Page 43 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
Harriet smiled, her heart warming at the girl’s unbridled joy. “You were right - it is a rather nice way to spend the afternoon,” she said, her gaze drifting to where Hugh stood a short distance away, deep in conversation with the head groundskeeper. “And I know Hugh has been working so hard lately, I thought it might do him some good to take a break and enjoy the sunshine for a bit.”
Abigail nodded, her expression turning sly as she followed Harriet's gaze. “My brother needed this,” she said. “And so did you - and of course it does no harm to have the two of you spend a bit of time together. Even though I am here as a third wheel.”
Harriet felt her cheeks flush, a telltale heat creeping up her neck as she swatted at Abigail’s arm. “Hush, you,” she admonished, her voice a low hiss. “I don't know what you're talking about. Hugh and I are just... friends. Friends... who happen to be married. That's all.”
But even as the words left her lips, Harriet knew they rang hollow. In truth, her feelings for Hugh had been growing steadily over the past few months, blossoming into something that felt dangerously close to love. She found herself seeking out his company more and more, finding excuses to linger in his presence and bask in the warmth of his smile. And when he looked at her, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that made her heart skip a beat...Harriet couldn't help but hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he might be feeling something too.
But she couldn't let herself dwell on such thoughts, couldn't allow herself to hope for something that could never be. They had made a promise, after all, a vow to guard their hearts against the perils of love and the heartbreak that so often followed in its wake. And Harriet was determined to keep that promise, no matter how much her traitorous heart might yearn for something more.
Shaking herself from her musings, Harriet turned back to Abigail, a bright smile fixed firmly upon her face. “Now, let's not waste any more time on silly gossip,” she said, her voice deliberately light. “We have a picnic to enjoy, and I for one am absolutely famished.”
Abigail giggled, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she allowed Harriet to lead her over to the blanket. They settled themselves amongst the plump cushions, their skirts billowing around them in a froth of silk and lace. Harriet busied herself with pouring the lemonade, her hands trembling slightly as she felt Hugh's gaze upon her, his presence a warm, solid weight at her back.
“This looks delicious,” he rumbled, his voice low and appreciative as he surveyed the spread before them. “Cook has outdone herself, daenae ye think lassies? I don't think I've seen a finer picnic in all me life.”
Harriet ducked her head and grinned. “Cook really did a lovely job,” she agreed. “All of this looks quite delectable.”
Hugh nodded and a smile spread across his face. “Ye have to take some of the credit,” he said with a smile. “Ye, after all, have been running the whole household, lass.”
She darted a glance at Hugh from beneath her lashes, her breath catching in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw something flicker in those fathomless blue eyes, a heat and a hunger that made her pulse race and her skin tingle. But then he blinked, and the moment was gone, his expression smoothing into one of polite appreciation.
“And I for one am grateful for yer efforts,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “It’s nae often I get to enjoy the pleasure of such fine company and even finer food.”
Abigail nodded, her mouth already full of the small sandwiches that cook had prepared.
“It is wonderful, Harriet,” she mumbled once she swallowed. “Thank you for arranging this. It was a fantastic idea.”
Harriet laughed softly and nodded. “Thank you, Abigail. I am glad you are enjoying it. I thought it may be nice.”
The three of them fell into a companionable silence then, the only sound the gentle clink of cutlery and the distant chirping of birds in the trees. Harriet found herself sneaking glances at Hugh from the corner of her eye, her gaze tracing the strong line of his jaw and the way the sunlight glinted off his fiery hair. He looked so at ease here, so relaxed and content in a way she rarely saw him. It made her heart swell with a fierce, protective sort of love, a desire to see him always so unguarded and free.
As if sensing her gaze upon him, Hugh turned to look at her, his lips quirking up in a crooked smile that made her stomach flutter. “Somethin’ on yer mind, lass?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing rumble.
Harriet shook her head, a faint blush staining her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to her plate. “No, I was just... enjoying the view,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
Hugh’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with a mischief that made her breath catch. “Aye, it is a bonny view,” he agreed, his gaze never leaving her face. “Though I dare say the company is even more pleasin’ to the eye.”
Harriet's blush deepened, her skin heating under the intensity of his stare. She opened her mouth to reply, to say something witty and flirtatious that would mask the way her heart was racing in her chest...but before she could speak, Abigail's voice cut through the charged air between them, bright and bubbling with excitement.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and sparkling. “I wanted to tell you both the good news. Lady Pendleton has invited me to her summer house party next month, as a sort of pre-debut event. She says it will be a wonderful opportunity to make some connections and get a feel for what the season will be like.”
Harriet felt a pang of concern at Abigail's words, her brow furrowing as she looked at Hugh. She knew how protective he was of his sister, how fiercely he guarded her against the cruelties and judgments of theton. The thought of Abigail being thrown to the wolves, of facing the same prejudices and slights that Hugh had endured all his life...it made her heart ache with a fierce, aching empathy.
But to her surprise, Hugh’s face showed no sign of distress or disapproval. Instead, he looked thoughtful, his gaze distant as he considered Abigail's words. “A house party, ye say?” he mused, his voice slow and measured. “Aye, that could be a good opportunity for ye, lass. A chance to make some connections and get yer feet wet before the season starts in earnest.”
Abigail’s face lit up, her smile brighter than the sun itself. “Oh, thank you, Hugh!” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. “I was so worried you would say no, that you would think it was too soon or too dangerous for me to be out in society.”
Hugh chuckled, his arms coming up to return her embrace. “Aye, well, I willnae pretend I’m nae worried,” he admitted, his voice gruff with emotion. “Thetoncan be a right brutal place, and I know ye’ve got yer work cut out for ye, bein’ a Wilkinson and all. But I also know that ye’re strong and clever and more than capable of holdin’ yer own against the likes of them. And ye’ve got me and Harriet to back ye up, to make sure no one tries any funny business or treats ye with anythin’ less than the respect ye deserve.”
Abigail pulled back, her eyes shining with tears of gratitude. “I know,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I'm so grateful for that, truly. I don't know what I would do without you both.”
Harriet felt her own eyes misting over, her heart swelling with love for her sister-in-law. “We will always be here for you, Abigail,” she said, her voice soft but fierce with conviction. “No matter what happens, no matter what challenges you face...we will be right by your side, cheering you on and fighting for you every step of the way.”
Abigail sniffled, a watery smile spreading across her face as she looked from Harriet to Hugh and back again. “I know,” she said, her voice thick with feeling. “And I love you both so much for it.”
For a moment, the three of them simply sat there, basking in the warmth of their shared affection and the knowledge that they would always have each other, no matter what the future might bring. And then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, Abigail reached for the plate of desserts, her voice taking on a playful, teasing lilt.
“Now, enough of this sappy talk,” she said, her nose wrinkling in mock disgust. “I believe I was promised a proper picnic, and that means plenty of cake and sweets to go around.”
