However there was something...intriguing...about Miss Northrup that would not allow him to do so. Hell and blazes, anyway.
In turn, Abigail snorted and Adam felt something zing in the general vicinity of his stomach as she spoke again, this time her lips issuing yet another chastisement. "In a very imperious and public manner, of course. If you were truly sorry, your grace, you would not have even dared to approach me at breakfast where any number of people might remark upon the encounter. That is what I was speaking of regarding protecting my reputation moments ago! Not the kiss!"
Daft man. No wonder his reputation was in shreds if he constantly behaved in such a high-handed manner! Was it little wonder she did not wish to shackle herself to a titled gentleman? She would likely end up with one just as tempestuous as the duke standing before her!
Except that Abigail also knew that she was partly to blame for their current argument. Everything had been settled. She should have just walked away. Except that when he had apologized for the kiss and not for ordering her about, something had twisted and rankled inside of her. In response, she had lashed out, as she often did. And, just like so many times before, she now regretted it. Because her words had hurt him. She could see it in his eyes. He would not admit to such a thing, of course, but she could still see the pain shimmering just below the surface. She hadn't meant to do that. Abigail knew all too well what it was like to be hurt by cruel words. She'd heard them often enough, flung in her direction for not being the daughter of a peer. Among other things.
"I had no idea how in the hell else to go about seeking you out, my lady! It's not as if I am very good at this sort of thing! It's not as if I wake up every morning sprawled on my friend's front lawn under the watchful eye of a goddess!" Adam was truly annoyed now, for this was not going at all as he had planned. In fact, he had imagined a very proper and sedate conversation between the two of them, one where he would apologize, she would accept, and they would both go about their business. Then again, Miss Abigail Northrup was not exactly like any other female he had met.
And he was now very sorry that he had just referred to her as a goddess. Though he was not about to apologize for it.
For some strange reason, being in her very presence also seemed to scramble his brain and he said things that he immediately regretted. Like referring to her as a goddess just now for instance. Yes, he did very much regret that. Especially when she went all pale and her mouth snapped shut with an audible click as she had just done.
"A goddess? Me?" Abigail was incredulous now. Or she wanted to be. Except that no one had ever referred to her as a goddess before, and she rather liked it. She also didn't think that the duke had misspoken. He truly meant what he had just said, and those words made something inside of her pause for a moment, wondering what it would be like to know a man who truly did view her as a goddess. She didn't think any such man existed, but perhaps she was wrong. It would not have been the first time. "I hardly think so, your grace. Now you are merely toying with me."
"Are you blind?" he asked, leaning towards her and placing his hands on his hips in a rather confrontational fashion - even though she didn't feel the least bit of fear. Instead, she felt rather invigorated. "Or did that pack of hedgehogs scramble your wits? Do you truly not know you are far lovelier than any woman I have encountered at this blasted house party thus far?" Not that he had encountered many woman, as they were all tending to avoid him so far.
Abigail couldn't help herself. She laughed. "It was only one hedgehog, your grace." Then, inexplicably, the quiet snicker became a slightly louder laugh. And soon, she found that she was laughing so hard that tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. And the duke's as well. Because he was laughing too, much to her amazement.
Finally, the duke reached into his coat picket and produced a handkerchief, which he handed to her so that she might wipe her eyes. "Miss Northrup, this has been badly done of me. Even from the moment I woke up this morning, everything was badly done. I am not usually this much of a clod and for that, I do apologize. For what it is worth, I do take your meaning regarding your reputation, and while I should like to converse with you again, for you seem to be one of the few here able to tolerate my presence, I will only do so at your invitation."
"I think this entire situation has been badly done by both of us," she confessed. "I have acted little better than a harpy myself." Had Charlotte not gotten her all worked up with words of warning over the duke, Abigail likely would have arrived at the orangery in a better frame of mind. "I should apologize as well. I have behaved rather badly when you were merely attempting to ease any strain that might be between us, just as a gentleman should. And, ah, I did allow you to kiss me. I am not normally so wanton. I blame the excessive heat and beg your forgiveness for my poor behavior. I am not that sort of woman at all. Especially as I just lectured you on protecting my reputation."
"Just so." Adam nodded, thankful that whatever odd moment had just transpired between them seemed to break the tension that had been in the air. "And I am sorry. Not for kissing you, because you are very lovely despite what you might otherwise believe, and I did rather enjoy it." The proper gentleman in him knew he should apologize for that as well, but he did not think this woman would welcome it. "But I wanted to apologize for placing you in a bad situation. You did not have to remain with me this morning and risk your reputation. In that, you are correct, and I truly am sorry."
This time when Abigail smiled, it was with warmth. "Apology accepted and I offer my own as well, for placing you in such a situation. I am no fool, your grace, and I know what would have happened had we been discovered. I would not force you or any man into marriage. I could have, and perhaps should have, left once I determined that you were well. "
"And as for the kiss?" She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes twinkled as he spoke.
"It was a kiss, your grace. It was not a declaration of love. And I think that we are both of an age to know when a kiss is merely a kiss and not a portent of something more." Even though it had made Abigail's toes tingle in a way they never had before.
