Page 39 of Scoundrel for Sale
Abbie tried to take a step back, but Tiago covered her hand where it rested upon his forearm, holding her in place. Her heart was flying and there was an unbearable tension in her breast like a violin string wound too tight.
“Breathe,” Tiago whispered. “Listen.”
The first thing she noticed was a faint breeze, caressing her temple. It was cooling.
Soothing.
And then, the strangest thing happened. The tightness in her chest slowly unfurled, like a rose opening to the summer sun. Her pulse slowed, and she took a gasping breath.
A feeling washed over her. It felt almost like… peace.
She opened her eyes to find Tiago watching her. “You feel it, too. Do you not?”
Abbie didn’t quite trust herself to speak, but she gave a small nod.
“This is what Carlotta wants,” Tiago insisted. “In a way, it makes sense. You are her rightful heir. Her fellow Lady Dulson.”
That startled a laugh out of her.
Tiago smiled, encouraged. “You will accept the money, then?”
“I will.” She caught a tear with the palm of her glove before it could progress across her cheek. “I—I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Ah, but I do.” Tiago’s eyes gleamed. “You can make my dear friend the happiest man in all of England.”
They turned toward Gabe. He was waving his hands, palms out, as if that would deter Tiago one bit. His eyes were slightly wild, showing more white than green, and he couldn’t seem to fix them on any one point. “That’s grand of you, de Noronha. To give that to Abbie. I like the thought of her having that money. Of her being taken care of. But that doesn’t mean that I…” He swallowed thickly, then tried again. “I—I just… I can’t…”
“But you love her!” Tiago protested.
Gabe seemed to be looking everywhere but at Abbie. “I do. But I… I…”
“I know what this is,” Tiago said. “This is about the promise her brother forced you to make at Salamanca. You have convinced yourself that you are not good enough for her. Haven’t you?”
Gabe’s cheeks were ruddy beneath his golden tan. “I’m not good enough for her. Leaving aside the fact that her own brother didn’t think so, I come with fifty thousand pounds of debt. If a man in similar financial straits came sniffing after her, I would run him off without hesitation.”
“And I would want you to,” Abbie said, “if he were the type of man who had run up those debts at the gaming tables, or by purchasing diamond-encrusted snuffboxes. But you were not irresponsible. You inherited your situation through no fault of your own.”
Gabe made a slashing motion with his hand. “Still, I won’t allow you to be taken advantage of by some fortune hunter.” He frowned. “Even when the fortune hunter is me.”
Tiago shook his head. “Well, I have something to say about all of this. And it involves Abbie’s brother. You see, a true friend does not stab you in the back.” He held up a finger. “A true friend stabs you in the front.”
“Or,” Gabe said, “possibility number three—a true friend doesn’t stab you at all.”
Tiago dismissed this with a flick of his hand. “My point is, if you have something to say, you do not say it behind a man’s back. No, I will say it directly to Hart.”
“Notwithstanding the fact that he’s dead,” Gabe muttered.
Tiago ignored him. “He is buried here as well, yes, Abbie?”
“He is,” Abbie confirmed. “This way.”
She led the way to her brother’s grave, which stood beside that of her parents. It was on the edge of the churchyard, near a little grove of trees. Her heart gave a familiar squeeze as she faced the fact that her entire family was on the other side of the soil, while she was here, alone in the world.
Tiago turned to Abbie. “I hope you will not take any offense at what I am about to say. I knew your brother for a short time before his death, and my impression was that he was a very good man. But we all have our weaknesses, our blind spots. I could tell that Hart sincerely loved Davenport and that he treasured his friendship. But”—Tiago turned to face Gabe—“he was accustomed to a certain dynamic in that friendship. He was used to being the leader, the one everyone looked up to. He was the viscount, while you did not have a title. He was rich, and you were not. Indeed, although you entered the army at the same time, by the time I met you, he was a captain and you were a mere lieutenant because he could afford to purchase a promotion, while you had to wait to receive one.”
Gabe shifted uncomfortably. “Hart was a good friend to me. He never made me feel like I was less than him.”
“Oh, to be sure!” Tiago exclaimed. “But in the back of his mind, I do believe he took it for granted that he was the leader. It was that way in just about every area. Except”—Tiago fixed Gabe with a meaningful look—“when it came to women.”
