"You truly mean that, don't you?" Adam asked quietly as he shifted towards her and took her other hand in his.
A part of Abigail was gripped by a tinge of fear, but she couldn't have run even if she had wanted to. This man held her enthralled and had from the first moment she had seen him. "I do," she confessed just as softly. "You are not a bad man, Adam. Merely a misunderstood one."
He nodded. "Then, to that end, I pray that you do not misunderstand me when I do this. For I truly do mean it."
Abigail knew he meant to kiss her and she anticipated it down to her very toes. In fact, she ached for it. She had since that first kiss a few mornings ago. But this kiss was different. It was more hesitant and less fevered, his lips brushing softly over hers several times as if testing her desire for him. He need not have worried, for each time she was near him, her body all but ached for his. It might have made her a shameless wanton, but she could no more stop how she felt than she could command the tides to cease their rising and falling back in Plymouth.
"I mean it as well," she whispered just before he tilted his head to claim her lips more fully. When he bent her backwards slightly, she reached out and grabbed onto the lapels of his frock coat to steady herself, afraid she might fall into a swoon.
She need not have worried either. For Adam kissed like a master and held on to her as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him. His lips were soft and yet masterful over hers while he held her so gently that she melted in to his embrace. And when his tongue traced the seam of her lips and begged for entrance, she did not hesitate for a moment, but instead opened to him as if her very life depended upon his kiss. And when he reached down to gently cup her breast, Abigail gave herself up to the desires coursing through her and leaned into his touch, craving more of him, heedless of how wanton that made her appear.
Chapter Nine
Town Tattler
With London all but abandoned these days, dear readers, news of any note is difficult to come by. However a little bird that arrived in Town by way of Hampshire has informed me that events at Fairhaven - Lord and Lady Enwright's late spring home - have been developing at, what is for Society anyway, a rapid pace.
Upon the Duke of Hathaway's arrival, there was the expected kerfluffle with Lord Selby over the duke's rescinding of his approval for his sister and Selby to wed. That was to be expected. What was not expected, however was for Lord Hathaway to be discovered by a young lady in Enwright's formal gardens nearly naked! Or so goes the rumor at least. Is it true? Who can say? I certainly cannot, as I was not there and my spy is not of the best reputation. However he assures me that he spotted the lord and an unknown young lady crossing back into the manor house as he was departing after making an early morning delivery. Something about an urgent letter for Lord Hunt, as I understand it.
So who is this mystery woman - if she exists at all? There are plenty of choices, I suppose. Lady Josephine Wilkins is one, of course, since she is known for her shocking lack of decorum and rather fast behavior. Another might be Lady Adelaide Munson, daughter of the Marquess of Trevorton, though I am uncertain as to how daring a lady with a rather pronounced limp might be in such a situation. The only two young ladies I am certain it is not is Lady Charlotte Cleary, the daughter of Lord Waverly, for she is said to be utterly smitten with the newly discovered Lord Francis Deaver, Viscount Underhill. And he with her.
I am also certain that it is not Miss Abigail Northrup, daughter of Mr. Henry Northrup of Plymouth. Despite the best efforts of several gentlemen to snare her in the parson's mousetrap, I understand that she is retiring to her family's summer cottage in Wales at the end of the house party, never to return to Society again. That is a shame, as she is truly one of the most virtuous women I have ever encountered, but then, perhaps that virtue is the reason why she has not allowed herself to fall silly where a male is concerned. For her sake, I wish her happy, but I would also hope that some man might convince her that there is life for her beyond that of a spinster. Especially for a lady as lovely as she.
-Madame C
The next morning once again found Abigail put to the blush, her cheeks heating every time she even thought about seeing Adam again. Foolish as it sounded, she was afraid that someone might simply look at her and know what she had done in the labyrinth the night before. That was why when Miss Cutwright had awoken and complained once again about pain in her knee and now her ankle as well, Abigail was only too happy to tell the woman to rest for at least another day or more.
With her chaperone still laid up in bed - and a doctor attending to her since the knee and ankle did not seem to be getting any better - Abigail was then free to breakfast as early as she liked before retreating to the relative safety of the music room where there were, oddly enough, plenty of large, comfortable chairs where she could hide with her book for the day.
That morning's issue of the Town Tattler had arrived rather early, brought by special courier from London since the house party was beginning to be mentioned with some regularity in the mysterious Madame C.'s daily column. Abigail had taken one glance at it and felt her heart all but fall to her feet. She was mentioned in it! Heavens, above! If Mama found out, she would be beside herself, even though nothing scandalous had been said about her only daughter. Still, the very idea would be enough to send her mother into a fit of the vapors. Especially since Abigail had been mentioned in connection with Adam - however tenuous that connection might be.
Even though the story was innocent enough, Mama would not see it that way. And if she did not, then neither would Papa. Especially since it mentioned Abigail's plans to become a spinster, something she had hoped to avoid telling her family until she was already safely ensconced in Wales.
