Page 37 of Scoundrel for Sale
Mr. Vickery bowed over her hand. “I am delighted that you have finally attained the result you deserve, my lady.” He consulted his pocket-watch. “I pray you will excuse me, but I have another hearing starting in ten minutes.”
“Of course.” Abbie squeezed his fingers where they held her own. “Thank you, Mr. Vickery. For everything.”
“You are most welcome.” He bowed once more before taking his leave.
Tiago and his grandfather had withdrawn a few paces and were having a hushed conversation on the far side of the hall. Abbie decided this was as good a time as any to confront Gabe.
She nudged him with her elbow. “Care to explain what Tiago was saying earlier?”
He swallowed thickly but said nothing.
“In spite of your earlier denials, he seems convinced that you’re not indifferent to me.” Summoning all of her nerve, she forced herself to add, “He even referred to me as the woman you love.”
His eyes were mournful as he gazed down at her in the shadowy hall. “It doesn’t change anything, Abbie.”
Her heart flared with hope, even as he told her it was impossible. “But you do love me.”
“Of course I do.” His voice was gentle but held a note of despair. “At Salamanca, for one brief, shining moment, I thought Hart was asking me to marry you. And that was the moment I realized that I…” He tore his gaze from hers, swallowing thickly.
She took his gloved hand in both of hers and pressed it. “There has to be a way.”
He wouldn’t look at her. “There’s not.”
“There has to.” Her voice cracked, and she paused to draw in a slow breath before continuing, “I don’t care about leading a life of luxury. Let’s run away together. To America. To Canada. To the ends of the earth, if that’s the only place we can be together.”
At least that shocked him into looking at her. “You can’t mean that.”
She felt tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “I do mean it. I don’t care if we’re poor. I don’t care if I have to be a frontier wife. I’ll learn to cook. I’ll haul water. I’ll sleep in a shanty.” One of the tears escaped across her cheek, and she swiped at it with the back of her hand. “The only thing that matters is that I’m with you.”
She felt his thumb caress the back of her hand, but his eyes remained sad. “I would do it without a single misgiving, had I not inherited this blasted title. But it’s not just Great-aunt Matilda I have to look after. There are elderly servants who deserve a pension so they can live out their final years with dignity. Crofters whose cottages are falling apart around them. Tradesmen whose businesses will go under if I don’t pay off my great-uncle’s debts. I can’t walk away, can’t turn my back on them, no matter how much I wish I could.”
Abbie nodded. Her tongue felt thick in her throat, but she managed to say, “And so what you need is an heiress.”
“I’m so sorry, Abbie. If there was any other way—”
“How far is it to Lymington?” Tiago asked, causing both Abbie and Gabe to jerk in surprise. He cringed as he noted their drawn expressions and the way Gabe furtively withdrew his hand from Abbie’s grasp. “Oh, dear—I can see that I have interrupted.”
“It’s all right,” Abbie, said, waving one hand and fishing her handkerchief out of her reticule with the other. In the hearing room, she’d heard Gabe explaining his situation to Tiago in hushed whispers, so Tiago understood that there could be no happy ending to their story. “We were just finishing.” She dabbed hastily at her eyes. “Lymington is about a hundred miles from London.”
“Then we can make it there in one day,” Tiago mused.
Abbie gave a startled laugh. “Only if you have an exceptionally fast conveyance.”
Tiago grinned. “Which I do.”
“Why do you want to go to Lymington, anyway?” Gabe asked.
“I believe you mentioned finding some of my great-aunt’s effects in the dower house,” Tiago said. “And she is also buried in Lymington, is she not?”
“You are correct on both counts,” Abbie confirmed.
Tiago nodded solemnly. “Then I would like to retrieve her belongings and pay my respects at her grave. We will all need to gather a few things. Perhaps we can meet back here in one hour?”
“I’m not sure it will take an hour,” Gabe said gruffly.
A gleam came into Tiago’s eyes. “An hour. There is one last item of my Aunt Carlotta’s business I need to take care of.”
Chapter 17
