Chapter 16

James caught up to Robert after he’d run away from Abigail in the meadow. Not something he was proud of, admittedly. When James brought his mount into line with Robert’s, Robert felt the other man’s stare boring into him.

“Care to explain yourself?” James asked, and though his tone was even enough, Robert heard the underlying anger.

He couldn’t blame his best friend. Ironically, if anyone else had spoken to Abby in such a fashion, Robert would have happily put a bullet in him.

Robert took a steadying breath and turned to face his friend.

“I can’t,” he said simply. And that was the truth. He couldn’t because he could barely make sense of his feelings, let alone try to explain them. To Abby’s cousin and guardian, of all people.

James studied him for what felt like an age before shaking his head.

“There’s only so much of that I’ll allow, Robert,” he said softly, warning.

Robert wasn’t afraid of James, though he had a healthy respect for the man’s capabilities.

He was, however, terrified of the fact that James could take Abby from his life forever.

“I’m sorry,” he said. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had.

After another brief, intense gaze, James nodded his head, and Robert knew he was forgiven. For now.

“I’d forgotten what it was like to go out in public with you,” James said casually as the men rode into the village.

Robert smiled wryly as yet another villager stared at him like he’d grown another head.

“You really are quite famous, aren’t you?”

James was tipping his hat to all and sundry, earning himself smiles, bows, and curtsies from everyone.

If Robert touched his hat, they’d probably run screaming, thinking he meant to fling it at them.

They really didn’t like him. That was what it came down to.

The rumours that had spread about him over the years, rumours that he was aware of but paid little attention to—well they had him painted as the devil himself. Up there in his big, monstrous house with his poor, long-suffering mother.

Oh, they bowed and curtseyed right enough. He was, after all, the Duke of Montvale and almost single-handedly responsible for the wealth in the village.

It’s just that they did so before scarpering as fast as humanly possible.

“You’re garnering more attention than I am,” Robert answered with a swift smile as he watched the young ladies of the village jostle for position in James’s line of vision. “What a thing it is for them to earn a smile from the Angel himself.”

James grimaced.

“I hate that name,” he sulked. “How come you get something dark, and mysterious, and dangerous? And I get something that makes it sound as though I float around playing a bloody harp?”

“It serves you right,” Robert said as he watched from the corner of his eye a mother pull her child behind her.

Had it really come to that? People hiding their children from him?

“How so?” James asked hotly.

“You’re too nice,” Robert said. “They fawn over you because you’re so pleasant all the damned time.”

“And they run from you because you’re so grumpy all the time,” James shot back.

“They run from me because they think I killed my sister,” Robert said gruffly. “And with the anniversary of her death approaching, they’ve no doubt all been discussing it in detail, as they do every year.”

James pulled his mount to a sudden halt.

“You’re the only one who thinks that, Robert,” he said softly.

Robert didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about it, either, come to that.

His thoughts had been so full of Abigail Langton lately, he barely had room for anything else.

Besides, did he really care what these strangers thought?

In spite of himself, and loathe as he was to admit it, he did care a little.

He hadn’t before. But he did now.

And Abigail was responsible for that, too. For try as he might to ignore the thoughts, every so often he imagined her here as his duchess, by his side forever. A ridiculous notion, but one he couldn’t shake.

Abigail was so friendly, and according to household gossip, which he pretended not to listen to, she was already beloved in their small Northumberland village.

And for some unfathomable reason, that made Robert wish that he was more liked. Or at least tolerated. Because if Abigail were ever to become his duchess, he knew she would want to be involved in village life.

And the only way they’d be able to do that in a manner that she wanted would be if they could travel into the village without everyone running from him and locking their doors.

It was just another reason in the stack of them piling up that Robert didn’t belong with Abigail. Or anyone.

Robert realised that while he was brooding distractedly, again, about Abigail, James was awaiting a response.

But he just didn’t have the energy to discuss all of his riotous emotions around Gina’s death, and the consequences of it, for the thousandth time. With James or anyone.

Mercifully, James seemed to sense that and with a quick nod, he once more set his mount into motion.

“You know, they’d be less scared of you if you ever actually smiled at one of them,” James quipped. “That scowl of yours is enough to turn someone’s hair white.”