Despite the fact that Abigail had been sent to London in hopes of snaring a husband, she had long since come to the conclusion that neither of her parents truly believed she could snare herself a peer. Nor did they believe she should. At least that was what Abigail suspected anyway.
The last few letters from Mama had contained thinly veiled references to Mr. Burleigh, a business associate of her father's. The man owned several mining ventures and some textile mills and was looking for a way to get his products to markets and refineries quickly. While he had a fairly good working relationship with her father, Burleigh had made it clear over the years that he would be amenable to better terms - if only Mr. Northrup had something more to sweeten the pot. Namely the lovely and - by necessity virginal - Abigail. It was a proposition that Abigail had resisted over the years and her parents had never particularly forced her to seriously consider.
What Abigail had said to Charlotte the other morning was true - to a degree. Her father would not force her to wed where she was not inclined. However, that did not mean that he would not strongly suggest that she consider Mr. Burleigh's proposal. Especially now that her intention never to wed at all had been made so very public. In fact, this news might be the very thing that pushed him in the other direction.
Especially since the letter that had arrived for Abigail that morning hinted that Burleigh was growing impatient waiting for her to return to Plymouth and was threatening to pull his contracts with Henry & Sons. Unless, of course, Burleigh could speak to Abigail about a matter of great importance as soon as she arrived back home. The cancellation of the contracts would put a serious dent in her father's finances. It would not ruin him, of course, but the lack of Burleigh's business would hurt.
In the same letter, Abigail's mother had also warned her not to dally too long at Fairhaven, and if it seemed as if a man was taking an untoward interest in her, then perhaps she should pack up her maid Elsie and Mrs. Cutwright and depart for Plymouth immediately before her reputation could be sullied and Mr. Burleigh's interest waned.
Before Abigail had a chance to fall in love with another man.
Which was precisely what was happening. Especially after last night.
Abigail was afraid that she truly was beginning to fall in love with
the roguish duke, especially after last night. If she remained a spinster, she could, in theory, avoid Mr. Burleigh forever. As long as he thought he had a prayer of obtaining her as his wife, he was unlikely to sever business ties with her father. Though Abigail had no intention of marrying Burleigh, the man didn't need to know that. At least not until the fall when her father discovered if he had won several of the large shipping contracts he had bid on. Then, it would not matter if Burleigh took his business elsewhere, for Henry & Sons would have more shipping traffic than they could handle.
However if Abigail wed before then and her father failed to obtain those contracts? Well, her mother's letter this morning had indicated that it might be courting disaster. Not only that, but it was likely that Abigail's dowry would be required to make the coffers full again - which meant that it was unlikely that any peer would then want her. Abigail had the funds left to her by her grandmother, of course, but they paled in comparison to her dowry. Implying she was attractive only for the fortune she brought with her.
Except to Adam. Though he had never said as much, in her heart, Abigail knew that her dowry meant nothing to him. And it likely never would.
For all of those reasons and more, Adam Reynolds was a temptation that Abigail should resist. Or at the very least, avoid at all costs. But she couldn't. She was continually drawn back to him, though for no reason she could articulate. She had attempted - and failed in rather spectacular fashion - to put distance between them. So for her sake and the sake of her family, she needed to try again. Only this time, she must do better. For so many reasons.
That was all the more reason for Abigail to turn one of the large, plush music room chairs around so that the back faced the doorway and settle in for a morning of reading - however boring that might be. Especially when a group was getting together to explore the old Roman ruins at the far edge of Fairhaven's grounds.
Abigail had been looking forward to the expedition, especially after Charlotte had informed her that Lord Enwright had a small group of men from the British Museum working at the site almost around the clock. Given that the museum was currently looking to expand, anything of importance found at Fairhaven would likely be placed into the permanent collection and displayed for all of England to see. It would be, in Abigail's opinion, quite thrilling to see some of the ancient artifacts before they went on display.
Except that Adam would likely be on the expedition as well.
It wasn't that Abigail wished to avoid Adam entirely. In fact, she craved his presence, much to her shame - especially after the way he had kissed her last night. And truly, being seen in his company might not be that bad for either of their reputations. Or her heart. Also, she had no real intention of marrying Mr. Burleigh so what did it truly matter if she spent time with Adam or not.
Rather Abigail reasoned logically - all the while lying to herself as only a woman in love could - it was more that she did not know what she would say to Adam when she saw him in the light of day. His delightful kisses and sensual caresses had fired her blood the night before, and she craved more. And it was that craving for his touch that embarrassed her. Such behavior meant that she was a wanton of the worst sort, at least according to people like Mama and Miss Cutwright. She had been lectured since birth not to allow a man to take such liberties with her or her person.
And until last night, Abigail never had.
More than that, she did not wish for Adam to think ill of her.
