Miss Stedman stood behind them, apparently unaware of her mother’s tantalizing chatter, as she stared, unsurprisingly, in Gavin’s direction.
Abigail’s lips pulled into a deep frown. Had the girl no decency? Yes, Mrs. Stedman encouraged her daughter’s behavior, but that in no way excused Miss Stedman’s own shameful actions. And Abigail had a mind to do something about it.
However, as Miss Stedman—who had yet to become aware of Abigail watching her—continued to stare at Gavin, sadness flitted in her eyes, and a look of sorrow flashed on her brow.
Abigail paused. What had the girl to be sad about? The fact that Gavin was already married, or that she knew she erred in wanting to lead him astray?
Before Abigail could decipher the young woman’s thoughts, her view was broken by the couples dancing down the set. By the time they skipped past, Miss Stedman had disappeared.
The lilting sound of Gertrude’s laughter brought Abigail’s attention back to the group. She faced forward to see the woman’s lively eyes as she shared one story after another, the group completely captivated.
“Her headache certainly seems to have dissipated,” Gavin said, leaning down toward Abigail and whispering in her ear.
His breath fluttered the soft curls near her neck, sending chills along her arms. Thank goodness the gloves covered most of them.
“Yes, she seems much recovered,” Abigail returned. “If she even had a headache to begin with.”
Gavin chuckled. The deep, rich sound was music to her ears.
Abigail glanced to Lionel, who watched his wife with clear admiration in his eyes. They certainly did love each other. She thought again of their impending departure and recalled Gavin’s apathetic words from earlier.
“Are you truly not upset with their leaving, Gavin?” she asked quietly.
He leaned toward her again. “Of course, I will be sorry to see them go, but I am as ready as you are to have our home to ourselves again.”
Abigail’s spirits soared. She still needed to take care, but knowing Gavin was not utterly distraught eased her guilty conscience.
“I certainly took for granted being able to walk through the circular room without stepping on a footman’s hand,” Gavin continued, “or head.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Did that truly happen?”
“I cannot say for certain, but I did see a strange, boot-shaped mark on the footman’s brow this morning.”
They snickered together at the image his words had produced.
“Captain?”
They stifled their laughter and turned to Mr. Rennalls, who had spoken to Gavin.
Abigail was surprised to discover that the group around them had dwindled. Gertrude stood off to the side, in conversation with the Summerfields, and all who remained next to Gavin and Abigail were Mr. Rennalls and Lionel.
“Care to try your luck at a bit of cards?” Mr. Rennalls asked.
The gentlemen looked to the card room.
“Thank you,” Gavin responded, “but not this evening.”
Abigail knew Gavin refused the offer to be considerate of her own feelings. He must remember her uncle’s foolishness as much as she did. Though she appreciated the sentiment, she had no right to control his life. If he wished to play, then he should be allowed to.
Besides, she knew most men enjoyed gaming, but not all of them became obsessive as her uncle had.
“I will be all right if you go,” she said softly, motioning to the room.
“No, I’d rather not.”
“Come now, sir,” Mr. Rennalls pressed. “Surely you aren’t afraid of losing to a physician?”
Gavin merely smiled in response.
“I must warn you, sir,” Lionel said, “you waste your time with my brother. He has never been one to play at cards.”
Mr. Rennalls narrowed his eyes. “Is that true, Captain?”
“I never saw the appeal of risking something I’d worked hard for,” Gavin replied.
Lionel and Mr. Rennalls struck up a conversation of their own, but Abigail stared up at Gavin. He had never liked to game? She could hardly believe it. Every gentleman she had ever known—including her own uncle and father—enjoyed gaming. And yet, Gavin did not.
Just one more reason to add to her ever-growing list of why she was so grateful he was her husband.
A smooth voice spoke up behind her and shrouded her joy in a dark, thick cloud. “For one who does not like taking risks, he certainly took one on his wife.”