It was foolish in the extreme, but Robert thought of Abigail and found himself actually listening to James.

They came across Mrs. Tellman, the vicar’s wife, and rather than give the lady his usual curt nod, Robert made an effort to smile and tip his hat.

Mrs. Tellman’s jaw dropped, and she stumbled back, tripping on her skirts and dropping a basket of bread onto the road at her feet.

Robert glowered at James’s burst of laughter, as a group of people hurried around and fussed over Mrs. Tellman, helping her to right herself and staring after Robert as though he’d sprouted horns.

“Less scared if I smiled?” he asked with a raised brow.

James’s grin was unrepentant.

“It might take some getting used to,” he said.

Robert shook his head and reverted to type, scowling and brooding, and wanting to be as far away from other people as possible.

As the week leading up to their departure progressed, rather than being filled with giddy excitement, a pall of darkness seemed to set over Montvale Hall.

The servants were still going about their business, the same as always.

But James wasn’t his usual jovial self, and he’d become very watchful of Abigail and even Robert whenever he was around.

The dowager, too, seemed to be reverting back to the quiet, despondent woman she’d been when Abby had first arrived.

And Robert…

Well, Robert either avoided her like the plague or was quiet and sullen whenever they were around each other.

Abigail felt sick to her stomach as the day of departure drew closer.

This wasn’t supposed to have happened to her!

She was supposed to have come here to spend her days shopping and visiting museums, being called upon by gentlemen with posies and sonnets.

These weeks were to have prepared her for a Season, so she didn’t besmirch her family’s name.

She was a Harring on her mother’s side, she’d been informed. The niece of the former Marquess of Avondale and cousin to the current one.

The duchess had been wonderful in helping Abby with all sorts of things; the intricate rules of the haute monde, the correct style of gown, the complicated and confusing array of titles and addresses for peers and people of quality.

But this week, Abby felt like the lone living creature amongst their small group. And worse, she felt like joining them in the depths of their sorrow. For she would soon have to leave this place. Have to leave Robert.

With a sigh, Abby put down the book she wasn’t reading and stood from the chaise.

She’d been in the library all morning, bored and restless and worrying about all manner of things.

Her mind wouldn’t be quieted, and she couldn’t shake the horrible sense of foreboding. The awful feeling that something bad was coming.

Frustrated with herself for allowing her imagination to run riot, Abby decided she would ride toward the cliffs at the border of Montvale.

But a quick glance out the window put paid to that plan immediately.

The sky was grey and fierce looking. It was the exact colour of Robert’s eyes when he was deep in thought, she realised.

It seemed their run of good weather was coming to an end, and it was somehow fitting that the weather should grow steadily more sombre in keeping with the mood of the household.

If going to the beach wasn’t feasible, she could at least take a leisurely ride around the estate.

Anything to get out and clear her head.

Mind made up, Abby tried to rally her spirits, and when that didn’t work, she figured she might as well be miserable outdoors.

Making her way up to her bedchamber to ring for Bessie, Abby had just taken the first step onto the staircase when she saw Robert coming through the door of his study.

Her heart stopped dead in her chest.

She hadn’t seen much of him since that night in his bedroom. Even now, her cheeks heated at the memory.

When she had seen him, he’d been with James, then stomped off in a towering mood about something almost as quickly as he’d arrived.

She hesitated, not knowing if she should call out to him or run away. Not knowing which she’d prefer.

While she was still trying to make up her mind, the decision was taken from her hands.

For at that moment, Robert looked up, his stormy eyes capturing her own. And she was frozen.

She couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it.

“Robert,” she breathed, unable to stop her smile of happiness at seeing him.

And at the same time, he spoke.

“Miss Langton.”

Abby immediately felt foolish. His tone was so serious. His greeting so formal.

But in the next moment, his expression softened, and his eyes grew silvery.

“Abby,” he corrected, sounding much less stiff, his gravelly voice sending shivers along her spine.

“I—I was just going to go upstairs,” she said, as though it weren’t obvious, given she was on the stairs.

Heavens! She really did grow idiotic around this man.

And as was her way in the face of her nervousness, she began to ramble on.

