Page 38 of The Duke and his Hellion
“Oh Abby,” Harriet said gently, “agreements like that rarely work when the heart is involved. Perhaps if you talked to Charles…”
“No,” Abigail interrupted firmly. “I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. Besides, after tonight... I am not sure I could bear it if Charles rejected me too.”
Harriet pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh, my dear. What a mess this all is.”
As they embraced, there was a soft knock at the door. Hugh entered, his face etched with concern.
“Abby,” he said gruffly, “are ye alright? That woman was out of line tonight.”
Abigail managed a weak smile. “I am fine, Hugh. Really. Charles handled it well.”
Hugh nodded, a grudging respect in his eyes. “He did at that. Never thought I would see the day when I would be impressed by Grouton. Perhaps he will not be the worst husband —though I still would have preferred if you'd married without a scandal, if you'd found someone in a more natural way rather than entering a loveless marriage…”
Harriet flashed Abigail a quick smile and the latter rose to her feet quickly, her eyes flushed. She was certain she would not be able to hide the heartbreaking knowledge from her brother.
Her marriage would not be a loveless one — but the love would only come from her and there was nothing that could heal her broken heart.
* * *
It was not Abigail alone who felt the weight of her impending marriage. Where he sat in his study, Charles too was troubled. He looked up with a frown when his mother skulked into the study and sat down across from him. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.
Vivian was the first to break the silence. “Charles, darling, surely you can see that I only have your best interests at heart.”
Charles turned to face her, his expression a mixture of frustration and weariness. “Do you, Mother? Because from where I am standing, it seems you're doing your best to drive away the woman I am about to marry. Despite your promise to me.”
Vivian's face softened slightly. “I just do not want to see you hurt again, my dear. After what happened with Grace?—”
“This is nothing like Grace,” Charles interrupted, his voice sharp. “Abigail is different. She's kind, intelligent, and genuinely cares about others. She doesn't deserve your scorn or your judgment.”
“But can you be certain?” Vivian pressed. “How well do you really know her? I just fear you're rushing into this marriage without considering the consequences.”
“What consequences?” Charles shot back. “You went on about her table manners and her blood — none of which have the least to do with what Grace did!”
Vivian opened and closed her mouth in a futile attempt to answer.
Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mother, I appreciate your concern, but your rudeness this evening was entirely unacceptable and uncalled for — as your son, I was ashamed and as the duke…”
Vivian looked down and Charles frowned angrily. “As the duke, I am enraged,” he continued. “You claim to be concerned about our family's reputation but tonight theScottishduke and his sister came off looking far better than our family.”
“I was trying to protect you,” Vivian muttered and Charles sighed. “I am not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions.”
“Even if those decisions might lead to heartbreak?” Vivian asked softly.
Charles was quiet for a moment, then he sighed. “That's why Abigail and I have an agreement,” he said finally. “We are entering this marriage as partners, nothing more. There will be no love involved, so there can be no heartbreak.”
Vivian studied her son's face carefully. “And you truly believe that's possible? To live side by side with someone, to share a life, and feel nothing?”
Charles nodded, though a flicker of doubt crossed his face. “It's for the best, Mother. This way, we both know where we stand.”
Though Vivian's expression was skeptical, she didn't press the issue. Instead, she sighed heavily. “Very well. If this is truly what you want, I will... try to be more welcoming to Abigail. For your sake.”
Charles nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Mother. That's all I ask.”
Vivian simply nodded before taking her leave. Charles took a long sip of his brandy, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. He'd made his decision, he reminded himself. This arrangement was the best way to protect both of them from the pain of betrayal, and the agony of a broken heart.
And yet... the memory of Abigail's smile, the warmth in her eyes when she spoke of her plans for the future, the gentle strength she'd shown in the face of his mother's barbs — all of it haunted him.
“It's just nerves,” he muttered to himself, draining the last of his brandy. “Pre-wedding nerves, and nothing more.”
