Page 60 of The Duke and his Hellion
His heart sank when he recognized the speaker even before he turned to face her. Lady Constance Taylor approached, her raven curls bouncing with each step and her eyes alight with mischief.
“Lady Constance,” Charles greeted her coolly. “Good evening.”
Constance, however, ignored his tone and she placed a hand on his arm as she leaned in. “It has been far too long, my dear. I have missed you so much!”
Charles gently removed Constance's hand from his arm and gestured to Abigail. “Lady Constance. Allow me to introduce you to my wife? The Duchess of Grouton.”
Constance lifted a brow and her smile stiffened as she took in Abigail's presence. “Ah, yes, of course,” she said, her tone impassive. “How lovely to meet you, Your Grace.”
Abigail inclined her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Likewise, Lady Constance.”
“You are quite the lucky woman,” Constance insisted, her gaze flitting to Charles before landing on Abigail once more. “You have managed to catch one of the finest lords in the land.”
“Indeed,” Abigail said and Charles shook his head.
“I will venture far enough to say that Abigail is quite a lovely addition to my family,” he said simply and Constance let out a soft laugh, not unlike a purr.
“Oh, Charles,” she said, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. “You underestimate yourself. I know of many women who wished above all else to become the Duchess of Grouton.”
An awkward silence fell over the trio and Charles cleared his throat. “If you will excuse us, Lady Constance. The duchess and I were just admiring the gardens.”
Without waiting for her response, he guided Abigail away — his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. Once they were out of earshot he turned to her, concern etched on his features.
“It is a beautiful evening, isn't it?” Abigail said before he could start speaking. “Lady Pemberton has really outdone herself.”
Charles flashed her a hesitant smile. “Yes, it is lovely,” he agreed. “Abigail, I must ask… are you alright?”
“I…” she looked at him and tilted her head. “I actually have quite a bit of a headache,” she said at last, her voice soft. “Would you mind terribly if we went home?”
Charles shook his head at once, his heart drumming with worry. “Not at all,” he assured her and offered her his arm. “Let's get you home at once.”
CHAPTER29
The next morning, Abigail's mind could not rest even for a second. As she paced her bedchamber, her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
The events of the past few days played on repeat in her head. It all started with the flirtatious barmaid at the inn. Then there were the women at the market, at the promenade, and of course Beatrice's unsettling revelations. Not to mention Lady Constance's overly familiar demeanor at the garden party.
Each memory sent a fresh wave of unease through her and she closed her eyes with a sigh. It hurt to think about it.
A sad smile settled around her lips as she gazed out of the window at the manicured gardens below. The roses Charles had so proudly shown her seemed to mock her now, their beauty a stark contrast to the turmoil in her heart. How could she reconcile the kind, patient man she'd married to the rake Beatrice had described?
Abigail shook her head with a frustrated sigh and glanced at the clock on the mantel. Charles would not be back from work for several hours and the thought of waiting here alone with only her thoughts as company was unbearable.
“I need to get out of here,” she muttered to herself. Without a second thought, she rang for her maid.
“Maria,” she said as soon as the young woman appeared, “Please have the carriage prepared. I am going to visit my sister-in-law.”
Maria nodded and within the hour Abigail found herself on Hugh and Harriet's doorstep. As she settled down in the drawing room, she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. This place, with its familiar sights and scents, still felt like home — more than Grouton manor ever had.
“Abigail,” Harriet's warm voice greeted her and Abigail rose to her feet, grinning at the sight of little Graham cradled in her sister-in-law's arms. “What a lovely surprise,” Harriet continued and Abigail moved to hug Harriet carefully, mindful of the baby between them.
“I hope I am not intruding,” she said softly and Harriet shook her head with a laugh.
“Nonsense,” she said, her keen eyes studying Abigail's face. “You're always welcome here. Sit, please — I will make sure we get some tea. Would you like to hold your nephew?”
Before Abigail could respond, Harriet gently placed Graham into her arms and Abigail looked down at the perfectly porcelain face. His lips were pressed together in a pout and his lashes made little shadows on his chubby cheeks. He cooed softly, his tiny hand wrapping around her finger and despite Abigail's troubled thoughts, she felt a surge of joy and love for this small, perfect being.
“He is getting so big,” she murmured, stroking Graham's cheek.