Gavin’s muscles tensed beneath her hand. Abigail eyed his furrowed brow, the rage sparking in his eyes, and she knew at once that he’d heard Mrs. Stedman’s words as clearly as she had.
He made to turn, and Abigail knew what he intended. Her heart soared. How many years had she longed to be protected in such a way—to be taken care of, defended? She could only imagine the things he would say. Mrs. Stedman was sure to never bother with them again. And Miss Stedman would finally cease her flirtatious stares. Finally, Abigail had the help she needed. Finally, she would be safe.
Yet, as Gavin moved, she reached out her hand to prevent him. He shot her a puzzled look, but she gave a subtle shake of her head and looked over her shoulder herself.
The Stedmans stood a mere arm’s length away. Abigail noticed Miss Stedman first, staring at her mother with a crinkled brow. The young woman sent a fleeting, guilt-ridden glance in Abigail’s direction before leaving her mother’s side and disappearing from the room.
Mrs. Stedman watched her daughter depart before facing Abigail with innocent eyes.
Now was Abigail’s chance. Gavin had heard the snake’s tongue, but she had prevented him from speaking. Because this was her fight. And knowing she had Gavin’s support gave her the courage she needed to go on.
She opened her mouth, ready to release years of pent-up frustrations over the woman’s behavior. Abigail would tell her what she truly thought of her, how Uncle Ellis would have never married a woman so despicable. And she would finally have the revenge she deserved.
She made to release her hold of Gavin’s arm before she realized…she was holding Gavin’s arm. What did it matter what Mrs. Stedman said? Abigail knew there was nothing she could say to change the woman’s opinion of her. Mrs. Stedman could very well remain bitter until the day she died, merely because Uncle Ellis did not choose her.
She paused. Uncle Ellis had not chosen Mrs. Stedman, and it had caused the woman misery for years. And Uncle Ellis…he had not chosen Abigail either.
She knew all too well the pain of rejection, of not feeling good enough for someone she loved. But she could not allow her own hurt and betrayal to make her caustic and cruel, like it had Mrs. Stedman.
Abigail needed to forgive. She needed to allow herself to heal from Mrs. Stedman’s actions, and her uncle’s. For she had something else—someone else—to live for.
She looked up at Gavin, his brown eyes still studying her, and she squared her shoulders. She would no longer be controlled by another’s darkness. She would choose light. And she would choose Gavin.
With a fleeting look in Mrs. Stedman’s direction, she turned away. “She is not worth any more of my time,” she whispered.
And the heavy burden upon her shoulders began to lighten at the pleased look Gavin shared with her.
The rest of the evening passed by swiftly. The Stedmans kept very much away from them both, though Abigail saw Miss Stedman’s focus occasionally dart away from her as she danced down the set.
Gertrude remained the center of attention for most of the night. Many gentlemen vied for her hand, but she eventually chose to sit out the dances, as well, her headache having returned.
Abigail had found herself enjoying the excitement around her, partaking in laughter and good-natured conversation, but as midnight arrived, she was quite relieved to wait for their coach as it pulled up in front of the inn.
Gavin offered his hand to help her into the carriage, but as she reached for her skirts, she noticed the absence of
her fan.
“I believe I left it near the refreshment table,” she said with an apologetic look. “I can retrieve it quickly.”
“No, allow me to fetch it for you,” Gavin said, helping her into the coach with a soft squeeze to her fingers. “I’ll be but a moment.”
And as Abigail peered out of the coach’s window, watching Gavin walk away with his broad shoulders and powerful stride she wondered what she had done to deserve such a man in her life.
Gavin eyed the refreshment table, spotting Abigail’s fan in an instant. He weaved through the people still drinking and chatting away before retrieving it and turning on his heel, intent on returning to the carriage as quickly as possible.
However, as he turned, he came face-to-face with Mrs. Stedman, who smiled up at him with a look of innocence. He clutched Abigail’s fan in his fist.
How Mrs. Stedman even dared to look at him was beyond him. He had clearly heard her words about his wife. Did she think for one moment he would pretend it did not happen?
