Chapter 25

He looked…different.

But Abigail couldn’t say why, exactly.

He was handsome as ever; his jaw strong, his superfine perfectly fitted to show off the strong, broad shoulders beneath.

His eyes, she suddenly realised, studying him as he came closer.

They were lighter than she’d ever seen them.

They no longer swirled with tormented emotions.

Her heart was hammering painfully, and she could feel her cheeks heat, hoping desperately that the duchess wouldn’t notice.

“Robert, darling,” the dowager exclaimed, rising elegantly to her feet. “I’ve been so worried. Where have you been?”

“Apologies for worrying you, Mother.” He spoke to the dowager but kept his gaze fixed on Abby.

It was as unsettling as it was wonderful, and her blood seemed to tingle with heat.

“If you’ll excuse us, I’d like Abigail to join me outside.”

Abby’s already thumping heart took flight at the tender look in his gaze.

Oh, Lord. How could she do anything other than love him when he looked at her like that?

“I can’t walk,” she blurted.

“I know.” He smiled that breathtaking smile, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to walk when he looked like that, even if she had two working ankles.

Without awaiting another response, he bent down and lifted her into his arms as though she weighed no more than a feather.

His face was so close. Close enough for her to lean up and kiss him.

Which she couldn’t.

Could she?

No, of course not!

Robert raised a brow as though he knew where her improper thoughts were leading her, and her cheeks flamed in response.

“Mother.” Robert nodded to the dowager, who was watching with her jaw opened, before he turned and marched purposefully from the room.

They passed a delighted looking Bessie on their way into the foyer and a smiling James by the door.

Still, Robert didn’t stop, barely sparing a glance for the grinning marquess.

Didn’t he realise what a stir he was causing?

Once outside, Abby noticed a shiny, lacquered gig standing in wait.

Without hesitation, Robert walked toward it and placed Abigail gently onto the bench as though she were made of the finest of porcelain.

He placed a heavy blanket on her lap and a small cushion under her injured foot.

Abigail had to bite back a whimper of longing as his strong fingers grazed her ankle.

And when Robert looked up from his ministrations, his eyes were burning molten silver, with such raw desire that it took her breath away.

She was convinced he was going to kiss her senseless, just like she so desperately craved.

But he stepped back, and the spell was broken.

All the while he rounded the gig, took his seat beside her, and gripped the reins of his matching greys, Robert spoke not a word.

It was only when they’d set off at a slow trot that he turned his gaze to her once more.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Confused,” she answered swiftly, earning a soft chuckle.

“I owe you an explanation,” he acknowledged.

“Hmm. Or ten,” she quipped.

A tense silence stretched, and Abigail could no longer hold her tongue.

“You disappeared this morning,” she said, watching his face for a reaction.

He gave none.

But he did answer her.

“I didn’t think you’d want my mother and half the household walking in on us sleeping in the same room,” he said wryly. “Though technically, I didn’t sleep, I would imagine the uproar would be the same.”

“You must be exhausted,” she said guiltily.

“No,” he countered softly. “I feel more awake now than I have in years.”

Abigail frowned at the cryptic remark, but he continued before she could question him.

“I had the opportunity to think a lot last night,” he said. “Something I haven’t allowed myself to do—well, ever. And I’ve come to some conclusions.”

He stopped talking, and Abby wanted to wring his neck and tell him to spit it out.

“Such as?” she prompted impatiently.

“You know, I’m never going to forgive myself for last night.” He said it so quietly that Abigail had to strain to hear him.

“Hurting you. Shouting at you. It makes me sick every time I think of it.” He laughed briefly, but there was no humour in the sound. “And I can’t stop bloody thinking about it.”

“It’s—”

“Don’t tell me it’s fine, Abigail. I beg you.”

She clamped her mouth shut.

Suddenly, Robert brought the gig to a halt, and Abigail realised with a start that he’d driven them to the river.

The water was still high and rapid from the storm the night before, and Abigail shuddered inwardly when she remembered how close she’d been to falling in.

But…

This was the river that Robert’s sister had drowned in. This was the place he would never, ever come. The place that her actions had forced him to come to last night.

Yet, he was here today voluntarily.

Robert jumped lightly from the carriage and walked around to Abby’s side.

Reaching up, he plucked her easily from her seat and slowly lowered her to the ground.

When she was resting on her good foot, leaning against him for support, she looked up at him to see him gazing at her more tenderly than ever before.

Her heart melted, and her knees weakened.

There was definitely something different about him now. And her heart couldn’t help but surge with hope.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” he said gravely. “More sorry than I can ever say, for so many things.”

Abby felt her eyes fill with tears.

“For causing you to have been injured. For causing you to run into a bloody storm.”

His mouth twisted in remembered pain.

“I can’t begin to explain the fear I felt last night when I realised you weren’t in the house. I died a hundred times over before I found you.”

“I’m the one that chose to run into a storm,” she reminded him, hating that he was carrying such a burden. Loving that he cared so much.

“Because of my actions,” he countered swiftly. “Because I’m the monster who sent you running.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted.

Robert lifted a hand to her face, rubbing his thumb along her cheek.

“You are so courageous, sweetheart. So forgiving.”

Abby’s mouth dried, and she licked her lips, thrilling at the darkening of his eyes as they concentrated on the action.

“So beautiful,” he groaned.

He bent and captured her lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

Abigail sighed, and the second she did, Robert plunged his tongue inside her mouth.

