Page 71 of The Duke and his Hellion
Charles felt a warmth bloom in his chest at her words. “Nonsense,” he said softly. “You outshone everyone in that room, Abigail. You were breathtaking.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken emotion. Charles found himself leaning forward, drawn in by the warmth in Abigail's gaze.
The moment was broken by a discreet cough from the doorway. They both startled, turning to see Thompson standing there, a tray in his hands.
“Forgive the interruption, Your Graces,” the butler said. “I've brought some refreshments. Would you care for some tea?”
“Yes, thank you, Thompson,” Charles said, his voice slightly gruff. As the butler set down the tray and quietly withdrew, Charles turned back to Abigail, searching for a way to recapture the easy intimacy of the moment before.
His eyes fell on a deck of cards sitting on a nearby table. “I do not suppose you'd care for a game?” he asked, gesturing towards the cards.
Abigail's face lit up. “I would love to,” she said eagerly. “What shall we play?”
“How about a hand of Whist?” Charles suggested, moving to clear space on the table between them.
As he dealt the cards, Charles found himself studying Abigail's face. The warm glow of the library lamps casting a soft light on her features — highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek, the slight furrow of concentration between her brows as she arranged her hand.
“Your lead,” he said, his voice softer than he'd intended.
Abigail glanced up, a small smile playing about her lips as she laid down her first card. They played in companionable silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the soft rustle of cards and the occasional clink of teacups.
“I must admit,” Abigail said as she considered her next move, “I never expected to enjoy being a duchess quite so much.”
Charles raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what's changed your mind?”
Abigail shrugged, a becoming blush staining her cheeks. “I am not entirely sure,” she admitted. “At first, it all seemed so overwhelming. The rules, the expectations... but now, I find I rather enjoy it. The balls, the conversations, even the challenge of navigating society's intricacies.”
“You are a natural,” Charles said warmly. “I've never seen anyone take to it quite so effortlessly.”
Abigail ducked her head, but not before Charles caught the pleased smile that flitted across her face. “You're too kind,” she murmured.
“Not at all,” Charles insisted. “I am merely stating facts. The ton adores you, Abigail. And with good reason.”
Their eyes met over the cards, and Charles felt his breath catch in his throat. There was something in Abigail's gaze, a warmth and openness that made his heart race.
“Your turn,” Abigail said softly, breaking the spell.
Charles cleared his throat, forcing his attention back to the game. As they played, he found his gaze continually drawn to Abigail's face, to the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the triumphant gleam in her eye when she made a particularly clever play.
“Ha!” she exclaimed, laying down her final card with a flourish. “I believe that's the game, Your Grace.”
Charles chuckled, shaking his head in mock dismay. “Well played, my dear. I fear I was thoroughly trounced.”
Abigail's laughter, bright and joyous, filled the room. “Perhaps you were simply distracted,” she teased. “You seemed rather preoccupied during our game.”
Charles felt a flush creep up his neck. Had he been so obvious in his admiration? “Perhaps I was,” he admitted, his voice low. “You make for a rather captivating opponent, Abigail.”
The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made Charles's skin tingle. Abigail's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as if to speak.
Before she could, the clock on the mantel chimed, startling them both. Charles glanced at the time, surprised to see how late it had grown.
“Goodness,” Abigail said, rising to her feet. “I had no idea it was so late. I should retire…”
“Of course,” Charles said, standing as well. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers.”
They walked in companionable silence, their arms brushing occasionally in a way that sent sparks racing along Charles's skin. At the door to Abigail's bedchamber, they paused, facing each other.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Abigail said softly. “I enjoyed our game.”
