Page 32 of The Duke and his Hellion
She nodded curtly, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery as they made their way to the park. The silence between them was thick with tension, a far cry from the easy camaraderie they had shared during their lessons.
“Your Grace,” Jennifer interjected, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I am Jennifer Lourne, Lady Abigail's chaperone for the day. I do hope you do not mind an old woman tagging along on your romantic stroll.”
Charles bowed politely. “Not at all, Mrs. Lourne. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
As they arrived at the park and began their walk, Charles cleared his throat, deciding to broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind. “I've obtained a special license,” he said, keeping his voice low. “We can be married in ten days' time.”
Abigail stopped short, her eyes wide with shock. “Ten days?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “Why the rush? Surely we could wait a bit longer, perhaps…”
“Oh, how exciting!” Jennifer interrupted, her voice joyful. “A whirlwind wedding. It reminds me of my own elopement with dear Mr. Lourne. Of course, we had to move rather quickly because of the baby, but that's neither here nor there.”
“Mrs. Lourne!” Abigail gasped, scandalized.
Jennifer winked at her. “What? It's not as if you two haven't already been caught in a compromising position. Might as well embrace the scandal, I say.”
Charles cut her off gently, gesturing subtly around them. “I invite you to look around, my lady. Perhaps then you'll understand the urgency.”
Abigail followed his gaze, her face flushing as she realized that every eye in the park seemed to be fixed on them. Ladies whispered behind their fans, gentlemen huddled in small groups, all of them stealing not-so-subtle glances in their direction.
“Did you see? The Duke of Grouton and his Scottish bride-to-be…”
“I heard she trapped him into marriage. Quite clever of her, really…”
“Well, what can you expect from a girl of her... background?”
“...never thought he'd marry…”
As the whispers grew louder, Jennifer linked arms with both Charles and Abigail, positioning herself between them like a protective barrier. “My dears,” she said loudly enough for nearby eavesdroppers to hear, “pay them no mind. Half of them are just jealous, and the other half wish they had the courage to cause such a delicious scandal themselves.”
Abigail's face darkened with anger, and she took a step towards the nearest group of gossiping ladies. Charles quickly placed a hand on her arm, holding her back.
“Do not,” he murmured. “It will only make things worse.”
Abigail whirled to face him, her eyes flashing. “How can you stand it? How can you just let them talk about us like that?”
To her surprise, Charles chuckled, a sound that only served to fuel her indignation. “What, pray tell, do you find so amusing about this situation?” she demanded.
Charles's eyes sparkled with mirth as he looked down at her. “It's just... very charming, how vehemently opposed you are to the ton. Especially given that you're about to become a duchess. It will be your duty to be involved in this world, you know.”
Abigail felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. In all the chaos of the past few days, she had somehow forgotten that marrying Charles meant more than just becoming his wife. It meant becoming the Duchess of Grouton, with all the responsibilities and expectations that came with the title.
“Oh, you'll make a splendid duchess, darling,” Jennifer chimed in. “My Harriet was just as nervous before marrying your dear brother. Just remember, a well-timed fainting spell can get you out of the dullest of social obligations. Works like a charm, I assure you.”
Seeing the stunned look on her face, Charles smiled gently. “Of course, your new title will bring power as well. The sort of power that usually silences wagging tongues.” He paused, then added wryly, “Usually.”
She turned to face Charles, her expression resolute. “I need you to agree to something,” she said, her voice low and intense. “A rule for our marriage, if you will.”
Charles raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “And what might that be?”
“I will do my best to be a good duchess,” Abigail said, her chin lifted defiantly. “I'll learn the rules, play the games, do whatever is necessary. But you must promise me that you will never, ever ask me to become like them.” She gestured to the gossiping crowds around them. “I won't lose myself to this world, Charles. I couldn't.”
Charles studied her face for a long moment, taking in the fire in her eyes, the determined set of her jaw. Finally, he nodded. “Very well,” he said softly. “I give you my word. I would never ask you to change who you are, Abigail. It's your spirit, your uniqueness, that makes you... you.”
Abigail felt a wave of relief wash over her, but it was short-lived as Charles continued, “However, I have a rule of my own to propose.”
She looked at him, perplexed. “Oh? And what might that be?”
Charles took a deep breath and Abigail watched him curiously. “We will not fall in love with each other.”
