Page 28 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
Abigail was quiet for a long moment, her brow furrowed in thought. When she spoke again, her voice was soft but filled with a quiet conviction.
“I don't want you to do this for me, Hugh. I don't want you to sacrifice your own happiness on the altar of my future. I'm stronger than you think, and I can weather whatever storms may come my way.”
Hugh's heart swelled with pride and love for his brave, indomitable sister. But he knew he could not let her face the cruelties of the world alone, not when it was within his power to shield her from them.
“I know ye are strong, Abigail. Stronger than anyone I've ever known. But ye must understand, our position in society is already precarious, our every move scrutinized and judged because of our foreign blood. If I daenae take this step, if I allow the scandal to taint our name, it will be even harder for ye to make a good match, to secure yer place in this unforgivin' world.”
He took her hands in his, his grip firm and reassuring. "I willnae let that happen, wee one. I willnae let me actions be the ones to dull the brightness of yer future. Ye deserve nothin' but the best - the best and more still - and I will move heaven and earth to make sure you have it."
Abigail’s eyes shone with unshed tears, her love and gratitude a palpable force between them. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely as she buried her face in his shoulder.
“I love you, Hugh,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric of his coat. “And I know that whatever happens, we will face it together, as a family.”
Hugh flashed her a smile and looked down at her. “Aye, lass. Together, always.”
They sat like that for a long while, drawing strength and comfort from each other as the last light of day faded from the sky. When, at last, they pulled apart, Abigail’s eyes were dry and filled with a newfound determination.
“Tell me about her,” she said, a hint of mischief creeping into her tone. “This Lady Harriet who has managed to capture your attention so thoroughly.”
Hugh chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “Captured me attention? More like driven me to the brink of madness, I'd say. She is unlike any woman I've ever known, Abby. Fiery and fearless, with a tongue sharp enough to cut glass and a spirit that cannae be tamed.”
Abigail grinned, her eyes sparkling with delight. “She sounds perfectly delightful, Hugh. A true match for your own stubborn will and quick wit.”
Hugh scoffed, though he could not quite suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. “Delightful? I suppose that's one word for it. Infuriatin', exasperatin', utterly impossible...those might be more accurate.”
But even as he spoke the words, he knew they were not entirely true. For beneath the bluster and the bravado, beneath the simmering tension that crackled between them like lightning, there was something else, something deeper and more profound that he could not quite put a name to.
Abigail, with her uncanny intuition, seemed to sense the unspoken truth behind his words. She smiled softly, a knowing glint in her eye.
“I think you protest too much, dear brother. I think perhaps this Lady Harriet has gotten under your skin in ways you never expected, ways you are not quite ready to admit to yourself.”
Hugh opened his mouth to deny it, to brush off her fanciful notions with a scoff and a jest. But the words would not come, caught in his throat like shards of glass.
Because deep down, in a place he scarcely dared to acknowledge, he knew she was right. Harriet Lourne had indeed gotten under his skin, had burrowed her way into his very soul until he could scarcely remember a time when she had not been there, a constant presence in his thoughts and dreams.
And though he knew it was madness, though he knew he should guard his heart against such weakness, he could not help but wonder...could not help but hope...that perhaps, just perhaps, their marriage of convenience might one day blossom into something more, something real and lasting and true.
It was a dangerous thought, a treacherous hope that could so easily lead to heartbreak and ruin. But as he sat there in the gathering dusk, his sister's hand warm and steady in his own, Hugh found he could not quite bring himself to let it go, to relinquish the possibility of a future he had never dared to imagine for himself.
For better or worse, Harriet Lourne had changed everything, and there was no going back now. He could only move forward into the great unknown and trust that somehow, someway, they would find their way through the darkness and into the light.
CHAPTER15
As certain as Harriet was that she would marry Hugh Wilkinson and befriend him whilst protecting her heart, it was still not the easiest decision she had ever made. As morning broke the next day, she was hardly aware of the beauty of the day: her nerves set her heart completely aflutter.
She had risen early, unable to find solace in sleep, and had spent the past few hours flitting from one mundane task to another, desperately trying to distract herself from the inevitable confrontation with her brother. She had rearranged the flowers in the drawing-room, sorted through a stack of old correspondence, even attempted to dust the bookshelves in the library, much to the consternation of the housemaids.
But no matter how she tried to occupy herself, she could not escape the gnawing sense of dread that coiled in the pit of her stomach, the knowledge that she must face William and tell him that she was willing to marry the duke. Harriet had little doubt that William would act swiftly once she did and whilst she was certain that the advice Benedict had given her would work, it did not mean that she was quite ready.
With a sigh of frustration, Harriet tossed aside the feather duster she’d been twirling around and sank into a nearby chair, burying her face in her hands. She knew she was being ridiculous, knew that her constant presence underfoot was only serving to irritate the servants and disrupt the smooth running of the household. But she could not seem to help herself, could not seem to find the courage to do what she knew she must.
A soft knock at the door startled her from her brooding thoughts, and she looked up to see her mother's gentle face peering in at her.
“Harriet, my child,” Jennifer said, her voice filled with concern. “Are you all right? You've been flitting about like a hummingbird all morning.”
Harriet managed a weak smile, though it felt brittle and false on her lips. “I'm fine, Mother. Just trying to keep myself busy, that's all.”
Jennifer lifted a brow and gestured at the duster. “I know. But I have never known you to take to dusting out of boredom. Hence my concern.”
