Lady Saves the Duke Page 11

  Would he expect her to capably present herself as a true duchess? Had he mentioned the training intentionally to dissuade her? If you have had a change of heart, he’d said.

  Was he experiencing a change of heart? Was he hoping she would cry off so he would not have to? It was considered to be the height of dishonor for a gentleman to end a betrothal agreement. But was this a true betrothal? He’d not asked her father’s permission yet. But he had spoken of it to his own family…

  Oh, how she wished she could speak with Penelope about all of this.

  At this thought, an idea dawned upon her. Could she speak with Penelope about all of this? Perhaps, with this new apparent connection with the duke, Abigail was not as helpless as she had always been before.

  As a duchess, instead of being answerable to every single person around her, she would only be answerable to the duke himself. Hmmm…

  If she asked the duke to request Penelope’s company for her on the journey to London, would he comply? Her aunt and uncle most definitely would not deny a request made by the Duke of Monfort, would they?

  Of course not!

  And if she made this match, for once in her life, she could make her parents proud of her. She would no longer be the trial that she had always been to them.

  She was being given a one in a million opportunity. She had no choice. She could not have a change of heart.

  Jumping up from the log, she turned back toward the house with purposeful strides. She had a letter to write.

  ****

  After writing the note she had in mind and delivering it to the servant who awaited her at the tavern, Abigail resolved to relay the news to her parents. Since her mother remained in her bedchamber, Abigail marched upstairs first.

  Standing outside the closed door, she knocked lightly. “Mama, may I come in?”

  A commotion sounded inside, and then her mother’s feeble voice. “Enter.”

  Abigail turned the knob and slipped inside. Betty was smoothing the counterpane on the bed, and her mother sat up, propped up against several pillows.

  “May I speak with you alone, Mother?” Abigail’s voice wavered, but she glanced pointedly at the maid.

  Heaving with a dramatic sigh, her mother dropped her head back and closed her eyes. “You aren’t going to vex me again today, are you, Abigail? I cannot abide any more unfortunate news. Mrs. Henry visited earlier. She told me the vicar is considering allowing you to return to church. He said he must wait and see if your behavior is what it should be through the end of the year. They will not allow you to return to the choir, of course, as that is a position of privilege.” And then sliding her gaze toward the maid, “Betty, will you please fetch me some of my tonic? My megrims are returning again.”

  As the maid scurried out, Abigail wondered just what exactly her mother’s megrims consisted of. Surely, her health would improve by stepping outside into the sunshine more often. “Mother, I think you will be happy with the news I have for you.”

  Her mother eyed her suspiciously.

  Abigail continued, “I am betrothed to be married to the Duke of Monfort! He is having the banns read in London over the next month. I am to be taken to London so his sister can help to prepare me for the task…” She wasn’t sure what else to say. It truly did sound fanciful when she spoke the words out loud.

  “You lie, child. For what purpose, I know not, but your wicked nature takes you too far in this joke.”

  “It is not a joke, Mama. Look here.” She held the letter out. Her mother frowned and narrowed her eyes even more. Abigail dropped the missive on to the bed near her mother’s hand. “Read it. It is from the duke himself.”

  Her mother grabbed at the letter and read it hastily. Upon reaching the end, her eyes returned to the top and reread it again, more slowly this time. Abigail waited patiently, the only sound in the room that of the clock ticking.

  “Have you shown this to your father?” her mother finally asked, a look consisting of both horror and elation somehow contorting her features.

  “I haven’t yet. Will you come with me, Mother, to London?”

  At that moment, Betty returned.

  “Oh, Betty, I must have my tonic. I am overset by my daughter. I don’t know what to believe.”

  The maid instantly grasped the fan off the bedside table and began waving it in front of her mother.

  “Abigail, fetch your father, at once. I will have his opinion on this before saying another word. Oh, Betty, please, pour me a tonic. My heart is beating too quickly.”

