Page 44 of The Duke and his Hellion
“In this society, wit is our greatest treasure,” Charles said, suddenly serious. “Along with a good dose of tact, of course. It is important not to wear our hearts on our sleeves.”
“You make it sound like the ton is a hunting ground,” Abigail said with a lifted brow. “As though the vultures will destroy you if you show them your fear.”
“They might,” Charles said suddenly, a frown appearing between his brows. Abigail looked at him quickly, curiosity evident on her face — but to her credit, she did not ask him to elaborate and he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd have to be careful, he realized. Abigail was far too perceptive for his peace of mind.
Still, despite this realization, the majority of the awkwardness between them had all but faded. As they approached his newest rose garden, Abigail's face lit up once more.
“Oh, how lovely,” she exclaimed, moving forward and kneeling down to inhale the fragrance of a deep red bloom.
Charles fought back a smile as he watched her. “These are my own roses,” he said proudly. “But I do see the willow has a rival for your affections.”
Abigail simply laughed freely. “There is enough room in my heart for roses and an old willow,” she declared firmly. “This is by far my favorite part of the estate.”
Charles lifted a teasing brow at this and the words left his lips before he could stop to think about them. “You wound me, my lady. All this grandeur, and nothing ranks higher in your esteem than a common shrub?”
Abigail lifted a brow at this and she rose to her feet, careful to dust some fragments of grass from her dress.
“Oh, I hardly believe that these are common,” she challenged. “If I know you at all, they are of the highest breeding.”
“They are valuable to me,” Charles said simply, pretending not to see the small frown between Abigail's brows when she mentioned the breeding of the roses. He knew full well that she was all too aware of her Scottish background — thanks, he thought sourly, to the snobbish outlook of the ton.
He took her arm in his own again and as they neared the edge of the gardens, he gestured to a small, ivy-covered structure in the distance. “That is the old summerhouse,” he explained. “Though I am ashamed to admit it is rather run-down. We have not used it since my father passed.”
Abigail lifted a curious brow. “Might we see it?”
Charles nodded, despite his hesitation. “As long as you are aware that it is in a state of utter disrepair. I really should ask some of the servants to see to it…”
Abigail, however, was not dissuaded and Charles frowned as they drew closer to the dilapidated building.
“I am afraid it is not fit for a duchess at all,” he teased lightly, but Abigail paid him no mind — in fact, she was already pushing aside the ivy and peering in through the grimy windows.
“Oh, nonsense,” she said quickly. “It is wonderful. Just imagine what it could be with a little work.
Charles shook his head with a laugh. “You are quite easily pleased, are you not? A tree, some roses and a grimy shack is what catches your fancy. No diamonds and pearls for my wife, it would seem. She'd be satisfied with a pack of seeds.”
Abigail laughed at this and she shook her head. “There is a place, I suppose, for diamonds and pearls. And of course I do find them beautiful… but roses, old willows and a grimy shack… well I find that to be simply magical.”
Charles merely laughed as he led her back to the house and Abigail looked at him hesitantly.
“Do you think… would it be possible to have the summerhouse restored?”
Charles glanced at her, surprised. “I was thinking of working on it a bit, but restoring it to its former glory? I have never really considered it, but I suppose it is possible.”
“Oh, it would be lovely,” Abigail said excitedly. “A little haven in the garden where children…”
A furious blush appeared on her cheeks and she halted her sentence, avoiding his eyes. Charles looked down at her with a fond smile.
“We'll have it restored, if it is something that would please you,” he said, pretending not to have heard anything about children. Abigail glanced up at him gratefully.
“Thank you, Charles,” she said earnestly. “Truly.”
To his own mild surprise, Charles found himself oddly reluctant for their tour to end and he looked at her with a gentle smile when they reached the house. “Perhaps we might take tea in the garden this afternoon,” he offered impulsively. “If you'd like.”
Abigail looked at him, surprised — though her surprise quickly made room for a sweet smile. “I would love that,” she declared and he nodded. “I will send word to Mrs. Morgan,” he announced, rushing away quickly. There was an uncomfortable warmth that had settled around the confines of his heart when she smiled in that manner, and he thought it best to get away from it as he called for a servant.
“Please tell Mrs. Morgan that the duchess and I will have tea in the garden,” he instructed. The young woman nodded quickly before rushing off and Charles hesitated, waiting a few seconds before making his way back to his wife.
Abigail looked quite out of place still. He supposed that it would take some time for her to truly be comfortable and see the estate as her home.