“Captain,” she said, “so you did not leave after all. Have you returned to dance with my lovely daughter?”
He cringed to think of how daft he had been before, to have completely missed her true intentions concerning her daughter and himself. Well, he would not be so foolish now.
“She is a true lady, my daughter,” Mrs. Stedman continued. “Some women may attempt to match her by changing gowns and hairstyles, but no amount of primping can compare to her natural beauty. It is no wonder you admire her.”
His gaze turned sharply to the woman. Anger caused his breath to catch. Abigail may have been noble enough to have turned the other cheek, but he could no longer allow Mrs. Stedman’s shameful behavior to continue.
He faced her squarely and spoke in a firm tone. “You are mistaken, ma’am, if you think I could ever admire your daughter above my own wife. That is not, and never shall, be the truth.”
Mrs. Stedman’s eyes rounded, her face aflame as he pressed on.
“Furthermore, I must clarify that I shall never grow weary of her. Nor shall I seek companionship with anyone other than her. Ever.”
Her eyes darted around her, as if to ensure no one else heard their words. “Of course, sir. I would never dream of suggesting otherwise.”
“I should hope not.” He stared at her pointedly. “Now, if you will excuse me. My wife is waiting for me.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
She was gone before Gavin moved a single step. Satisfaction overcame him to have seen her flustered state. Finally, they were to be rid of the woman.
He drew in a deep, calming breath then moved past smiling couples and stifled yawns, anxious to be once again at his wife’s side.
When they reached the lighthouse, Gertrude went straight to bed while Gavin and Lionel convened in the sitting room. Abigail rang the large bell in the circular room—apologizing for the servants she’d awoken and waited for Lieutenant Harris to descend the stairs.
“Did you have an enjoyable evening, ma’am?” he asked as he reached her side.
She thought back to her releasing Mrs. Stedman’s hold over her, to Gavin’s attentiveness throughout the night, and her cheeks glowed. “Very enjoyable, thank you. How fares Golowduyn?”
“It is well, ma’am. Everything is in order. No cats in the henhouse. No destruction to the lighthouse.”
She released a sigh. “Perhaps the boy has moved on, then,” she said.
“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma’am.”
When Lieutenant Harris had left, Abigail brought in a tray of tea for Gavin and Lionel, then excused herself to retire, as well.
After managing to unfasten the buttons of her gown and wiggle her way out of the rest of it, Abigail donned her nightdress and slipped into bed. But the moment her head hit the pillow, she recalled the oil hutch.
Lieutenant Harris would have remembered to secure the lock after refilling the lamps, she was sure. And yet, the thought refused to pass.
With a groan, she threw back her covers and left her room. When she heard voices coming from the sitting room, however, she paused, staring down at her nightdress. She could hardly walk by the gentlemen wearing so little, no matter how quickly she darted past the doorway.
She stifled a sigh and made to return to her room, but when she heard her name spoken in Gavin’s deep voice, she held her breath and leaned close to the doorway to better hear the brothers’ words.
Chapter Thirteen
“Truthfully, you lasted longer at Golowduyn than I anticipated,” Gavin said, smiling at Lionel as he sat across from him in the sitting room. “Though, Abigail believed you would remain the full two weeks.”
“Well, at least I have the confidence of your wife,” Lionel said with a laugh. “I was fully intending on remaining, I assure you. We truly are leaving due to Gertrude’s headache, but we were taken aback by the size of the lighthouse.”
“Surely not. I explained very clearly what space was available.”
Lionel waved his hand. “Yes, yes, I know. I told Gertrude what to expect, but change is difficult for her.”
“And for you.” Gavin quirked a brow and leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands together at his waist. “As short as your visit was, though, I am glad you could be here to meet Abigail.”
At the thought of his wife, Gavin recalled the evening he’d shared with her. He had wanted to kiss her while she wore that dress. He had wanted to express his love to her. But he had quickly realized that doing so in a more intimate location—not a teeming assembly—would be far better for them both.
