Page 83 of The Duke and his Hellion
Charles sighed, his breath tickling her ear. “It is hard to say. Thetonhas a long memory for scandal, but they also love a good redemption story. Only time will tell.”
They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a gentle breeze rustled through the rose bushes outside. Abigail turned in Charles's arms, looking up at him with a small smile.
“Well,” she said, her voice taking on a lighter tone, “I suppose we should be grateful that our own scandal had a much happier ending.”
Charles laughed, pulling her closer. “Indeed we should,” he agreed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Though I must say, I rather enjoy being the subject of scandal with you, my dear.”
Abigail swatted his arm playfully. “Charles! Do not even joke about such things. I have had quite enough scandal to last a lifetime, thank you very much.”
He captured her hand, bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss. “As you wish, my love. Though I cannot promise we won't cause a stir now and then. After all, we are rather scandalously in love.”
Abigail's laughter filled the room, bright and joyous. As Charles pulled her in for a kiss, she marveled at how far they'd come. From a marriage of convenience to a love that made her heart soar, it was more than she could have ever dreamed.
As they broke apart, Abigail's eyes fell on the discarded newspaper. “You know,” she mused, “perhaps we should save that article. It might be amusing to look back on years from now.”
Charles grinned, reaching for the paper. “An excellent idea, my dear. Shall we put it in the summerhouse? It could be the start of a family archive.”
EPILOGUE
The warm summer breeze rustled through the newly restored summerhouse, carrying with it the sweet scent of roses from the nearby garden. Abigail stood in the center of the small structure, a vase of freshly cut flowers in her hands, and surveyed the room with a critical eye. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity as she and Charles had overseen the restoration of this cherished piece of his childhood.
Now, with the repairs complete, Abigail had taken it upon herself to add the finishing touches. She placed the vase on a small side table, adjusting it slightly before stepping back to admire the effect. A soft smile played about her lips as she imagined lazy afternoons spent here with Charles, reading or simply enjoying each other's company.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention, and Abigail turned, expecting to see her husband. Instead, she found herself face to face with the very last person she had expected to see. Charles’s mother. Abigail's smile faltered for a moment, surprise and uncertainty flickering across her features.
“Your Grace,” she said, dipping into a small curtsy. “I... I didn't expect to see you here.”
Vivian's face was a mask of polite neutrality as she inclined her head in acknowledgment. “I do hope I am not intruding,” she said, her voice carefully modulated. “I was taking a turnabout the gardens and noticed the work on the summerhouse had been completed. I thought I might take a look.”
“Of course,” Abigail replied, gesturing for Vivian to enter. “Please, come in. I was just adding some final touches to the decor.”
An awkward silence fell between them as Vivian stepped inside, her keen eyes taking in every detail of the restored summerhouse. Abigail found herself holding her breath, waiting for some criticism or cutting remark. But when Vivian finally spoke, her voice held a note of grudging approval.
“You have done a commendable job with the restoration,” she said, running a gloved hand along the polished wooden railing. “It looks so much as I remember it from Charles's youth.”
Abigail felt a small surge of pride at the compliment. “Thank you,” she said. “We wanted to preserve as much of the original character as possible while making it comfortable for modern use.”
Vivian nodded, her gaze falling on the vase of flowers. “Roses from the garden?” she asked.
“Yes,” Abigail confirmed. “I thought they might brighten the space a bit.”
“A good choice,” Vivian said. “Though perhaps some white lilies mixed in would provide a nice contrast. They were always Charles's father's favorite.”
Abigail blinked, surprised by the suggestion. “I... I did not know that,” she said softly. “Thank you for telling me. I'll be sure to include some next time.”
Another silence fell, less tense than before but still charged with unspoken words. Abigail busied herself with straightening a cushion on one of the chairs, acutely aware of Vivian's presence behind her.
“Abigail,” Vivian said suddenly, her voice softer than Abigail had ever heard it. “I believe I... I owe you an apology.”
Abigail turned, her eyes wide with surprise. Vivian stood ramrod straight, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, but there was a vulnerability in her expression that Abigail had never seen before.
“I behaved abominably towards you,” Vivian continued. “My actions were inexcusable, born of fear and misplaced pride. I was so afraid of losing Charles, of seeing him hurt again, that I failed to see the remarkable woman you truly are.”
Abigail felt a lump form in her throat, unexpected emotion welling up within her. “Your Grace, I…”
“Please,” Vivian interrupted gently. “Do let me finish. I have watched you these past weeks, seen how happy you've made my son, how you've breathed new life into this house and this family. I was wrong about you, Abigail, and I am truly, deeply sorry for the pain I caused you.”
Abigail took a deep breath, steadying herself before she spoke. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said softly. “I appreciate your words more than I can express. And... I forgive you.”