  Backing out the door, Abigail was relieved to be given an excuse to leave her mother alone with the maid. Where was her father? She searched throughout the house to no avail. Surely he had not gone into the tavern himself. She would have seen him when she’d taken the message to the duke’s courier. When she stepped out the side door from the kitchen, a commotion drew her to the stable block that sat behind the house.

  “Father?” she called out tentatively. “Father?”

  After a moment, she heard more commotion, as though something had fallen over. Running around to the stable door, she entered just in time to watch as her father began straightening some tools that had been knocked over. His balance was not sure, however, and the tools went crashing down again. He held a flask in one hand.

  “Oh, Father,” she sighed. “What are you doing out here? Why have you not stayed inside the house? It’s dangerous for you to be out here when you’re in your cups like this.” She rushed inside and began picking up the rakes and shovels lying at his feet. After righting the mess he’d made, she took hold of his arm and began leading him inside.

  “Thought I would fix the gate over by that old oak, Abby, my girl. Been meaning to take care of that.” He leaned heavily on her, and his breath reeked of spirits. Abigail’s heart was breaking. She’d done this to them! Her father hadn’t been so inclined to overimbibe since the terrible scandal following her come-out. And her mother was a wreck as well! Her stupidity was causing everything to fall apart.

  “Come inside, Father. I’ll get Quinn to go check on the gate later.” She wasn’t sure what gate he was talking about. Holding tightly around his waist, Abigail painstakingly led her father back into the house and onto the couch in his study. He passed out as soon as she lifted his feet off the ground. “Oh, Papa…”

  Her parents would have to discuss her upcoming nuptials tomorrow. Out the window, despite her trials, the sun set as always in brilliant fashion. Her life might come to a standstill or rush incomprehensibly forward, but the world’s natural rhythms continued inexorably on.

  She could only hope she was past finding herself in scandalous situations. The people in her world, obviously, could not handle another.

  Chapter 7

  Six days later, Abigail’s world had turned upside down. When she had finally convinced her parents the plans were not a cruel hoax, the discussion turned to composing a ridiculously long guest list and London travel arrangements. Her mother could not possibly be ready to travel with such little notice. They also sent word to her Aunt Edith and Uncle Hector. Presumably they would wish to attend their niece’s wedding to a duke. They would open up their house in Mayfair, and the Wrights would then stay there. Both her parents were more than pleased to hear of Abigail’s plans to travel with Penelope ahead of them. She hoped the duke had been amenable to her request for Penelope to be collected, otherwise she would have to concoct some other scheme for she hadn’t anyone else to chaperone her on the journey.

  Unable to sleep, Abigail rose at sunrise and had two small valises sitting ready at the door early the morning that the carriage was to arrive. Abigail would leave behind most of her wardrobe, understanding that most of what she owned would not be suitable for a duchess.

  Oh, she hoped Penelope was coming! Along with the excitement of leaving Biddeford Corners, Abigail was an absolute bundle of nerves. This was the most impulsive, wild, challenging experience she had ever taken on.

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  She was to be married after all!

  To a man she hardly knew. Good heavens! She could not even picture his face in her mind. She remembered his gray eyes and that he was tall and lean with dark hair, but she could not remember what his features looked like all put together. He was a stranger!

  His missive had been short and to the point. He made it quite obvious that he had no tender feelings for her at all. As she did not for him either. This was a sort of, well, a business arrangement. It still astonished her that he had taken such drastic measures to assuage his guilt over the scandal that had occurred at Raven’s Park. Surely he could have found another way?

  Lying with her eyes open last night, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, she had come up with a number of solutions to deal with the scandal that weren’t nearly as drastic. Why had he chosen marriage?

  He presented himself as such a cold man most of the time. She did not think she had seen him smile even once. And he was to be her husband!

  Did he intend her to fulfill all of the duties that were expected of a wife? Of course he would; he was a man, wasn’t he? And he would need another heir, presumably.

