Page 31 of The Duke and his Hellion
Joseph leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, you'd better get on with that. The ton loves nothing more than a good wedding. I can imagine they are especially excited about this one, since it involves the notorious Duke of Grouton.”
Charles groaned. “Do not remind me. The last thing I want is for this to become some grand spectacle.”
“Too late for that, I am afraid,” Joseph chuckled. “The Duke of Grouton, marrying the sister of the Scottish duke… It is certainly going to have the tongues wagging.”
At the mention of Hugh, Charles's expression darkened. “Ah yes, my future brother-in-law. I am certain he will be a joyous presence in my life.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Not on the best of terms, are you?”
Charles snorted. “That's putting it mildly. The man looks at me like I am something he scraped off his boot.”
“Can you blame him?” Joseph asked. “You did compromise his sister's reputation, after all.”
Charles glared at his friend. “Whose side are you on?”
Joseph held up his hands in surrender. “I am just saying, perhaps you should make an effort to mend fences with the duke — for the sake of your impending marriage if nothing else.”
Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose I have no choice — though I must admit, her overbearing brother is not making this easier.”
At this, Joseph frowned and he looked at Charles through narrowed eyes. “You… Charles, do you care for the girl?”
At this, Charles nearly choked on his brandy and he shook his head quickly.
“No, no,” he said quickly. “I… she is a sweet girl and of course I feel protective over her — as I would over anyone of her station. But care for her in the manner you're insinuating? No. We are friends — I will admit that. We have become friends over the last few days. Just friends.”
“Alright,” Joseph said simply, though his look at Charles was filled with doubt. Charles leaned back in his chair with a sigh and returned his attention to his drink.
What use was it, he thought, to tell Joseph that he thought Abigail had a pretty smile? Or that he enjoyed making her laugh and that she managed to make him laugh more than most? No, he decided firmly. They were friends and nothing more.
He caught Joseph's eye and lifted his glass quickly, clinking it against that of his friend’s with a stiff smile.
“To not caring,” he announced softly — ignoring the insistent voice in the back of his mind that accused him of lying.
CHAPTER17
To say that Abigail was nervous about her impending promenade with the duke was an understatement. With Harriet in bed and Hugh obsessed with his son, Harriet's mother had offered to chaperone them. Where Jennifer stood next to Abigail now, a serene smile played around her lips. Abigail, who had always liked the fiery woman, looked at her with a regretful smile.
“I am sorry for making you do this,” she mumbled with a sigh. “I suppose you'd much rather get to know your grandson.”
Jennifer laughed at this and shook her head. “Do not fret, darling,” she said kindly. “I am not much one for babies. I'll get to know the little rugrat once he grows a bit. For now, I am far more interested in meeting the elusive Duke of Grouton.”
Abigail could not help but sigh at the mention of her soon-to-be husband and Jennifer looked at her curiously.
“Forgive me, darling,” she said gently, “but that sigh does not sound like a woman about to get married. Is everything alright?”
Abigail felt her cheeks flush and she shook her head. Jennifer was almost too easy to talk to.
“It's just… he has a bit of a reputation,” she explained clumsily and Jennifer let out a laugh. “Oh my sweet,” the older woman said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I often find that the men with reputations are the most fun. Look at my son, for example — the poor child has the cleanest reputation in all the ton and he is miserable. Awfully boring, though I do love him of course. But then…”
Her expression changed suddenly and she looked at Abigail earnestly. “Look at your brother's reputation, or even that of my daughter… and see how happy they are. Do not trust the rumor mill of the ton — too often the people spreading those stories are bored.”
Before Abigail could answer her, however, a carriage drew nearer. She released a trembling breath as Charles stepped from it. Jennifer's eyes widened appreciatively. “Well, well,” she teased softly. “The rumors certainly didn't do him justice. If I were forty years younger…”
“Mrs. Lourne!” Abigail hissed, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. Jennifer merely laughed and Abigail turned to Charles, who approached them with no indication that he had heard Jennifer's words.
“Your Grace,” Abigail greeted him, her voice cool and formal as he helped her into the carriage.
“Lady Abigail,” he replied, settling in across from her. “I trust you're well this morning?”