“Of course, you can see that. You don’t need me to tell you that. I was going to take a ride around the grounds.”

He frowned at her in apparent confusion and instead of stopping her chatter, on she went.

“Well, I was going to ride to the cliffs because I do love it there. It’s the sea, you see. Ha! Sea, see.”

She paused, but he didn’t laugh. Obviously. Because it wasn’t bloody funny.

“Anyway, I was going to. But the weather doesn’t look terribly good, and I thought if I was caught in a shower miles away from the Hall, the dowager would have my head. Can you imagine turning up in London at the start of a Season with a fever? So—”

“Abby.”

Mercifully, he cut through her waffling with that one simple word.

“Yes?” She swallowed.

“Would you mind if I joined you?”

“Oh.” She blinked at him in surprise.

They hadn’t been alone since that night.

And really, after what had happened, she should stay as far away from him as humanly possible. And yet, the opportunity to spend time alone with him, especially since it would likely be for the last time, was too good to pass.

“Of course not,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I—that would be wonderful.”

He smiled an enigmatic smile.

“I’ll meet you in the stables in twenty minutes.”

He turned on his heel and went back the way he had come, leaving Abby to stare after him.

Her stomach began fluttering madly at the thought of spending time alone with him and the memory of what had happened the last time they’d been alone.

She wondered if it would happen again and was shocked by how much she desperately wanted it to.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Abby ran up the stairs in a terribly unladylike way.

But she had only twenty minutes, and most of that would be spent trying to calm her nerves.

“Did you have a particular location in mind?”

Robert was waiting for her as she entered the stables precisely twenty minutes later, fiddling with the button on her riding glove as she went.

Abigail looked up at his question and saw that he was holding the reins of his stallion, Storm, and the gelding that she’d been using since her arrival.

She’d come to think of the animal as her own but of course, he wasn’t hers and after this week, she’d likely never see him again.

A pang of sadness twisted her heart, and it was all Abby could do to keep her countenance as she reached Robert and the horses.

“Not really,” she said. “I just wanted to get some air. To clear my mind.”

“You have a lot on your mind?” he asked softly.

As a matter of fact, I do, she wanted to say. Namely, the fact that I am desperately in love with you and am about to go somewhere I don’t want to go and meet people I don’t want to meet. And I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.

But that probably wasn’t wise.

“I suppose I’m nervous,” she said instead. “Going to London, meeting all those new people. Being judged mercilessly wherever I go,” she quipped and earned herself a grin.

A groom rushed over with a step for Abby, and she deftly swung herself into the gelding’s saddle, trying not to stare as Robert lifted himself onto Storm.

He was so impressive in everything he did. So masculine, so—

“Abby?”

“Yes? What? Yes?”

Great. Not only had he caught her ogling him, but now he was looking at her as though she’d run mad.

“I asked if you were ready.”

Rather than answer, she turned her mount and headed out of the stables, desperately trying to get her wits about her as she went.

“You know,” Robert’s voice sounded casually as he rode up beside her. “I’m surprised to hear that you’re nervous about London. You don’t strike me as the type of lady who would fear the opinions of Society biddies. Or fear anything, really.”

Abigail laughed softly.

“I fear a great many things,” she replied. “Rats, for one thing. And yes, even Society biddies. Can you imagine what they’ll have to say about an American nobody coming into their folds?”

“Ordinarily, you might be right to be worried,” Robert said. “But you forget—you will be entering Society with the notorious Monster of Montvale Hall. They’ll just be vastly impressed that you managed to survive these past few weeks in my company.”

Abigail studied him closely.

He seemed unaffected by what he said, but it pained her to know of his reputation. It was undeserved, she knew now.

Robert was a good man. He loved his mother, was a good friend to James, and an excellent master. His tenants liked and respected him, and he handled his many responsibilities as a duke with poise and equanimity.

He was also, she swallowed hard, almost obscenely handsome. He was strong, and tall, and he smelt divine. Though the Society matrons mightn’t put as much store in that as Abby did.

And he was passionate, too. Massively so. Just beneath that stoic surface was a fire that heated her blood with a mere glance.

Yet to the world, he was a monster.

“Why do they call you a monster?” she asked quietly.