  And, of course, if she wanted children…

  Abigail was simply going to have to find a way to cope with his attentions. Perhaps it would not be so bad. Hopefully it would not be as painful as the first time had been—or as demoralizing. The other time she had experienced the act, the man in question had nearly shattered her soul. She had endured. With the duke, at least he would be her husband. It would be done in a soft bed. There would be no ripping or tearing of her dress or anything else.

  She would find a way to cope with the marital act and hopefully conceive quickly. At this thought, her heart jumped in wonder. A child that she could keep. She would perform all of her duties and embrace this new life she was being offered. She held tight to this tiny seed of optimism.

  ****

  Morning dragged on, forcing Abigail to wait for what felt like hours before the well-sprung, crested carriage turned onto the driveway at Raebourne and approached the house just before noon. Dressed in a formal black uniform, the driver and the two outriders wore the same livery the courier had worn earlier that week. A few horse lengths behind, Abigail recognized her aunt and uncle’s travelling carriage, already laden with several large trunks. Her heart leapt as she realized Penelope must have been given permission to come! When the carriage came to a halt, one of the outriders jumped off and pulled down the step. He wasn’t given a chance to assist the passenger, however, as Penelope jumped out on her own and with a squeal threw herself into Abigail’s arms.

  “I cannot believe it! You cannot imagine how you have shocked me! And my parents, oh, Lord, do they have some humble pie to eat.”

  Abigail, keeping one arm around her cousin’s waist, led them both into the house where Abigail’s parents were waiting.

  Never shy, never one to hold back, Penelope stepped forward and gave them each a kiss on the cheek. “Aunt Edna, Uncle Bernard!” She embraced them exuberantly. “Can you believe your daughter is going to be a duchess?” She then turned toward Abigail and curtseyed deeply. “Your Grace”—she mimicked a haughty tone—“shall you wear the ruby tiara or the diamonds today?” Both girls giggled and then sobered up as one of the outriders approached.

  “Miss Wright”—he addressed Abigail—“the duke’s orders are to continue on from here today so we can arrive in London before noon tomorrow. If you would show me to your belongings, we can load them and be on our way again.”

  Abigail pointed to the two suitcases by the door and shrugged. “That is all I am taking with me.” She spoke apologetically. She did not want to dawdle longer than necessary either.

  Turning toward Penelope, whose maid had appeared behind her, Abigail clasped her hands together. “Rosie, it’s good to see you again.” Rosie had come to work for the Rivertons just before Penelope’s come out, so she and Abigail were somewhat familiar. “I’m quite ready to depart as soon as you’ve both freshened up.”

  “Thank you, Miss Wright.” Rosie dropped into a half-hearted curtsey before discreetly disappearing with Penelope. This left Abigail standing alone with both her parents in the foyer.

  Her father was thankfully sober this morning, but nervous and agitated instead. His gaze landed on Abigail, and he smiled a bit sheepishly. “Well, my girl, let’s hope this isn’t all a cruel hoax.”

  Oh, the horror if it was!

  But she refused to allow her mind to drift in that direction. The duke was intimidating and aloof, but he was not cruel. She was certain she would have recognized cruelty in him if it had been present.

  She reassured her father with a tremulous smile. “It is not. You mustn’t worry. Would Uncle have allowed Penelope to come if he thought anything underhanded about it?” And then suddenly realizing that she was leaving her home with her papa behind, forever this time, she threw herself into his arms and buried her face in his shirt. “Remember I told you that everything would turn out all right? Don’t worry about me, Papa,” she whispered. She inhaled the familiar scent of the man she’d depended upon for everything her entire life and relaxed as his arms wrapped tightly around her. He wasn’t perfect, but he was her father. He’d done his best.

  He cleared his throat and set her away from him. “Your mother and I will arrive in London in two weeks,” he said, some warning creeping into his voice. “For God’s sake, girl, stay out of trouble this time.” He was shaking his head, looking at the floor.

