am merely saying,” she explained patiently, “that this woman, who refuses to be cowed by your boorish bluster is clearly a force to be reckoned with. It’s a perfect match.”
Hugh merely shook his head and his sister looked at him curiously. “She intrigues you, doesn’t she?” she asked curiously. “This lady... it sounds like she has mettle, a spirit and spine to match your own legendary stubbornness. Why... you two must have sparked like flint and tinder the moment you met!”
