Page 45 of The Duke and his Hellion
“We will have tea by the willow,” he decided before leading Abigail back to the old tree. They did not wait long for a servant to appear with a tea tray and Abigail's gaze wandered over the flowerbeds as she sipped her tea.
“You seem to have taken quite a liking to the gardens,” Charles remarked and Abigail nodded at once. “I find it beautiful. So full of life and wonder.”
“I am glad you approve,” Charles said with a hint of a smile. “Though I fear I may lose my wife to the shrubberies entirely.”
Abigail laughed softly. “You need not worry,” she teased. “Your conversation is more stimulating than that of the average plant.”
“Oh, what a relief,” he remarked dryly. “I shall have it engraved on my tombstone when I pass. Here lies Charles Rowling, Duke of Grouton. More stimulating than the average plant.”
At once, Abigail's free laughter rang out across the garden and for a moment the awkwardness between them melted away, as Charles's own laughter joined hers.
CHAPTER23
Abigail soon found that the tour of the estate left her with quite the appetite and she was glad when they returned to the house to find that dinner was all but ready.
Charles too, looked relieved when Mrs. Morgan announced that dinner was to be served shortly and he looked at Abigail with a smile. “Shall we dine in the small dining room this evening?” he suggested as they entered the house. “I often find that the formal dining room is far too cold and lifeless.”
Abigail nodded, grateful for the less imposing setting. Hugh and Harriet rarely used their formal dining room unless they were entertaining.
“That sounds lovely,” Abigail breathed with a sigh of relief, and she followed her husband to the smaller dining hall with a soft smile. As soon as they'd settled at the table, a footman appeared silently to pour wine and serve the first course.
Abigail fidgeted with her napkin, stealing glances at Charles when his attention was captured by the food. Her husband seemed overly focused on cutting his meat into perfectly uniform pieces.
“Do you have a favorite color?” Abigail blurted out suddenly, unable to bear the silence any longer. Charles looked up, seemingly startled by the sudden question.
“I… what?”
Abigail felt her cheeks flush. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I know that was a silly thing to ask. I just… I just realized that I do not know the simplest things about you, and we are married. So I suppose I ought to know… what your favorite color… is…” she trailed off lamely.
Charles set down his fork and a small smile tugged at his lips. “It is not silly,” he said reassuringly. “And I must admit that I haven't given it much thought. I suppose blue. What about you?”
Abigail's cheeks flushed and she looked at her plate for a few seconds before returning her gaze to him.
“I cannot choose,” she admitted softly. “I… I feel too bad for the other colors if I should choose a favorite.”
Charles laughed softly at this and he leaned forward a bit, looking at her teasingly.
“Suppose you had to only wear one color dress for the rest of your life,” he suggested. “What would it be?”
Abigail closed her eyes and scrunched up her face in thought. She could feel Charles's gaze on her and her cheeks grew hot.
“Green, I suppose,” she said at last and Charles laughed softly. “That does explain your reaction to my garden,” he teased. “I was half expecting you to move into the willow.”
Abigail grinned, emboldened by his amusement. “Do not tempt me,” she warned. “I am sure it could be a lovely home.”
“Ah, yes, I can see it now,” Charles teased. “The Duchess of Grouton, holding court from her leafy palace. We'd be the talk of London!”
“Oh, please, no,” Abigail groaned and she covered her face with her hands. “Could you imagine the scandal? Scottish duchess abandons mansion for tree house.”
Charles laughed softly at this and it was not long before Abigail joined in, the earlier awkwardness slowly dissipating. As their mirth subsided, Abigail found herself studying her husband's face.
With his guard down as he laughed, he looked far less intimidating — in fact, he looked quite a bit younger and rather handsome. Her face flushed at the thought and she returned her gaze to her plate.
“What about food?” she asked now. “Do you have a favorite meal?”
Charles's brow furrowed in thought. “I am quite partial to a good beef Wellington,” he admitted. “Though I must admit I have a rather embarrassing weakness for treacle tart.”
Abigail's brows shot up at this and she giggled softly. “Treacle tart? I would not have expected that from you.”
