Page 79 of The Duke and his Hellion
After what felt like an eternity, they emerged into a small clearing. Charles's eyes immediately locked onto a familiar figure, and his heart stopped.
Abigail stood in the center of the clearing, locked in an intimate embrace with a tall, dark-haired man. Charles felt as though he had been punched in the stomach, all the air leaving his lungs in a rush. He stared, unable to comprehend the scene before him.
This could not be happening. Not Abigail. Not his sweet, kind, wonderful Abigail. She wouldn't do this to him. She couldn’t.
And yet, there she was, in another man’s arms.
CHAPTER38
Unaware of the crowd that had gathered around them, Abigail’s heart pounded wildly in her chest as she struggled against Frederic's iron grip. His arms were like steel bands around her waist, holding her firmly against his body despite her frantic attempts to break free.
“Let me go!” she hissed, her voice low and desperate. “Please! Let go of me, I don’t understand… How…”
Frederic’s laugh was low and cruel in her ear. “Oh, stop playing, Your Grace! Do not pretend that there isn’t something between us, something special…”
Panic clawed at Abigail's throat as she realized the hopelessness of her situation. She was alone in the woods with a man who clearly meant her harm, and no one knew where she was. Tears of frustration and fear pricked at her eyes.
Suddenly, the sound of rustling leaves caught her attention. Abigail's head snapped up, hope blooming in her chest as she saw Charles emerge from the tree line, his face a mask of shock and confusion.
“Charles!” she cried, relief washing over her.
At the sight of the Duke, Frederic's demeanor changed instantly. His grip on Abigail loosened, and he stepped back, a look of feigned surprise on his face.
“Your Grace!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with false contrition. “I... I can explain! We never meant to hurt you…”
Abigail stumbled forward, her legs shaky as she put distance between herself and Frederic. She turned to Charles, her eyes pleading, but the words died in her throat as she saw Beatrice step out from behind him, a triumphant smirk playing about her lips.
“You see, Your Grace?” Beatrice said, her voice sickly sweet. “This is what I saw. I knew I had to find you immediately. How awful… I always knew she was not fit to be a duchess. What a shameless harpy.”
Abigail felt her world tilt on its axis. She knew how this must look to Charles. Here she was, in another man's arms, hidden away in a secluded clearing. Her heart ached as she saw the pain and betrayal etched across his features.
“Charles,” she whispered, taking a step towards him. “Please, it's not what you think. I can explain…”
But even as the words left her lips, Abigail knew it was hopeless. How could Charles possibly believe her? The evidence of his own eyes was damning enough, and with Beatrice's testimony… After what Grace had done to him, she knew how hesitant he was to trust again, and now it would seem to him that she too had broken his trust entirely.
She braced herself for the accusations, the anger, the hurt that was sure to come. But nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.
“Yes. You are right,” Charles said, his voice calm and steady as he turned to Beatrice.
Abigail felt as though the ground had fallen away beneath her feet. She stared at Charles, unable to comprehend what was happening.
Charles continued, his eyes never leaving Beatrice's face. “Abigail is clearly not fit to be a duchess.”
For a moment, Abigail couldn't breathe. She felt as though she'd been struck, the pain of Charles's words more devastating than any physical blow. This couldn't be happening. It could not be real.
But Charles was not finished. “Perhaps it is indeed you, Beatrice,” he said, his voice taking on a tender quality that made Abigail’s stomach churn, “you are clearly the one for me.”
Beatrice’s face lit up with unbridled joy. “Oh, Charles!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. “At last you have realized! After everything I did to make you see…”
“Everything you did?” Charles asked, his tone curious. “Tell me, my darling. What exactly did you do? I want to thank you properly for opening my eyes.”
Beatrice preened under his attention, her words tumbling out in an excited rush. “Oh, it was nothing, really. I just made sure to spread some rumors, you know. Made you out to be the worst sort of rake. I wanted to be sure Abigail had the worst possible impression of you. And of course she believed it. I never would have.”
She giggled, the sound grating on Abigail's nerves. “And of course, I had to make sure she saw you in a compromising position. That fellow over there?” She gestured towards Frederic. “Just an actor I paid to play the part of a baron. It was all too easy, really. But your eyes are open now.”
As Beatrice spoke, Abigail watched Charles’s expression change. The tender look vanished, replaced by a cold fury that sent a shiver down her spine.
“I see,” Charles said, his voice like ice. “That was all I needed to hear.”
