Page 13 of The Duke and his Hellion
Abigail grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Why Hugh, that leaves me with an awful lot of leeway. Are you sure you want to give me that much freedom?”
Hugh laughed, shaking his head in rueful amusement. “Aye, lass. I am sure. I trust you, Abby. Even if I do not always show it in the best way.”
With that, he was gone, the door closing softly behind him and leaving Abigail alone with her thoughts once more. But this time, the silence felt different, less oppressive and more contemplative, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and a new path had been opened up before her.
She sat there for a long while, staring out of the window at the verdant grounds of the estate, her mind awhirl with possibilities and plans. It was not until a soft knock sounded at the door that she stirred from her reverie, a small smile playing about her lips as she called out for her visitor to enter.
“Abigail?” Harriet's voice was soft, almost hesitant as she poked her head around the door. “I hope I am not disturbing you. I just... I wanted to see how you were doing, after everything that's happened.”
Abigail smiled, gesturing for her sister-in-law to come in and join her. “You're not disturbing me at all, Harriet. In fact, I could use some company right about now.”
Harriet's face lit up, relief and affection mingling in her eyes as she crossed the room to settle herself beside Abigail on the bed. “I am glad to hear it,” she said softly, reaching out to take Abigail's hand in her own. “I know things have been... tense, lately. But let's not talk about that — I am dying of curiosity. What is the season like for you? Are there any suitors that have caught your eye yet?”
“Harriet!” Abigail looked at her sister-in-law, scandalized, and her cheeks grew hot. “You are so direct!”
Harriet merely laughed easily and shook her head. “Oh, come now,” she insisted. “I have been caught in the manor for what feels like ages. Allow me something!”
Abigail laughed with a soft shake of her head. “There haven't really been many men who seemed as though they were interested in much more than a dance,” she admitted, biting her lip. “And the women…”
“Ugh, I know,” Harriet spoke softly. “Some of the ladies of the ton can be… cruel.”
“Yes!” Abigail let out quickly, her eyes catching Harriet's. “It feels as though they are just waiting for you to mess up so that they can tell you how awful you are.”
“You are right about that,” Harriet admitted and sighed. “So tell me… who is the worst of the worst this season?”
“Amelia Belmont,” Abigail said immediately, a scowl settling upon her fair features. “She is horrible — she pretends to be so sweet and kind, but everything she says has a scathing undertone to it.”
“I know what you mean, there were a few ladies like that when I was still waiting to be courted. I am so glad Hugh saved me from them.”
Abigail laughed, the sound bright and joyous as it echoed through the room and Harriet grinned. “Speaking of our protective man. He told me that he's given you his blessing to continue your lessons with the Duke of Grouton. That must be a relief, after all the tension and disagreement of the past few days.”
Abigail flushed, a sudden shyness overtaking her at the mention of the duke. “It is,” she admitted, her voice soft and hesitant. “I just... I do not want Hugh to worry, Harriet. I do not want him to think that I am going to let myself get swept away by the duke's charm or his flattery. I know better than that.”
Harriet smiled, squeezing Abigail's hand in a gesture of comfort and support. “I know you do, Abby. You're a smart, level-headed girl with sense.”
Abigail nodded, a small, determined smile playing about her lips. “Exactly. The duke offered to help — and I would be a fool not to accept.”
“I wrote him a note,” Abigail admitted suddenly, a flush appearing on her face. “I knew Hugh would not approve, but I did it anyway and… well, I asked him to continue the lessons. And now that Hugh is alright with it, all is well except…”
She sighed and a frown appeared between her brows. “Except I fear that he will not return the note,” she admitted and Harriet looped her arm through Abigail's.
“Think not of it too much,” she advised. “Give him time — I am certain he will come around. In the meantime, we might as well spend a bit of time in the library. I do believe there are a few new books that need perusal.”
Abigail grinned at this and tapped Harriet's hand lightly as she followed her to the library.
“You know just how to get my mind off things,” she whispered as the women walked down the corridor together.
The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur of reading and conversation, the two women losing themselves in the pages of romances and the latest society gossip. It was not until dinner that Abigail was pulled from her literary reverie, a footman appearing at her elbow with a silver tray bearing a single, cream-colored envelope.
Heart in her throat, Abigail reached for the letter, her fingers trembling slightly as she broke the seal and unfolded the heavy parchment. There, in bold, elegant script, were the words she had been hoping for:
Dear Lady Abigail,
It would be my great pleasure to expedite our lessons at your earliest convenience. I shall call upon you tomorrow afternoon if that is agreeable to you.
Until then, I remain your most humble and devoted servant,
Charles Rowling, Duke of Grouton