Adam offered her a slight bow. "You are not only beautiful, but intelligent as well."
Before she could think, Abigail swatted playfully at his arm, just as she would have done back home. For some reason, she now felt relaxed with this man, despite his lofty social status. It was peculiar, and yet delightful at the same time. "You tease, your grace, but I thank you for the compliment."
As the duke grinned down at her, Abigail felt something flutter in her chest, but she did her best to ignore the sensation. It was that she was simply unaccustomed to being around strong, virile, attractive men like the duke. That was all. There was nothing more to the feeling than that.
It was certainly not because she was attracted to him or any such nonsense.
"So we are in agreement now, then?" Adam asked as he reached out to take her hand in a gentle squeeze before releasing it. Silently Abigail cursed herself for not pulling away the moment he had touched her, but since she hoped they could be friends after this, it would have seemed rude to do so. Even if it was not proper. "And we can move on from here? Perhaps even converse again politely when we meet during the house party? Strictly in the company of others, of course."
"I would like that, your grace." Strangely, Abigail found that she did want to be friends with this man, though she had no idea why. Charlotte's words of warning rang through her mind again, but they seemed so unlike this charming man standing before her. Yes, he had behaved poorly, but then so had she. "I do not have many friends."
He raised an eyebrow, but true to his gentlemanly nature, did not make any sort of cutting remark against her. "As it happens, my lady, neither do I at the moment."
Abigail knew she should make some sort of cunning quip, or at least if she was a true and proper lady of the ton she would. But she was not that sort of female and she had the distinct impression that the duke did not favor that sort of simpering woman. He might b
e accustomed to having things his own way but he also did not seem to enjoy the sort of fawning that most women of society indulged in - especially where dukes were concerned.
"Well, you have at least one in me," she finally offered, knowing that it was not at all the sort of reply a sophisticated and worldly woman of society would offer him. But she meant it. Every word.
A silence settled between them then, and Abigail longed to fill it with words of some sort. After all, that was how she handled every situation where she did not quite know how to behave. It was better to talk than to make a social misstep that might irreparably damage her reputation.
The duke bowed to her. "Until later then, my lady? For now that we are friends, I do not think that I can avoid you for the rest of the house party. Especially as you are likely one of the few people here who will deign to speak with me. Though I promise you that I will not bring potential scandal to your doorstep again."
From the way the man was perspiring, it was clear to Abigail that the duke was just as uncomfortable as she was. Or perhaps he was simply hot. Either way, for someone so high in the instep as the Duke of Hathaway was reported to be, she was a bit surprised that he could feel uncomfortable as well. Or that he was willing to admit it, especially in front of someone like her. It made him seem just a touch more human and for some reason, she found that rather endearing.
"I look forward to it, Lord Hathaway. And when next we meet, I would suggest that we bit a bit more proper with each other. A little distance between us might be a good thing." Because Abigail was afraid that if she didn't insist upon that distance, she would slip up and do something utterly foolish again. Like kiss him. Uncertain now, she bit her lip, a little worried about what his response was to be. She needn't have.
Instead, he gave her another stiff bow and a sharp nod. "I agree, my lady. It would not do to cause another scandal or make another scene. We shall be polite but distant, as you seem to suggest is best." Even if the expression on his face said that he didn't really want to keep his distance from her - which confused Abigail greatly.
Actually, that wasn't really what Abigail had meant at all, but that was how the duke had interpreted her words. And really, perhaps that was for the best. For both of them. "Agreed. Until later, then." She offered him a brief curtsey and then he was gone, all but running out of the orangery as fast as his legs could carry him.
That was the last thing she had expected. In fact, Abigail had just been thinking about how best to extricate herself from the situation without looking more a fool than she likely already did. However the duke had taken the matter in hand and made the decision for her. It was, of course, a very gallant thing to do, but it also made her a bit sad at the same time.
Despite everything, she had enjoyed speaking and sparring with him. In fact, she had felt invigorated in a way that she typically did not at Society functions. Even though she risked her very reputation by being alone in his company, there had been a part of her that hadn't wanted him to depart so quickly. If anything, she would have liked to remain and conversed with him, however improper it might be.
Lord Hathaway was intelligent and charming and, despite whatever rumors were currently being spread about him, he didn't seem the bad sort. He simply seemed...awkward at times. That was probably the best way to describe it. As if, even after all this time, he still wasn't quite certain how to be a duke. Or how to behave like one. Especially where women were concerned.
The other guests here would have likely chastised him for his decidedly less-than-graceful apology. They also would have gone into coniptions if any of them ever found out about her and Hathaway's not just one, but two clandestine meetings alone. And as for the kiss? Abigail suspected that if anyone in Society knew about it, the event would have all but brought an end to her time here at Fairhaven. She also likely would have been forced to apologize for attempting to ensnare a duke into marriage, given her lowly social status.
Well, Abigail was not about to apologize for something they had both enjoyed. No longer was the duke, much to her relief.
