Chapter 24

“Good morning, my dear. How did you sleep?”

Abigail blinked as the harsh sunlight shone through the drapes that a maid was currently opening.

She looked at the ormolu clock on the mantle and saw that it was now ten o’clock.

She usually didn’t sleep this late.

But then nothing about the past couple of days had been usual.

But after she’d lain back down last night, and Robert had taken his chair, her sleep had been fitful at best.

Though she’d been unable to keep her eyes open, and was both physically and emotionally drained, she’d tossed and turned, unsettling dreams racing through her mind all night, so it felt as though she hadn’t gotten any rest at all.

And after a time, sleep had evaded her altogether, so she’d lain there, not moving but very much awake.

She’d been so painfully aware that he was in the room.

She could hear his steady breathing. If she concentrated enough, she could catch his sandalwood scent that drove her mad. And whilst she wasn’t brave enough to let him know she was awake, she wanted quite desperately to ask him to come and lie down beside her.

So, not only was she an idiot for loving a man incapable of loving her back, but she was also a wanton hussy to boot, apparently.

And during those awake hours, Abigail had to make some very tough decisions.

At some point, she must have fallen back asleep, not waking until now.

A memory of last night’s conversation with Robert popped into her mind, and she was suddenly fully alert.

I’m so sorry, sweetheart. She hadn’t imagined that. Had she?

She sat up, pushing as many blankets as possible off of her, and darted her gaze around.

But Robert was nowhere to be seen.

Abigail supposed it was for the best. It wouldn’t do for them to be alone in the study together. Her sleeping in there was already terribly unorthodox.

“Um, very well, your grace. Thank you,” she managed to remember to answer the older lady.

“I am having a bath brought to your rooms. When you are ready, we will send for James or Robert to help us get you upstairs.”

The dowager chattered away, oblivious to Abigail’s turmoil. For she was remembering how it had felt to be carried by Robert last night.

To be taken care of by him.

He’d kissed her last night when he’d found her by the river.

And right before she’d fallen asleep, hadn’t he called her sweetheart?

“Abigail?”

“Yes!”

Abigail snapped her thoughts back to the present.

“I asked if you were ready to bathe, dear,” the dowager said serenely.

“Yes. Thank you. I—yes.”

“Could you find his grace or Lord Avondale and ask them to assist us, please?” The dowager sent a servant to find one of the gentlemen.

It was only when the room had quieted down and the dowager came to sit by Abigail while she drank the chocolate Bessie had brought in, that Abby got a chance to really look at the older woman.

Her mouth was drawn. Her eyes red-rimmed. And she was as pale as Abby was sure she herself was, from lack of sleep amongst other things.

And suddenly, Abby remembered.

Today was the anniversary of Lady Gina’s death.

“Your grace.” She reached out and clasped the dowager’s hand. “How are you?”

The duchess managed a brittle smile.

“It’s—difficult, my dear. But we must go on.”

The woman’s strength was admirable.

Today must be incredibly difficult, yet here she was, helping Abby.

It was humbling.

The door opened, and Abby’s heart leapt to her chest, but it was James and not Robert who stepped inside.

“And how is the invalid?” he asked jovially.

Abigail managed a small smile in response.

James stepped forward and bent to kiss the dowager on the cheek. He gripped her hand for a moment before releasing it.

“Is he well?” the dowager asked softly.

James glanced at Abigail momentarily then turned a reassuring smile on the dowager.

“I haven’t seen him,” he said regretfully.

So, he’d left. Abby’s heart twisted. Would she never learn?

“Right, cousin, let’s get you upstairs and fit to be seen.” James bent and scooped Abigail into his arms.

She was being terribly selfish, she knew, by wishing that it was Robert’s arms she was in, and not James’s.

But, she reasoned, if she didn’t say it out loud, it didn’t count.

And that was the type of flighty thought she hadn’t had in so long, that it actually made her feel better.

