Page 57 of The Duke and his Hellion
“It's just…” Abigail sighed, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them. “It's just the way other women look at Charles,” she admitted. “I know it is silly, because… well, I suppose I am jealous and I do not think I really have room to be jealous, but…”
Beatrice sighed and shook her head, leaning forward to pat Abigail's hand. “Oh, my dear,” she said, her eyes gleaming with sympathy. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but… those women… they are quite possibly his past lovers.”
Abigail blinked, feeling as though she'd been doused with cold water. “What? No. No, that can't be right. I am no fool, I know Charles is older than I am and I have heard of his past, but all of them…”
Beatrice sighed. “Practically half the ton… and the slums, from what I've heard,” she continued, her voice dripping with sympathy. “And of course we can't be certain that they're all… well… in the past.”
“What do you mean?” Abigail asked now, her voice a hoarse whisper, and Beatrice shrugged. “I mean… it would not be unheard of to believe that some are… current.”
“Current?” Abigail repeated, her eyes wide and Beatrice nodded, gesturing around.
“I hate to ask, sweet Abigail, but… do you know where Charles is right now?”
“He has work,” Abigail whispered, her voice small, and Beatrice shook her head. “Are you certain?”
“You're wrong,” Abigail insisted, her heart twinging with desperation. “Charles wouldn't… he is not that kind of man.”
“I am sure you are right,” Beatrice said now, though her voice still held the note of sympathy. “I should not spread such gossip. Perhaps… Everyone is mistaken.”
Abigail nodded, sinking back into the sofa. “Charles is a good man,” she said firmly, “He has been nothing but kind, respectful and patient with me.”
“Of course, of course,” Beatrice agreed, though her tone suggested she was not at all convinced. “The only thing we know for a fact about him, is his broken engagement… The rest is all rumor, of course.”
Abigail's head snapped up at this. “Broken engagement? What are you talking about?”
Beatrice's eyes widened in surprise and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear, has he not told you? It was quite the scandal. Charles was engaged to a lovely young lady… I cannot recall her name now, but he called it off just before the wedding. I believe the poor girl was devastated.”
Abigail closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the room from spinning.
How could Charles have kept something like this from her? Why would he have done such a thing?
“I am sure there is an explanation,” she said weakly, even as doubt gnawed at her heart.
Beatrice reached out to squeeze Abigail's hand. “I have upset you, haven't I? I am so sorry, Abigail. I truly thought you knew.”
“No,” Abigail assured her through dry lips, “It's not your fault. I… I am glad you told me. I just… I do not want to believe it. Charles has been so kind, so patient with me… Surely a man like that could not be so callous, so capable of…”
“Breaking a woman's heart?” Beatrice finished for her. “Oh, Abigail… sometimes the kindest men can be the most dangerous… They make you believe you're different and then, when you least expect it…”
She trailed off with a shrug and Abigail looked at her desperately, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
“What do I do?” she asked weakly and Beatrice took both her hands, her expression serious.
“Guard your heart, Abigail. Protect yourself,” she insisted. “And perhaps you ought to be grateful, darling. After all, is it not better to know the truth now? Before you get in too deep?”
“No,” Abigail insisted, her voice soft. “Charles… I trust him.”
Beatrice glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, then smiled. “Well, in that case I am glad I did no harm. If you will excuse me, darling–I have quite a bit to do today. I hope your husband doesn't return from his… business… too late.”
With that, she left, leaving behind a cloying scent and a Duchess filled with doubt.
CHAPTER28
“Thank you, Your Grace,” a clerk muttered as he rose from the chair in front of Charles's desk. “I shall ensure that the matter is attended to quickly.”
Charles nodded before returning to the stack of documents before him. He sighed as he moved through the stack of papers. As Duke of Grouton, he had significant business interests to manage and today was proving particularly demanding. He rubbed his temples when the door opened and his secretary, Mr. Hawkins, entered with an apologetic look.
“Your Grace,” the older man greeted, lifting a sheaf of papers. “The quarterly statements from the shipping company have arrived…”