It was, she decided, just another reason why she would never fit in with the rest of the ton. She wasn't like them. She found their rules silly and old-fashioned. Had she not grown up on board several of her father's ships, she might have felt differently but she was accustomed to conversing freely with men. She didn't find the opposite sex the utterly mystifying creatures that most women of her acquaintance did. They were, in the end, human. Just like her. They weren't some mysterious beings from another place.
Well, perhaps the duke was mysterious, Abigail admitted to herself, though that was simply because he was vastly different from the other men of the peerage that she knew. Whatever faults he had, taking himself too seriously was not among them. He didn't seem to want the deference that most men in his position all but demanded and he did also seem to genuinely care about his sister.
Most men Abigail knew, even ones back in Plymouth, would simply allow their sisters to blunder into a potentially disastrous marriage with a man who would bankrupt them both in time. They cared for their sisters, certainly, but they would never fly in the face of convention, especially when faced with an all-but-signed marriage contract. And Abigail knew that such a contract existed between Selby and Lady Sophia, for Charlotte had said as much. The fact that Hathaway would go to such lengths to protect his sister, despite what it would cost him socially was a mark in his favor, at least in Abigail's book.
Not that she should be thinking of him in that manner. In fact, she shouldn't be thinking of him at all. They had declared a tentative friendship and that should be that. Even if they hadn't? Well, she was hardly in the same social sphere as the duke, and she had no business believing otherwise.
Except that, despite everything, he was easy to talk to, at least on most occasions. And he had kissed her. More than that, she had liked the kiss.
It wasn't her first kiss, certainly. She was six and twenty, after all. But it had been her first real kiss. She didn't count the sloppy peck on the lips that Reverend Fulton's son, Benjamin, had graced her with when they were both twelve and it had been Christmas Eve and he had been foxed from sneaking too much punch. Or the disgusting, kipper and egg scented smooch that the repulsive Baron Rockville had attempted to grace her with at Lady Winterset's Springtime Ball.
Abigail had been kissed before by a man she thought she fancied, albeit just once. However, Lord Hunt, nice as he was, hadn't inspired any passion within her during their brief garden interlude the previous summer. The kiss had been...pleasant. But not much more. Abigail also had the impression that she had not done much for Lord Hunt either. After all, he was extremely impoverished and in dire need of a very wealthy heiress. If she had felt even the tiniest fraction of attraction to the gentleman, she might well have wed him, for he wasn't precisely a fortune hunter. He was also nice and charming and polite, as well as unlikely to beggar them any time soon. Oh, and handsome, too. Best not to forget that. In fact, Lord Hunt was just about everything Abigail could have wished for in a husband.
However even after that kiss, she had felt nothing stir within her breast. She hadn't felt even the tiniest spark of attraction. And clearly, neither had he.
When Abigail had left home for her Seasons in London, she had vowed that, after having waited so long to find love, she would not wed without love. So the fact that Lord Hunt, who was certainly delightfully handsome and altogether too attractive, failed to move her in any way was something of a disappointment. As were her flirtations with all of the men she had encountered during her several seasons on the Marriage Mart.
But Lord Hathaway's kiss? Well that was another matter entirely.
Because that kiss, Abigail had felt all the way to the tips of her toes and beyond. It had made her heart sing and her breath come in short gasps. Her head had spun wildly and she had, for the first time in her life, felt faint. It had been magical. Which was why she could not bring herself to regret it. And why she was thankful
that Lord Hathaway did not truly regret it either.
She also wondered how she could possibly get it to happen again - without risking her virtue or her reputation. Especially since the duke had suggested they keep their distance from each other. She wasn't certain there was a way, but if there was, she would find it before this house party ended - and she fled to Wales to being her spinsterhood.
Or she could choose the wiser course and simply avoid the man entirely. Except that Abigail did not really wish to do so - despite the fact that it would be the far wiser course of action.
Chapter Four
From the corner of one of Fairhaven's numerous sitting rooms, Adam sat in the rapidly fading daylight and watched the door, praying that no silly chit would discover his hiding place and pester him about dancing or some other such nonsense. One would think that having such a disastrous reputation as his would be a deterrent for the unwed young misses of the ton, but instead, it seemed to attract them like bees to honey.
Hell and blazes, anyway.
Earlier at dinner, Rayne, otherwise known as Lord Raynecourt - who had shown up at the house party rather unexpectedly that afternoon with Bow Street Runner Harry Greer accompanying him - had reminded Adam that most young women of good breeding lusted after dukes, no matter their reputation. Or how foolish they often were. It had been Harry who had added that, in his experience anyway, it was also the case that most young women believed they could "fix" the rogues of Society with enough smothering and temper tantrums. At this point in the evening, Adam was inclined to agree with both of those assessments.
After his awkward and somewhat disastrous encounter with Miss Northrup in Enwright's orangery earlier that day, Adam had decided to make himself scarce before he made yet another social blunder. His mind was a muddled mess, and clearly he still could not be trusted to behave like a proper duke should. And until he could control both his behavior and his tongue, he thought it best to remain away from the others, lest he make another near-disastrous mistake. Or find himself leg-shackled, if some of the young misses in attendance had anything to say about the matter.
The Kiss of a Rogue Page 6