“It’s good to see you smiling, Abby,” James said as he deposited her onto the bed of her bedchamber. “You’re not too disappointed about postponing the trip to Town?”

“Since it’s my fault, I hardly think I’m in a position to be upset,” she quipped dryly. “But no, I’m not disappointed. I think London has lost its appeal,” she finished softly, hesitantly.

James had gone to a considerable effort to get her here. Against his will, too.

And now she was being ungrateful.

“You should want to go to London, Abby,” he chided. “You should want to meet a man who is kind and uncomplicated. Even manages a smile once in a while.”

Abby laughed softly.

But then she sobered.

“You are worried about Robert and me,” she said quietly so the servants filling the bathtub wouldn’t hear. “But you needn’t be. I—I love him, James.”

She waited for her cousin to rail against her, threaten to drag her back to New York.

But he merely offered her a sad smile.

Abby took a steadying breath.

Best to get it over with. She’d done a lot of thinking these past few days, and she knew what she wanted.

“He doesn’t love me back.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head.

“He doesn’t. And that’s—that’s fine. But—”

How to explain? How to tell him the conclusion she’d come to in the wee, small hours of the night while the man she loved was so close, yet so unattainably far from her.

“But I know that going to London and meeting a pleasant gentleman who smiles is just not something I can do.”

“Abigail, you—”

“And so,” she spoke over him, needing to get this out. “And so, as much as I am grateful to you and to her grace, and I really am, I just cannot go to Town to seek a husband. A man I know I won’t be able to love.”

James looked as though he wanted to say something, but he clenched his jaw and said nothing.

“I want so much to marry for love, James,” she said, willing him to understand. “So, if you still want to go to London, I do, too. I want to see it. I just—”

Abby took a deep breath for courage.

“I want to go home when the Season ends. I want to go back to New York.”

“You were so looking forward to finding yourself an English lord to love, Abby,” James said ruefully.

“And I found one.”

Abby’s eyes watered, but she furiously pushed her tears away.

“Unrequited love, Abby? You deserve so much more. That can’t be enough for you.”

Abigail shrugged with a nonchalance she was far from feeling.

“I guess it will have to be.”

“You look so much better, dear.”

Abigail looked up from her book as the dowager entered the library sometime later.

After Abigail had bathed and dressed, she’d been carried to the library.

It was really most inconvenient, being unable to walk.

The doctor had said she would be allowed to hobble around with a stick after a spell but for now, she must keep off her blasted foot.

So, she’d been deposited here with Bessie for company, along with books and trays of food and tea.

And she was utterly miserable.

But she pasted a smile onto her face, regardless.

It wasn’t the dowager’s fault that her son had mangled Abby’s heart.

It wasn’t even Robert’s fault.

Lord knew, he’d done nothing to make Abigail fall in love with him.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“How are you feeling?” the dowager asked, sitting beside Abby, and taking her hand.

Miserable.

“Very well, thank you. My ankle hurts a little but tis bearable. How are you feeling, your grace?” she asked gently.

“Oh, I’m—managing,” the dowager said. “I just wish I knew where Robert was. I worry so.”

Nobody seemed to know where the duke had disappeared to.

James had informed Abigail that Robert usually locked himself away in his study with too much brandy.

But he wasn’t there.

In fact, he didn’t seem to be anywhere in the house.

Abigail looked out the window at the cool, bright day.

The storm that had raged so powerfully the night before had died out, leaving a bright, if weak, sunshine in its wake.

What she wouldn’t give to be out in the fresh air picking her wildflowers.

A wave of nostalgia swept over her.

How Robert despised them. Yet he had allowed her to fill his house with the blooms.

“Perhaps he went for a ride,” she said, trying to sound reassuring when her own heart was hammering with worry.

Robert had been so miserable last night. In such an awful state.

And though he’d seemed much more in control than after he’d found her by the river, he was holding on to so much pain.

And today would be harder on him than anyone else…

The door suddenly sprang open, and Abby swung her gaze around in time to see Robert walk in.