Page 59 of The Duke and his Hellion
“Abigail,” he asked hesitantly, “Is everything alright? You… you seem quiet this evening.”
Abigail turned her head towards him, her expression carefully neutral. “I am fine,” she assured him softly. “I am merely tired, I suppose. How was your day at work?”
Charles hesitated. Work was not something they discussed often. Still, he decided not to press the issue.
“It was productive,” he said after a short silence. “We made some good progress on the expansion of our shipping routes. If… if you're interested, I could show you some of the maps sometime?”
“That would be nice,” Abigail said, her voice cool. The rest of the short journey passed in relative silence — leaving Charles increasingly perplexed by his wife's demeanor.
Perhaps, he thought, as they arrived at the Pemberton estate, the gathering was just what she needed.
The party was already in full swing as they made their entrance and Charles took stock of it all almost automatically. Colorful lanterns hung from the trees, casting a warm glow over the elegant guests. A string quartet played softly in the background — the Pembertons clearly having spared no expense.
Of course, Lady Pemberton saw them almost instantly and she rushed towards them in eager fashion.
“Your Grace,” she greeted Charles before turning to face Abigail. “And Your Grace. It is delightful to see you both — thank you for attending. Please do help yourselves to refreshments and enjoy the evening.”
With that she fluttered away and Charles leaned a bit closer to Abigail.
“Our first event as a married pair,” he said with a teasing grin. “The Pembertons' social calendar just exploded.”
Abigail's head snapped towards him and she frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“According to my secretary,” he continued, his voice a low whisper, “we are the talk of the ton, my wife. Everyone wants to know where we are, what you are wearing and if we are happy.”
A frown appeared between Abigail's brows at this. “But why?”
Charles laughed softly. “We are the Duke and Duchess of Grouton, my dear wife. Like it or not, people are interested.”
Abigail merely pouted silently before allowing Charles to lead her towards a less crowded area of the garden, where he procured two glasses of champagne from a passing footman. He handed one to his wife with a smile.
“Perhaps we could take a turn about the grounds?” he suggested. “The Pembertons are known for their rose garden.”
Abigail nodded silently, falling into step beside him as they strolled along the winding paths.
“Look there,” Charles said as he gestured towards a marble statue nestled among a bed of flowers. “I believe that is Aphrodite. The Greek goddess of love and beauty. The Pembertons have quite the collection of classical sculptures.”
Abigail glanced at the statue, her gaze lingering for only a moment before returning to the path ahead. “It is lovely,” she murmured.
Charles frowned slightly at her lackluster response, and he turned towards a nearby flowerbed. “Those roses are a new variety that Lady Pemberton has been cultivating. I believe they put my roses to shame.”
“Mmmm,” Abigail hummed noncommittally, her eyes distant. Charles remained undeterred. “We could add some to our own gardens, don't you think? Perhaps Lady Pemberton would be so kind as to share them. They'd make quite a lovely addition to the summerhouse once we fix it.”
Abigail blinked and nodded. “Oh, yes. I suppose that would be nice,” she said, offering him a small smile — though it still did not reach her eyes.
Charles studied her profile, concern etching lines on his forehead. What on earth was going on with his wife? For a second he considered inquiring directly about her mood, but then they turned a corner and stopped in front of a magnificent fountain.
“Ah, here we are,” he said, forcing cheerfulness into his tone. “This fountain is quite famous, you know. It is said to have been designed by an Italian master.”
“Hmmm,” Abigail murmured and Charles came to a halt, turning to face her.
“It is said that it used to house the largest octopus in the land,” he continued, keeping his voice nonchalant. “And the offspring of some terrible monsters.”
Abigail nodded, her gaze fixed on the sparkling water. “It is very impressive,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the splash of the fountain.
Charles sighed and opened his mouth to respond when a familiar voice cut through the evening air, halting his efforts.
“Charles! Is that you, darling?”
