Page 82 of The Duke and his Hellion
Charles cupped her face gently, his thumb stroking her cheek. “My darling,” he said firmly, “my mother will learn to love you. How could she not? You are impossible not to love.”
Abigail smiled, leaning into his touch. “And you might be a tad biased,” she teased.
“Perhaps,” Charles conceded with a chuckle. “But I'm also right. Give her time, Abigail. She will come around, I promise you.”
As they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, Abigail felt a sense of peace wash over her.
“Come,” Charles said, offering her his arm. “Let us go inside. I believe we have a lifetime of happiness to start planning.”
Abigail took his arm, her heart full to bursting with love and joy. As they walked back to the house, she couldn't help but marvel at how drastically her life had changed in such a short time. From a marriage of convenience to a love deeper than she'd ever dreamed possible, it felt like a fairy tale come true.
It was mere days later when Abigail found herself in the drawing room, sitting with a book upon her lap, though her eyes had long since stopped following the words on the page. Her mind wandered, replaying the events of the past few days. The sound of footsteps in the hallway drew her attention, and she looked up to see Charles striding into the room, a newspaper clutched in his hand.
“Abigail, my love,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I believe you will want to see this.”
She set her book aside, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”
Charles unfolded the newspaper with a flourish, clearing his throat dramatically. “Ahem.”
“The Toast of the Ton: Duchess of Grouton Shines in Wake of Scandal”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Oh, Charles, you are not serious.”
“Oh, but I am,” he replied, grinning as he perched on the arm of her chair. “Shall I continue?”
At Abigail’s nod, he read on.
“In the days following the shocking revelation of Lady Beatrices machinations, the ton has found itself captivated by the grace and poise of one woman: Her Grace, the Duchess of Grouton.”
Abigail felt her cheeks flush. “Oh, goodness,” she murmured, but Charles was not finished.
“Where lesser women might have gloated or sought revenge, the Duchess has shown remarkable restraint and dignity. Her recent appearance at Lady Ashworth’s soirée was nothing short of triumphant, with one observer noting, ‘She carried herself like a queen, head held high and not a hint of smugness about her.’”
Charles paused, looking down at Abigail with pride shining in his eyes. “It seems you have quite won over the gossip columnists, my love.”
Abigail shook her head, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure coloring her cheeks. “I am sure it is all exaggeration. I have done nothing special.”
“On the contrary,” Charles insisted, taking her hand in his. “You have been exactly who you are — kind, gracious, and utterly charming. Thetoncan't help but fall in love with you, just as I have.”
Abigail squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with affection. “You just think that because you love me,” she teased.
“Guilty as charged,” Charles admitted with a chuckle. “But apparently, I am not the only one who sees your worth.”
He turned back to the paper, his expression growing more serious. “There is more,” he said, his voice lowering slightly. “About Beatrice.”
Abigail sat up straighter, her curiosity mingled with a touch of apprehension. “What does it say?”
Charles scanned the column, his brow furrowed. “It seems she has left London. The paper says she's been sent to live with an aunt in the countryside.”
“Oh,” Abigail breathed, a twinge of sympathy coursing through her. “I suppose it's for the best.”
Charles nodded, setting the paper aside. “Thetoncan be merciless when someone falls from grace. I imagine it would have been unbearable for her to stay.”
Abigail stood, moving to the window. She gazed out at the manicured gardens, lost in thought. “I cannot help but feel a bit sorry for her,” she admitted softly.
Charles came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “That is because you have a kind heart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But I am glad she is gone — good riddance.”
Abigail leaned back against him, drawing comfort from his solid presence. “Do you think she'll ever be welcomed back?”
