Chapter 15

It was hard to believe they were leaving for London in a mere week.

Abigail tried to muster some enthusiasm for the idea as she bent to fill her basket with wildflowers.

They grew in abundance around the cliffs.

And there would be none in London.

“For goodness’ sake,” she scolded herself out loud. “All you’ve ever wanted was to come to London.”

And that was true.

In New York, all she’d dreamt of was coming to England and spending a Season in London.

The problem was that since she’d arrived, she’d gotten herself a new dream.

A completely unrealistic, unattainable one.

It had been two days since she’d, well, broken into Robert’s bedroom and watched him sleep.

It sounded awful in the stark light of day. It was awful. Abigail never would have thought that she’d act in such a way.

It was mortifying.

And worse still, not only had she watched him, then kissed him— on his bed no less, but he’d practically had to throw her out of his bedchamber because instead of running like a proper lady would do, she’d stood there and argued with him.

Even now, days later, her cheeks heated.

How could she have acted in such a way?

Her mother always warned her that she’d get herself into trouble with her irresponsible, irrepressible spirit, and she’d been right.

The truth was, Abby had to swallow a sudden lump of shame, that if Robert hadn’t sent her away, she mightn’t have stopped him from doing whatever it was he had been alluding to.

What did that make her? A hussy, that’s what!

After she’d left Robert’s room, she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, obviously. How could she have? After what had happened?

And then she’d locked herself away for two days, claiming a headache, because there was no way she could face him.

If Abigail hadn’t lost her heart to Robert before that night, it certainly had happened then.

And he’d awakened something in her that night.

She’d gone into that room because she’d been worried about him. Concerned about what she’d heard.

His desolation had been like a physical blow to her, making her heart ache, making her desperate to help.

But when he’d opened his eyes and looked at her with such naked desire, something had stirred within her. Something dark, wicked, and sinful.

Even now, Abigail felt her blood heat at the memory of how his lips had captured hers, of how it had felt to be lying in his bed, the weight of his body pressed deliciously along her own.

“Abigail.”

Abby screeched with fright as a voice sounded just behind her.

Spinning around with a hand pressed to her heart, her eyes widened in dismay.

James was standing, wincing with his hands at his ears, and beside him was Robert, looking more handsome than ever and causing her heart to flutter wildly.

“Good Lord, woman. You could wake the dead with that caterwauling,” James laughed.

“My apologies,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on her cousin. “I was wool-gathering, I’m afraid.”

“Flower gathering, too, I see. I’m surprised there are any left with the amount you collect.”

James turned to slap Robert on the back.

“It must drive you mad, man.”

Abigail chanced a look at Robert to see that he was staring at her with an intensity that caused her heart to stutter.

“I find I don’t mind them as much anymore,” he said softly, still gazing at Abigail. “They’re growing on me.”

Abigail lowered her eyes again and bent to snatch up her basket from the ground, lest she do something mad like throw herself into the man’s arms.

She had thought that seeing him again would be embarrassing, yet all she wanted was to be with him. To have him kiss her again.

“Well, once we’re in London, you’ll be hard pressed to fill your vases, Abby, my dear,” James said, oblivious to the undercurrent around him.

The mention of London filled Abby with dismay, and some of what she was feeling must have shown on her face for James threw an arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, cousin mine. You’ll nab yourself a husband in no time, and you can demand fields of wildflowers from him.” He winked.

At the mention of a husband, Abby’s eyes foolishly flew to Robert, but he was no longer looking at her.

He was staring at James with an unreadable expression on his face.

He looked…angry?

How strange.

Before she could even begin to try and figure out what had caused his mood to sour, he turned on his heel and walked away. Not sparing a word or a glance for her.

James stared after him with a frown of consternation.

“What happened?” Abigail asked.

James sighed and shook his head slightly before turning to face her.

“I don’t know, Abby,” he said sombrely. “I thought he was different but—well, maybe some habits are too hard to break.”

Before she could question him further, James plucked her basket from her hands.

“Come, I’ll walk you back,” he said, offering her arm and effectively closing the subject for further discussion.

Robert stomped back to where he and James had tethered their horses, hanging on to his temper by the skin of his teeth.

His behaviour back there had been ridiculous. He knew that. And James would know it. And then he’d have questions that Robert wasn’t sure he could answer.

He hated that his first time seeing Abby since the other night had resulted in his storming off in such a way.

But the truth was he’d been craving her company since that evening.

Had looked for her at every meal, only to hear time and again that she was not feeling well and keeping to her rooms.

Of course, that wasn’t true. She was avoiding him.

So, when James had mentioned that he wanted to stop by the fields of wildflowers where she liked to walk in the mornings, Robert hadn’t hesitated to agree.

The gentlemen had been intending to go to the village and tie up some of Robert’s local business before making the trip to Town next week.

Already, Robert’s nerves were shredded. They were to leave Montvale a mere two days before the anniversary of Gina’s death.

He’d never spent it away from the Hall before.

But he’d listened when his mother had spoken to him, and he was going to try to remember his sister without drowning in the guilt and horror.

And there was a part of him, too, that knew being around Abigail would be a comfort in itself.

The truth was she made him feel better. She made him want to be a better man.

And so, he was braving it. Being amongst the living while he remembered the dead.

He’d found himself anxious to see Abby that morning. To make sure he hadn’t scared her off forever.

He had felt like the worst sort of blackguard when she’d been hiding away, knowing that it had been his fault.

And when he’d come upon her, surrounded by her wildflowers, his heart lifted in a way that frankly terrified him.

It felt as though he could breathe properly for the first time in an age when she’d looked up at him, and he’d suddenly remembered something his mother had said the night they’d had their talk about Gina.

Every morning I open my eyes, and for an infinitesimal moment, I forget why I feel like I can’t breathe properly.

Robert had realised with a start that he’d felt exactly like that these last couple of days without Abigail.

Like he couldn’t breathe properly.

And before he’d even been able to process what that might mean, James had opened his big mouth and said something about her finding a husband, and Robert’s chest had tightened painfully all over again.

For wasn’t that why she was here?

Even though she’d come to be such a wonderful part of life at Montvale Hall, befriending his mother, being kind to the servants and villagers, filling the house with her laughter, her scent, her damned flowers, she was only ever supposed to be here temporarily.

She was never going to stay.

She was never going to be his to keep.

The pain of that truth nearly knocked him sideways, and Robert had known that he needed to leave, lest he do something crazy like beg her to stay with him forever.

And that was crazy. Of course, it was. Nobody went from soulless monster to willing groom in mere weeks. It was insanity.

He just—he just needed to get the hell away from Abigail Langton until he could trust himself around her again.