And just like that, the kiss changed.

It was as though a match had been lit and they went up in flames.

Robert pulled Abigail closer still until her body was pressed against the hardness of his own.

Right before Abigail lost all sense of reason, however, Robert pulled his mouth from hers, dragging a hand through his hair.

“God, what you do to me,” he groaned. “That’s not what I want.”

Abigail blinked as a wave of hurt doused the flame of desire.

It must have shown in her face, too, for Robert muffled an oath and took hold of her shoulders.

“I’m making a mess of this,” he said. “Of course, it’s what I want. I’ve wanted little else since the day I met you.”

Abigail felt a thrill of excitement at his words. He was wreaking havoc on her emotions—from despair to desire and back again.

“But I don’t deserve you, Abby. Not the way I am. Not being the monster I’ve become.”

“Robert—”

“No,” he interrupted gently. “Please, let me finish. I have so much I want to say.”

Abby nodded her consent. Much as she wanted to throw herself back into his arms, she knew how difficult it must be for Robert to be here. And if he wanted to talk, to finally let her in, then she wasn’t going to stop him.

Without warning, Robert lifted Abby from her feet and walked a short distance to a nearby tree, placing her gently down to lean against it.

“Wait here,” he instructed as he removed his hands from her.

He reached into the gig and pulled out a picnic basket that Abby hadn’t noticed.

She stood watching in amazement as he made his way to the riverbank and proceeded to lay out blanket on top of blanket.

Finally, he came back to her and once again scooped her into his arms.

Abby immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing happily, and smiled up at him.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll get nothing said,” he warned gruffly, and Abby’s stomach flipped.

Shaking his head slightly, as if to clear it, Robert carried her the short distance to the blankets, where he set her down before taking a seat beside her.

“The ground is still wet,” he explained. “I hope there are enough blankets to keep you dry.”

“It’s fine,” she said, touched that he was being so considerate.

“I hardly know where to start,” he began with a wry smile. “It’s a first for me, talking in any real way to anyone.”

He glanced over at her, and she noticed that his eyes were once again the colour of storm clouds.

“But then, I’ve never had anyone I wanted to open up for,” he said softly, and Abigail had to give herself a stern talking to so she wouldn’t throw herself at him.

“I need to start by apologising. Not just for last night but for so much of my behaviour from the time you arrived here. Truth be told, we didn’t often get visitors, and that was my fault. After—” He took a deep breath, and Abigail’s heart ached for him. This was obviously very difficult for him.

“After Gina’s death, I locked myself away as much as I could. As soon as I finished school, first Eton and then Oxford, I came straight home and hid away as much as possible.”

He was quiet for a moment, but Abigail didn’t try to fill the silence, as was her wont.

He needed to get this out, and she desperately needed to understand him more.

“You heard about Gina’s death?” he asked, turning back to her briefly before moving his gaze once more to the river.

“I did,” she whispered. “Some of it—your mother told me she—that she drowned?”

Robert stiffened visibly, and Abigail reached out and grasped his hand, unable to help herself in the face of his despair.

Instead of pushing her away, Robert turned his palm so he could lace his fingers with her own.

He studied their entwined hands as he spoke.

“Gina was the most impulsive child I’d ever known, apart from my friends and I,” he smiled swiftly.

“The day she died—there’d been a storm the night before, not unlike last night, and the river was dangerous. She insisted on coming after my friends and I as we set out exploring.” He paused. “I should have sent her back.”

Abigail wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That nothing he’d done had caused his sister to die.

But she remained quiet.

“She climbed that tree,” he nodded toward the willow that Abby herself had sat at last night, before slipping. “I told her to come down but—”

He swallowed hard.

“The branch snapped. She fell in. And I—I froze. Only for a moment, but it was long enough for her to go under.”

Abby’s tears fell freely. For the poor little girl, for the man beside her who never should have had to witness something like that.

“I went in after her. I even managed to hold onto her. But she slipped away. I couldn’t—I couldn’t get her back. I tried. But my friends pulled me out. I let them pull me out. And then—she was gone.”

Abigail dashed her tears away impatiently. She tightened her grip on Robert’s larger hand, wishing his pain away.

“If I’d sent her back. If I hadn’t hesitated. If I hadn’t been so selfish as to let them pull me from the water, Gina would be here now.”

“Oh, Robert.”

But he wasn’t finished. It was as though a dam inside him had burst, and the words were pouring from him.

“She’d probably be married. My mother might have even been a grandmother.”

He heaved a sigh and shook his head sadly.

“She died because of me. And my father took the news so badly that he drank himself into an early grave only seven years later.”

Suddenly, he jumped up from beside her and began to pace back and forth, the words tumbling from his mouth.

“After my father died and I became the duke, the guilt became too much. Living became too much. I couldn’t stand to see people happily living their lives around me. I couldn’t stand the ghost that my mother had become, knowing that she’d become that because I had been responsible for taking away her daughter and her husband.”

No! How could he be carrying such awful, misplaced guilt around with him? It tore Abby’s heart out.

“So, I locked myself away. Got the reputation of a monster—cruel, gruff, uncaring, and unfeeling. And I relished it. After all, nobody would ever try to get close to a monster.”

He stopped pacing and swung to face her, a riot of emotions stamped across his face. Then, his face cleared, and his eyes grew tender.

“Until you.”