Page 37 of The Duke and his Hellion
“My, what... ambitious plans,” Vivian interrupted, her tone dripping with condescension. “I do hope you're not biting off more than you can chew, dear. The duties of a duchess can be quite demanding, especially for someone not raised in our circles.”
Hugh's face darkened, but Abigail placed a calming hand on his arm. “I appreciate your concern, Your Grace,” she said, her voice steady despite the hurt bubbling beneath the surface. “I assure you, I am committed to fulfilling my duties to the best of my abilities.”
It was during the dessert course that Vivian delivered her most cutting remark yet. As Abigail reached for her water glass, Vivian's eyes narrowed. “Oh dear,” she said, her voice dripping with false concern. “We really must work on your table manners, my dear. A duchess should never reach across the table like that. But I suppose we can't expect miracles overnight, can we?”
Hugh's chair scraped back loudly as he stood, his face flushed with anger. “Now see here?—”
“That's enough, Mother.” Charles's voice cut through the tension like a knife, silencing everyone at the table. He fixed Vivian with a steely gaze, his jaw set in a hard line.
“I have tolerated your behavior this evening out of respect for you, but I will not stand by and allow you to continue insulting my future wife. If you cannot treat Abigail with the respect she deserves, then I must ask you to leave.”
A stunned silence fell over the table. Vivian's face paled, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she stared at her son in disbelief. Hugh looked equally shocked, though a glimmer of grudging respect shone in his eyes as he glanced at Charles.
After what felt like an eternity, Vivian straightened in her chair, her face a mask of cool composure. “I... apologize if my words have caused offense,” she said stiffly. “It was not my intention.”
Charles nodded curtly. “Thank you, Mother. Now, perhaps we could finish our meal in peace?”
The remainder of the dinner passed in awkward silence, the earlier tension replaced by a brittle civility. As the plates were cleared away, Charles stood, signaling the end of the evening.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “I look forward to seeing you at the ceremony tomorrow.”
As Hugh and Vivian made their way to the door, Charles gently caught Abigail's elbow. “A moment, if you please?”
Once they were alone, Charles turned to her, his expression softening. “Abigail, I want to apologize for my mother's behavior this evening. It was inexcusable.”
Abigail shook her head, forcing a small smile. “You do not need to apologize, Charles. I understand. She's protective of you.”
Charles's brow furrowed. “That may be, but it doesn't make her treatment of you acceptable. You are to be my wife, and you deserve to be treated with respect.”
Suddenly Abigail felt her heart quicken, aware of how close they were standing, of the warmth radiating from Charles's body.
They both started to speak at the same time, then stopped, laughing awkwardly. For a moment, they simply looked at each other and Abigail felt her face flush.
Finally, Charles cleared his throat. “I should let you go. It's getting late, and we have a big day tomorrow.”
Abigail nodded, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest. “Of course. Goodnight, Charles. I'll... I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Abigail,” he replied softly. “Sleep well.”
As Abigail entered her home, she found Harriet waiting up for her in the drawing room, a concerned expression on her face.
“Abby, how was the dinner?” Harriet asked, patting the seat next to her on the sofa.
Abigail sank down with a heavy sigh. “It was... eventful.”
Harriet's brow furrowed. “What happened?”
“Charles's mother, she…” Abigail paused, struggling to find the right words. “She made it quite clear that she doesn't approve of me.”
“Oh, Abby,” Harriet said softly, reaching out to take her hand. “I am so sorry. What did she say?”
Abigail recounted the evening's events, including Vivian's cutting remarks and Charles's eventual intervention. As she spoke, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
“The worst part is,” Abigail admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, “I think I am starting to have feelings for Charles. Real feelings. And knowing his mother hates me, it just makes everything so much more complicated.”
Harriet squeezed her hand. “Does Charles know how you feel?”
Abigail shook her head vehemently. “No, and he can't. We agreed not to fall in love, remember? It's just supposed to be a partnership.”