After all, they were already married. Why could they not speak with more privacy, somewhere without interruption? He wished to do so somewhere that he could finally kiss her, reveal his feelings for her. And pray that she might now feel the same.
“I wish I could have come to your wedding.”
Lionel’s words ended Gavin’s thoughts. He looked to his brother’s unreadable expression. “I wished for you to attend, as well. But you understand, time did not permit.”
Lionel opened and closed his mouth before sighing. “Gavin, forgive me. You seem very happy with your wife, but I must ask…did you marry her for love?”
Gavin propped his elbow on the armrest of the chair, resting his head against it with a finger to his temple. He knew the question would come at some point during their visit. He had rehearsed his answer, as well, to avoid any judgment his family might cast upon Abigail. But at Lionel’s deciphering eyes, Gavin knew he could not get away with a lie.
Biting his lower lip, he shook his head. “That is not what spurred the marriage on in the beginning, no.”
Lionel’s shoulders fell, and he tilted his head to the side with disappointment. “Then why on earth did you do it, Gavin? You have only now submitted your request to retire. You had your whole life before you, and certainly your choice of women. I mean no disrespect to your lovely wife, of course. She is attractive and amiable. But…did you have no desire to marry for love at all?”
“Of course I did,” Gavin responded. “I long for love in a marriage as much as any man.”
“Then why did you do it?”
Gavin leaned forward, gathering his thoughts before proceeding. “When Abigail’s uncle passed away, he left behind a considerable debt, one that would force her from Golowduyn. I offered my hand in marriage so I could pay the debt and allow her to stay at her home.”
Lionel stared, dumbfounded. “You gave up your future, your prospects, your home in Gloucestershire, to live out the remainder of your days in a lighthouse with a woman you did not know long enough to even trust?”
“Of course not,” Gavin nearly growled. “I forfeited a barren life and an uncertain future for a home in a place I love, near the sea I love—with a woman more than deserving of a secure and happy life.”
“But what of your own happiness?”
“You have seen for yourself that I am happy here.”
Lionel looked away. “Ver
y well, but will it last? How could you ever be certain when you behaved so rashly?”
Gavin stared into the fire with a shake of his head. “I do not behave rashly, Lionel. I rely upon my instinct. An instinct that I believe is God-given. I felt it when joining the navy, which I have never once regretted, and it helped me survive countless storms and battles at sea. My decision to retire was made in the same regard.” He paused with a sigh. “I was lost at sea. Not physically, but…mentally. I knew not what my future held, nor what I wished to do with the rest of my life.”
He looked then to his brother. “But when I saw Golowduyn shining above me, when Abigail pulled me from the sea, I felt a pull to her, as if I finally knew where to go. And I am certain you may venture a guess as to what other decision I have made based on my instinct.”
A small smile curved across Lionel’s lips. “Marrying Abigail?”
“Marrying Abigail,” Gavin repeated. “After she rescued me, I could not keep away. I saw her love for Cornwall, for Golowduyn. I soon grew to love the same things, and I knew I could not live with myself if I did not help her. And now I realize that I could not live a happy life without her by my side.”
Abigail blinked back her tears as she tiptoed back to her room. Lying in her bed, the oil hutch completely forgotten, she stared at the ceiling with a full heart.
Being at the assembly that evening had made her feel free. Living near the sea, safely beneath Golowduyn’s light, made her feel alive. And Gavin…Gavin made her feel loved.
With her worrying and wonderings set aside, she could finally admit the words to herself. She loved the captain, with a love that ran deep. A love that filled every part of her body and her soul.
And how she longed to share it with him.
Before long, she heard him coming down the hallway. She closed her eyes as the door opened and shut. His shoes softly slid across the wooden floor as he walked toward his cot.
In the dim light of the dying fire, she peered at him through her eyelashes. Her heart fluttered when she saw his eyes upon her. He removed his cravat and jacket, dropping them onto his dresser before turning around to remove his shirt.
Behind the Light of Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1) Page 24