  And then her mother was there, holding a handkerchief to her mouth. “Please, Abigail, please, do not do anything untoward. Do not anger the duke by getting caught up in another scandal.” Seeing Penelope return to the foyer, her mother turned toward her niece. “Dear, dear Penelope, please do what you can to keep Abigail from trouble. She has managed to ruin herself twice already. If she does anything scandalous at this point, we’re certain the duke will cry off. And that would be more devastating than everything else put together.”

  Abigail disagreed but refrained from saying so. She wished they would show more faith in her. Oh, well, perhaps someday…

  Taking one last glance around the foyer, Abigail again reflected that this place was no longer her home. She had lived here her entire life, and her parents, despite all the troubles they’d been through, had been the center of it. She hugged them each again, quickly, not allowing herself to cry, and the three ladies exited the house and climbed into the duke’s luxurious carriage.

  Penelope and her maid took the forward-facing seat leaving Abigail facing backwards. She hoped she would not get sick.

  All smiles, Penelope leaned forward, her eyes sparkling in excitement. “Well,” she said, “Now, you must tell me everything. I have simply been dying to know how this all came about! It must have been the duke, then, who compromised you, was it not?”

  Really, there were times when Penelope knew not a smidgen of propriety! Although she had known Penelope’s maid for a long time, she couldn’t be certain the woman would refrain from gossip. It was most likely a servant who had begun the gossip that had set tongues to wagging at Raven’s Park in the first place.

  Abigail raised her eyebrows and shifted her eyes toward Rosie. When Penelope stared back uncomprehendingly, Abigail shook her head. “The banns are already being read. His Grace has arranged for the wedding to be at St. George’s.”

  “Yes, I am aware of this. The duke included the details in the missive we were sent. What I would like to know is the how, and the why!”

  Abigail merely shook her head again and then turned her head to look out of the window. It was bad enough the entire world discussed her misdeeds and judged her, but it was even more hurtful to hear her dearest friend discuss her personal matters with such little regard. She had often overheard her mother discussing what ought to have been private with her own maid as well, usually about Abigail, and that had always bothered her. But now, Penelope, of all people was doing it. Glancing toward h
er cousin, she could see that Penelope had finally realized what she had done.

  Fully confident, Penelope reached up and pounded on the roof, signaling for the driver to stop. Once the carriage was at a complete stop, Penelope turned to her maid. “Rosie, I wish to have some time alone with my cousin. Will you ride behind in the baggage coach?”

  Grimacing, Rosie gathered her reticule and shawl and climbed out after the footman lowered the step. After ascertaining that the maid had boarded the other carriage, the door was closed and they were once again on their way.

  Leaving her reticule on the rear-facing seat, Abigail gingerly maneuvered herself onto the seat the maid had vacated. She didn’t turn toward Penelope, however. Instead she leaned back and closed her eyes. She already experienced the beginnings of driving sickness from facing backward. Perhaps that explained why she’d been so testy.

  “Oh, Abby, I’d forgotten you do not do well facing backward. I ought to have told Rosie to take the rear-facing seat. Or I could have!”

  Penelope’s voice overflowed with contrition. Abigail had not meant to make her cousin feel badly. It was just that always between them existed the knowledge of their different stations in life. Of the fact that Abigail was a spinster due to her circumstances, but Penelope was by choice.

  Of course Penelope had never intentionally set out to diminish Abigail’s sense of belonging in any way. Likely, Abigail was too sensitive. She reached over and squeezed her cousin’s hand. “It has been a difficult month.”

  They rode silently for a few minutes, nothing but the sounds of the carriage wheels churning up the miles on the way to London. Eventually, Penelope squeezed her hand back. “I am so sorry, Abby. I have just been hoping the wedding was the culmination of a great romance between you and Monfort. I’d imagined all sorts of intriguing scenarios of how your warmth and love had miraculously warmed the heart of one of London’s coldest aristocrats—of how you came along to save the Duke of Ice from his loneliness and misery. And of how he had developed a grand passion for you, how he saw what a wonderful person you are and would save you from a life of drudgery and treat you like a queen.”