Page 25 of The Duke and his Hellion
“Harriet?” he said, his voice tight with concern. “What is it, love? What's wrong?”
Harriet looked up at him, her face contorted with pain and fear. Sweat beaded on her brow as she clutched at her swollen belly. “The baby,” she whispered, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “I think... I think it is time.”
Hugh's face paled, his eyes wide with panic as he looked from his wife to Charles and back again. Harriet reached up, cupping his face in her trembling hands as she met his gaze.
“Listen to me, Hugh Wilkinson,” she said, her voice fierce despite the pain etched across her features. “I will not become a widow and a mother on the same day. Do you hear me? You will not fight this duel.”
For a long moment, Hugh stood frozen, torn between his anger and his concern for his wife. The room was silent save for Harriet's labored breathing and Abigail's soft, worried murmurs. Then, with a heavy sigh, Hugh nodded, pressing a kiss to Harriet's forehead before turning to face Charles once more.
“Wait here,” he growled, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion. “I need to send for the physician.”
He strode from the room, barking orders at a startled footman before returning to Harriet's side. As he helped her to a nearby chaise, he fixed Charles with a hard, unyielding stare.
“Alright, Grouton,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “No duel. But yewillmarry her. Ye will make an honest woman of my sister, or I swear to ye now, I will end ye myself.”
Charles nodded, his expression solemn as he met Hugh's gaze. “That is precisely what I came here to do, Your Grace. You have my word, I will marry Lady Abigail and treat her with all the honor and respect she deserves.”
Hugh held his gaze for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception or insincerity. Finding none, he gave a curt nod, his attention already turning back to Harriet as another contraction wracked her body.
“Ye should go,” he said gruffly, not bothering to look at Charles as he spoke. “We have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.”
Charles inclined his head in understanding, turning to make his way towards the door. But before he could leave, Abigail caught up to him, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and hope.
“Your Grace,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn't have to do that. To offer marriage, to risk your life in a duel... why would you go to such lengths?”
Charles turned to face her, and for the first time that day, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I did have to, Lady Abigail,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “We may not have reached the scandal part of our lessons yet, but you'll have to trust me on this. It was the only way.”
Abigail's brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could press him further, Charles reached out and took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “We will speak more later,” he promised. “For now, your family needs you. Go to them, and know that I will return soon to make good on my promise.”
With that, he turned and strode from the room, leaving Abigail standing in the doorway, her heart racing and her mind awhirl with questions and possibilities. She watched him go, a number of emotions swirling within her — hope, confusion, excitement, and just a touch of fear.
For a moment, she stood frozen, torn between following Charles and returning to her family. But the sound of Harriet's pained gasp snapped her back to reality. With a deep breath, Abigail turned back to the room, hurrying to Harriet's side as another contraction seized her. As she held her sister-in-law's hand and murmured words of encouragement, Abigail could not help but wonder what the future held, and how her life had changed so dramatically in the span of a single morning.
CHAPTER14
Charles stepped out of his carriage, exhaustion settling deep in his bones after the tumultuous morning at the Wilkinson manor. As he approached his townhouse, he noticed another carriage parked out front, one he recognized all too well.
“Wonderful,” he muttered under his breath, bracing himself for what was sure to be an unpleasant confrontation.
No sooner had he crossed the threshold than a shrill voice rang out from the drawing room. “Charles! Charles, is that you? Come here this instant!”
With a weary sigh, Charles made his way to the drawing room, where he found his mother, the Dowager Duchess of Grouton, pacing frantically. Vivian Rowling was a striking woman, even in her advancing years, with silver-streaked dark hair and piercing blue eyes that now fixed upon her son with a mixture of fury and despair.
“Mother,” Charles said, keeping his voice level. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected visit?”
Vivian wrung her hands, her voice rising with each word. “As if you do not know! How could you, Charles? How could you get yourself embroiled in such a scandal? And with that... that feral duke's sister, of all people!”
Charles felt a flare of irritation at her words but tamped it down. “Mother, please. It's not as bad as you're making it out to be.”
“Not as bad?” Vivian scoffed, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Charles, the entire ton is talking about how you were caught in a compromising position with that Scottish hellion! Do you have any idea what this will do to our family's reputation?”
Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “People will gossip for a week or two, then move on to the next scandal. It's hardly the end of the world.”
Vivian collapsed onto a chaise longue, fanning herself dramatically. “You do not understand, Charles. This is not just about the gossip. It's about your future, your reputation.” She paused, fixing him with a piercing stare. “Please tell me you didn't do anything foolish, like offer to marry the girl.”
There was a moment of tense silence as Charles considered his next words carefully. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “That's precisely what I did, Mother. Lady Abigail and I are to be married.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Vivian stared at her son, her face a mask of horror and disbelief. Then, as if a dam had broken, she burst into tears.
