Page 70 of The Duke and his Hellion
Abigail sank back onto the sofa, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. She was falling for Charles, there was no denying it now. But the thought terrified her. It was not just the promise they'd made to each other, though that weighed heavily on her conscience. It was the vulnerability of it all, the risk of opening her heart only to have it shattered.
As the afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, Abigail remained lost in thought. She knew she should feel relieved and reassured by Thompson's confirmation of Charles's whereabouts. Instead, she felt more confused than ever, caught between her growing feelings for her husband and the fear of what those feelings might mean.
With a heavy sigh, she picked up her discarded book, hoping to lose herself in its pages and escape the tumult of her own heart. But even as her eyes scanned the words, her mind kept drifting back to Charles — his laugh, his smile, the warmth of his hand in hers.
She was falling in love with her husband, and she had no idea what to do about it.
CHAPTER34
Charles heaved a weary sigh as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Grouton Manor. The emergency at the factory had been more complex than anticipated, requiring his full attention for the better part of the day. As he stepped down from the carriage, he felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. He was home.
The thought brought a small smile to his lips. Home. It was strange how quickly he'd come to associate that word with Abigail's presence.
“Welcome back, Your Grace,” Thompson greeted him at the door. “The duchess is in the library.”
Charles nodded his thanks, his feet already carrying him in that direction. He paused in the doorway, taking a moment to observe Abigail unnoticed. She was curled up in her favorite armchair, a book open on her lap, but her gaze was distant, unfocused. She looked troubled, and Charles felt a twinge of concern.
“Abigail?” he called softly, not wanting to startle her.
She looked up, her face brightening as she saw him. “Charles! You're back.”
“Indeed I am ,” he replied, moving into the room. “I hope you weren't too bored without me.”
A strange expression flitted across Abigail's face, there and gone so quickly Charles was not sure he'd seen it at all. “Oh, no,” she said, her voice light. “I had a visitor earlier. A friend came to call.”
For some reason, she refrained from telling him who exactly it was and Charles, supposing it was Harriet, smiled as he settled into the chair opposite her. “How lovely. I trust you had a pleasant visit?”
Again, that odd look passed over Abigail's features. “It was... interesting,” she said carefully. “But never mind that. How was your day? Thompson mentioned there was an emergency at the factory?”
Charles shook his head and sighed. “It was a mechanical failure,” he explained, gesturing to his disheveled appearance. “I had no choice but to jump in and help to fix it if we didn’t want to halt production for the rest of the day. I am afraid I spent my entire day between parts of metal and oil–and I must admit, I prefer the paperwork.”
Abigail leaned forward and laughed softly. “I do not know,” she teased. “It sounds quite exciting. Were you at least able to resolve the issue?”
Charles chuckled. “Exciting is not quite the word I would use, but we managed to resolve it — and I suppose it was satisfying to fix the issue.” He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. “But enough about my dull day. I have something far more interesting to share with you.”
Abigail tilted her head, curiosity plain on her face. “Oh? What might that be?”
With a flourish, Charles produced a stack of newspapers from behind his back. “The latest society columns,” he announced. “And, my dearest wife, you are the talk of the ton.”
Abigail's eyes widened. “Me? But why? What did I do?”
Charles grinned, unfolding one of the papers. “Shall I read you some excerpts? I think you'll find them most illuminating.”
At Abigail's hesitant nod, he cleared his throat and began to read.
“The belle of the Fairfax ball was undoubtedly the new Duchess of Grouton. Her Grace cut a striking figure in emerald silk, her grace and poise capturing the attention of all in attendance.”
He glanced up to see Abigail's cheeks flushing a delicate pink. Encouraged, he continued.
“Her Grace's charm and wit were on full display as she conversed with ease among the cream of society. It is clear that the duke has found a most worthy partner in his new bride.”
“Charles,” Abigail protested weakly, her face now a brilliant red. “Surely you are jesting. They can’t have written that.”
“They most certainly did,” Charles insisted, his voice warm with pride. “But I must admit that I am disappointed in them. They are understating your loveliness.” He turned to another paper, his eyes scanning the page. “Ah, here's another.”
“The Duchess of Grouton was the envy of all ladies present, her natural beauty outshining even the most elaborate gowns and jewels.”
Abigail ducked her head, a shy smile playing about her lips. “Perhaps they were simply impressed by my handsome husband,” she murmured.