In truth, she wasn’t sure he’d answer. He wasn’t exactly the type to open up and share his feelings.

But he surprised her.

“You will learn that nobody gossips quite like the English upper classes,” Robert said dryly. “And I am one of their favourite topics. The fact that I am a duke has me in their sights as it is. But add to that a family tragedy, an abhorrence for socialising, and a less than pleasant demeanour, and you have yourself a monster.”

At the casual mention of a family tragedy, Abigail felt her stomach do a little flip-flop. Thus far, the tragedy he spoke of had only been alluded to. Even now, he didn’t expand. And she instinctively knew it wasn’t something she could question him about.

If he wanted her to know, he would tell her. And the fact that he had mentioned it at all was progress. It meant he was opening up more than ever before. With time, he would hopefully learn to trust her more.

But then, did she even have time? Would they ever get time alone when they got to the busy world of London with all those watchful eyes?

Plus, how likely was it that Robert would go out much in Society at all?

An abhorrence for socialising didn’t sound promising. Abigail remembered back to when she’d first arrived at Montvale Hall. How petrified she’d been of the man she’d come to love so very deeply. How arrogant and rude and, yes, frightening he’d been.

But she knew him now. And she knew that just wasn’t who he was.

“It seems like an abhorrence for socialising is a good way to keep people from getting too close,” she said carefully, watching his reaction.

His eyes snapped to hers, their grey depths expressing first surprise then something so fleeting she could have imagined it. It looked remarkably like tenderness.

Before she could discern it, he’d turned back to face away from her.

“I don’t find it as easy to keep people from getting too close as I used to,” he said. “I don’t find it as easy to want to.”

Good Lord.

How Abigail stopped herself from fully launching herself into his arms, she didn’t know.

They seemed to be dancing around something here, and it had her nerves fraught.

Could it be that he had come to care for her? And if that were the case, what did that mean for them?

“It’s not a weakness, Robert,” she said. “Letting people close to you. Letting them see the real you. The man behind the monster.”

“Perhaps it’s not,” he answered. “But old habits die hard, my dear. And I’ve been alone for many years. Until now.”

He looked at her then, and his eyes blazed with silver fire.

Abby drew her horse to a halt, and he did the same.

She should tell him.

She should just tell him how much she had come to care for him. How she loved him.

“You will take them by storm, Abby,” he said, his voice coarse. “You will have them all in the palm of your hand.”

“I don’t want to,” she blurted. “I don’t want to leave. I’ll miss it here so much.” She took a deep breath for courage. “I’ll miss—”

“Ah, there you are.”

Abigail had never sworn overly much but just now, she could have happily rivalled a sailor at James’s untimely interruption.

Judging by Robert’s suddenly thunderous expression, he felt the same.

“James,” he bit out. “Couldn’t find anything to occupy yourself?”

“I thought a ride would do me some good,” James said, marvellously unperturbed by Robert’s evident displeasure. “Where are you two off to?”

Abigail could sense an odd tension between the gentlemen, so she quickly jumped into the conversation.

“I thought perhaps we could go to the river. It’s the one part of the estate that I haven’t seen, and time is running—”

“No.”

Abby stopped in shock as both gentlemen simultaneously interrupted her.

She looked from one to the other, taking in their expressions.

James looked worried, and Robert—

Abby couldn’t contain a gasp.

Robert looked just as he had when she’d first arrived; furious and ominous.

“I just wanted to see what—”

“Are you deaf? I said, no.”

Abby’s jaw dropped at Robert’s words.

“Robert.” James’s voice held a thread a steel. “She didn’t know.”

“How dare you?” she shouted hotly, fuelling the anger that kept the hurt at bay.

Robert glared at her for a moment before suddenly dragging a hand over his face, mumbling an oath.

“Abigail, I’m sorry,” he said, and she was surprised by how haggard he looked and sounded. It was like a weight of despair had settled itself over him. “I didn’t mean—” He paused then sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

Without another word, he turned his horse and shot off across the grounds as fast as the wind.

“What on earth?” Abby turned to James.

She knew what he would say before he even spoke.

“It’s not—”

“Your story to tell,” she finished bleakly.

Without another word, she turned her horse and rode off, making sure she went the opposite direction as Robert.