Page 61 of The Duke and his Hellion
Harriet beamed with pride. “He is, isn't he? He is already outgrowing some of his clothes and I am certain he looks more like Hugh every day. I am the one who carried him for nine months, and he has the audacity to look exactly like your brother!”
Abigail laughed at this and Harriet's expression softened. “Now, why do you not tell me what is bothering you?” she asked quietly and Abigail looked up, startled.
“What makes you think something is bothering me?”
Harriet raised an eyebrow and the women moved to sit. “Abby, I know you. You are my sister and I can tell when something is not right. Is… is it Charles? Has he done something?”
Abigail sighed, gently rocking Graham as she gathered her thoughts. “No… yes. I do not know,” she admitted at last. “It's not anything he's done, exactly. It's more… things I've heard. About the past.”
She looked down at her lap quietly when a matronly servant entered with the tea. Harriet leaned forward when the woman left, her brow furrowed with concern.
“What things?” she asked softly and Abigail took a deep breath, feeling the words tumble out of her mouth in a rush. “It's just… everywhere,” she explained clumsily. “Like at the market. Every woman there seemed to know Charles and they were so… familiar with him, flirtatious even. And then we visited this… inn, and the barmaid looked at him like… like she knew him. And I meanreallyknew him… well.”
Harriet nodded, her expression neutral. “Go on,” she encouraged gently.
“And then there's Beatrice,” Abigail continued, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “She told me that Charles had… a reputation. She said he was known for… for having dalliances, I suppose, with other women and… she made it sound like he’d not only left a trail of broken hearts everywhere, but that he hadn't stopped after our marriage.”
She shook her head with a humorless laugh. “And then… she even mentioned a broken engagement. Apparently he left some poor girl right before their wedding day.”
Abigail paused, blinking back tears. “And to make matters even worse, if you can believe it, just yesterday… at the Pembertons' garden party this woman, Lady Constance Taylor was there. Harriet, she was so familiar with him. She was touching his arm, calling him 'darling'... it was like I was not even there.”
She looked down at Graham who had fallen asleep in her arms. “I just do not know what to believe,” she concluded, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Charles has been nothing but kind and respectful to me, but what if it is all an act? What if he really did not stop his meandering ways?”
Harriet was silent for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Finally, she reached out and squeezed Abigail's hand. “Oh, Abby,” she said softly. “Do you not think your imagination is running away with you?”
Abigail blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” Harriet said gently. “All of these things you are worrying about… they're just rumors and gossip. You haven't seen Charles do anything inappropriate, have you? And you say he's been kind to you?”
“Well, no,” Abigail admitted reluctantly. “But Beatrice said…”
Harriet held her hand up and shook her head. “I find that when it comes to what we believe about others, it is better to trust what we see over what others tell us,” she said softly. “Many times, the ton thrives on gossip and drama. And as for the women… Abby, Charles is a duke. He is rich, handsome and powerful. Of course women are going to be drawn to him. But that does not mean he is encouraging them or reciprocating — and he married you.”
Abigail nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope at Harriet's words. Still, doubt gnawed at her.
“What about the broken engagement?” she asked, her voice small. “Why wouldn't he have told me about that?”
Harriet sighed and she reached out to take Graham from Abigail's arms. She settled the sleeping baby against her shoulder before responding. “I do not know the details of that situation,” she said softly, “But I do know from experience that gossip often exaggerates and distorts the truth. And perhaps… perhaps it is a painful memory for Charles, or something of which he is not proud.”
Abigail watched in silence as Harriet gently patted Graham's back, a wave of longing washing over her. Harriet made motherhood seem so natural, so easy.
“How can I trust him if he is keeping secrets from me?” Abigail asked softly and Harriet looked at her earnestly, though her expression remained gentle.
“Abby, we all have parts of our past that we are not proud of, or things we'd rather not advertise. That doesn't mean Charles is being dishonest.”
Abigail nodded slowly, considering Harriet's words. “I suppose that is true,” she said at last. “But how do I know he really wants this marriage to work? How do I know he… he will not make a fool of me?”
Harriet smiled. “Look at his actions, Abby. How does he treat you? Is he kind? Gentle? Respectful? Does he listen to you and value your opinions?”
“Yes,” Abigail said without hesitation. “He has been nothing but wonderful to me.”
“Then trust that,” Harriet advised. “Actions speak louder than words or rumors. Judge Charles by how he treats you, not by what others say about him.”
Abigail felt some of the tension leave her shoulders and she managed a small smile. “You're right,” she said softly. “I've been letting these rumors get to me and it is unfair of me, isn't it?”
Harriet nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Just a bit,” she agreed. “But it is understandable. Marriage is a big adjustment, especially when it comes with a title and all the scrutiny of the ton.”
“So what do I do, Harriet? Abigail asked desperately. “Do I just… continue and hope my doubts fade?”