She was also worried about how her reputation might suffer if word got out that she was seen cavorting with someone like Adam. Despite everything, he was still a duke. However, she was not a lady, even though she behaved with far more dignity than most ladies she knew. Abigail knew she would be viewed as some poor, deluded woman desperate to claim a title for herself by preying upon a peer who was having a bit of a rough go of things himself. She also knew that her family would be sorely disappointed in her. Especially when they discovered that she was only too happy to leave Miss Cutwright's eagle-eyed supervision whenever she could. Which had been most of the time since she had arrived at Fairhaven.
Abigail did not want that - not for her and not for Adam. For their relationship was not like that. It was not some sordid and disgusting affair. Rather, she could be herself around him. She did not have to pretend to be anything other than a ship owner's daughter from Plymouth. She did not have to titter behind a fan and pretend not to care as some cad ogled her bosom, all the while believing that she was free for the taking if he wished. As for Adam? To her, he was just a man. He was not a duke, despite the title he held. After all, she had found him sprawled on the ground half-naked. It was rather difficult to view him as an untouchable peer with a lofty title after that.
So after Adam had escorted her back to the manor house as discreetly as possibly last night and then disappeared back into the darkness of Fairhaven's grounds, Abigail had made the decision that she needed to stay away from him as much as possible. Again.
Not for her own good, because what did it matter if one soon-to-be spinster engaged in a harmless flirtation with a duke who was far above her touch, but for Adam's sake. He was attempting to reclaim his reputation and, though they had not spoken of it, Abigail had heard the rumors beginning that perhaps the duke had been correct in ending his sister's betrothal. The whispers were faint yet, but they were there just the same and Abigail had no doubt that if more information about Lord Selby came to light, Adam's reputation would be restored - if not fully then at least to the point where he would be welcomed into Society homes once more.
She wanted that for him. Because it would make him happy. And more than anything, Abigail wanted Adam to be happy.
Satisfied - if not particularly happy herself - with her choice of activities for the day, Abigail had just settled into her chair when she heard the music room door close. Terrified that it was De La Croix hoping for another chance at her, she poked her head around the side of the chair only to see the rather imposing form of Lady Hathaway walking directly towards her.
Abigail sprung to her feet immediately and dipped into a low curtsey, not wishing to offend Adam's mother. "Your grace. How lovely to see you this morning." Well, it wasn't really, but Abigail wasn't about to confess that the appearance of Lady Hathaway made her want to cast up her accounts where she stood.
That made Mary Reynolds laugh and for a moment, Abigail could see Adam in the older woman's smile. The sound of her laughter was rusty, as if she did not do it often, but it appeared to be genuine. "Ah, child, I doubt that it is lovely for you." Without waiting for Abigail to offer her a seat, Lady Hathaway moved another chair around so that she could sit down and waved Abigail into the other chair she had just vacated. "After all, your name was mentioned in conjunction with my son in this morning's gossip rags."
"Only as a lady he would not be interested in, your grace," Abigail countered, her heart beating so fast and hard in her chest that she was surprised that Lady Hathaway couldn't heart it.
"Pishaw!" The older woman made a dismissive motion with her hand. "After all of this time in Society and you still do not understand the gossip sheets yet?"
Abigail furrowed her brow. "Your grace? I am afraid that I do not understand."
For a long moment, the duchess simply studied her with slate gray eyes so similar to those of her son, making Abigail wish to squirm in her seat, though she resisted the temptation. "No, you truly don't, do you." It was a statement and not a question.
"I truly do not." Though she had been in Society for more than one season, Abigail was not a peer, so she had never been presented at court. She could not attend Almack's. Her friends, or at the very least those she took tea with, were few and with the exception of both Lucy and Charlotte, she did not move in the rarefied circles that the duchess likely did. Therefore, Abigail never had reason to learn.
Lady Hathaway settled back into her chair. "Only half of what is printed it true, child," the woman began as she pulled her shawl tighter about her, even
though once more, the day was already turning beastly hot. "The rest? It is pure speculation meant to tease and suggest. It is meant to confuse and Madame C., though she is one of us, is among the best at her trade."
"I still do not understand." Abigail shook her head in the negative. "I was mentioned as a female specifically not interested in your son. I believe we covered that, did we not?" She paused. "And I am hardly one of you. I am not society born. Therefore, I am not a lady."
"You are far more of a lady than most females who walk these halls, blue blood or no." Then the duchess shook her head as if to clear her mind. "And as I was about to say, in my experience, it is females deemed not to be interested in a man that truly are." She sniffed dismissively. "After all, Lady Charlotte is all but betrothed to the viscount, yet the papers would have them separated weeks ago. And both Lady Josephine and Lady Florentina are not currently speaking to my son out of fear that his 'dastardly' reputation might soil their person somehow, yet some of the gossip sheets have him all but to the chapel with the fools." This time, the woman snorted and Abigail gaped at her in shock. "Foolish chits. I wouldn't want them for my son anyway. Too meek and timid for a man like him. Sadly, I did not see that before, though now I do. Still, it is of no matter. But you? You are different. And I think that, despite reports to the contrary, there is something between you two. More than a bit, unless I miss my guess. Which is why I am here."
The Kiss of a Rogue Page 14
