Page 24 of The Duke and his Hellion
Hugh whirled to face her, his eyes flashing. “Of course yer happiness matters to me, Abigail. But ye cannot possibly believe that a man like Grouton has any intention of making ye happy. He is a rake — a scoundrel who will use you and discard ye without a second thought!”
“He is my friend,” Abigail burst out angrily. “He is my friend and the only person in this ton who was kind and generous enough to offer to tutor me in the ways of the society!”
Hugh's laugh was harsh and bitter, echoing off the high ceilings. “Kind? Generous? Open yer eyes, Abigail! Men like Grouton are only kind and generous when it suits their purposes. He's playing ye for a fool, and ye're letting him!”
Harriet struggled to her feet, one hand pressed against her swollen belly. “Please, both of you,” she implored, her voice strained. “This arguing will solve nothing. We need to approach this calmly, rationally?—”
But her words were drowned out as Hugh and Abigail continued their heated exchange, their voices rising with each passing moment.
“You're being unreasonable, Hugh!” Abigail shouted, her frustration boiling over. “You can't control every aspect of my life!”
Hugh's face darkened, his jaw clenching as he fought to control his temper. “I am trying to protect ye, Abigail! Why cannae ye see that?”
“Protect me?” Abigail scoffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “By suffocating me? By denying me the chance to make my own choices, my own mistakes? By judging me and refusing to listen to me?”
“Mistakes?” Hugh repeated, his voice rising to a near-roar. “Is that what ye think this is? A simple mistake? This could ruin ye, Abigail! Ruin us all!”
Harriet gasped softly, doubling over slightly as a contraction seized her. But the sound was lost in the cacophony of Hugh and Abigail's argument.
“You're overreacting!” Abigail cried, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Nothing happened! And even if it had, it is my life, Hugh! My choice!”
“Abigail,” Hugh said sternly, a dark frown settling between his brows. “Ye need to understand the seriousness of this matter. I believe ye when ye say nothing happened, not that I would put it beyond Grouton to try… but this… this scandal affects us all. In atonwhere we are already looked down upon! You messed up and ye need to admit it!”
Abigail glared at her brother, tears forming in her eyes. “Alright, Hugh,” she let out, a sob escaping from her lips. “I messed up, I made a mistake. Are you happy now?”
Hugh opened his mouth to retort, his face contorted with anger, but before he could speak, the door to the dining room swung open with a bang. A flustered-looking footman stumbled in, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” he said, bowing low and speaking quickly. “But the Duke of Grouton is here to see you. He says it is a matter of utmost urgency.”
A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of Hugh's ragged breathing as he struggled to compose himself. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “Show him in,” he growled, his eyes never leaving Abigail's face. “I have a few choice words for His Grace.”
Moments later, Charles stepped into the room, his face a study in calm composure as he met Hugh's glare head-on. He was impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place, presenting a stark contrast to the disheveled state of the Wilkinson family.
“Your Grace,” he said, inclining his head in a respectful nod. “I apologize for the early intrusion, but I felt it imperative that I speak with you immediately.”
Hugh's laugh was harsh and humorless. “Oh?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “And what could be so urgent that ye felt the need to invade my home at this unacceptable hour? Come to gloat about yer conquest, perhaps?”
Charles's expression remained impassive, his gaze steady as he faced down the angry duke. “On the contrary, Your Grace. I have come to ask for Lady Abigail's hand in marriage.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and charged with possibility. Abigail gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at Charles in disbelief. Harriet's eyes widened, darting between Charles and Hugh as she braced herself for her husband's reaction.
Hugh's face went from red to purple, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he advanced on Charles. “Ye dare?” he hissed, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Ye dare to come into my home, after compromising my sister's virtue, and have the audacity to ask for her hand?”
Charles stood his ground, his posture relaxed but alert as he met Hugh's furious gaze. “I assure you, Your Grace, my intentions are entirely honorable. I know the ton and I understand how people in our society think. It is to protect our reputations — my own and that of Lady Abigail — that I now ask for her hand in marriage.”
Hugh's laugh was bitter and mocking. “Honorable? Ye? I think not, Grouton. I know yer reputation, and yer history with women. I'll not have ye add my sister to yer list of conquests!”
“Hugh, please,” Harriet said, her voice strained as she moved to stand beside her husband. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but insistent. “Perhaps we should hear him out?—”
But Hugh was beyond reason. His face contorted with fury as he shook off Harriet's hand and stepped closer to Charles until they were mere inches apart. “I challenge ye to a duel, Grouton,” he spat, his voice low and deadly. “Let us settle this like men, once and for all.”
A hush fell over the room, the tension palpable as everyone waited for Charles's response. To everyone's surprise, he nodded, his expression grave as he met Hugh's gaze. “Very well, Your Grace. I accept your challenge.”
“No!” Abigail cried, rushing forward to place herself between the two men. Her eyes were wide with panic, her voice trembling as she pleaded with them. “This is madness! I won't allow it!”
Harriet moved to join her, her face pale with worry. “Hugh, please,” she begged, reaching for her husband's arm once more. “Think of what you're doing. Think of our child, of?—”
But her words were cut off as a sudden, sharp pain lanced through her abdomen, causing her to double over with a strangled gasp. Hugh was at her side in an instant, all thoughts of the duel forgotten as he gathered her into his arms.
