Abigail knew that the masked ball was far tamer than it used to be, and it was unlikely that anything so altogether scandalous would occur. However, she did allow that if she wished to dance with Adam more than the standard two times, then she likely would. And she doubted that she would be the only young lady to seek out her paramour and do the same.
Sliding her feet into her slippers and reaching for the gold and amethyst encrusted facial mask that had been crafted to match her dress, Abigail waved away Elsie, who was still fussing with the strands of diamonds and amethysts that she had woven through Abigail's hair.
"Oh! But, me lady! One of the strands! It's just a bit off, it is." If nothing else, Elsie took the job of dressing her mistress very seriously. Even if she had never taken her lessons in diction and proper speech seriously.
"That will be all, Elsie," Abigail replied as she looked at her self once more in the mirror, hoping that Adam would be pleased with what he saw. "I do not wish to be late and I fear that I already am."
Then, like the duchess she was not but hoped to become, Abigail swept out of the room with a great deal more confidence than she actually felt.
She is late. Dear God, I hope nothing ill has befallen her.
Adam looked at his pocketwatch again before tucking it back into his waistcoat. Abigail had promised that she would meet him at the bottom of Fairhaven's grand staircase just after the ball began so that they might make their grand entrance - together. It would be their way of announcing to one and all that they were a couple, even if there was no official announcement about their betrothal just yet. He would have preferred an official announcement, of course, but then, Abigail was in something of a sticky situation with her family and he had no idea how to handle them just yet. And, well, he had not actually asked for her hand in marriage. Though he meant to. He simply wasn't quite certain how to go about it.
On top of that, Sophia had once more kicked up a fuss that very morning, threatening to run off with Selby if Adam did not change his mind about their betrothal. She had called him a brute - and worse - in front of everyone in the breakfast room, but he had held fast and, after she had stormed out in a huff, he had received congratulations from many - including the very powerful and extremely opinionated Lady Huffton - who commended him for standing his ground and refusing to allow his sister to ruin her life.
However, Adam had insisted that, at the very least, he and Abigail enter the masked ball together so that everyone at Fairhaven at the very least knew of Adam's intention to wed Abigail. He needed to claim her as his own, and, at present, that was the best way to do so, especially as speculation regarding their possible upcoming nuptials was already running rampant. At least until he decided whether or not it would be best to simply sweep her off to Gretna and be done with things. He had promised her a proper wedding, of course, but now, he was coming to regret that decision just a bit. Should they every actually get around to marrying, that is.
Adam was about to go in search of Abigail when he saw a shadow fall across the carpet in front of him. Looking up, he was treated to a vision in violet and gold, his garden goddess looking far lovelier than he could have ever imagined.
"You are beautiful," he murmured as he strode towards her to sweep her into a breath-stealing kiss. "You are utterly exquisite in that gown." He leaned down and nuzzled her neck. "Though you would also look even more exquisite out of it and naked in my bed."
"Adam! Behave!" Abigail swatted him with her fan, but he could see from the mirth in her eyes that she was simply teasing him. "Else you'll have me ruined before the first waltz even plays."
Twirling her in his arms, Adam came around her so that he could pull her hard against him, her backside sung against his already straining erection. "I need you again tonight, my love," he whispered seductively in her ear. "Now that I have finally had you, I discover that I cannot get enough of you."
Rather than pulling away, Abigail leaned back into Adam's embrace. "Nor I of you," she confessed. "In fact, it has taken all of my strength to stay away from your rooms these last few nights."
Instead, Abigail had lain awake in her own bed tossing and turning, aching to feel the hard press of Adam's body into hers once more. If that made her a wanton, then so be it. She did not care. She desired Adam and after tonight, she wasn't certain when she would see him again.
"Then don't," he whispered as he nibbled at her earlobe. "Come to me tonight. Or I shall come to you." He reached down and settled his hand over her stomach and Abigail knew what he was thinking. She might already be with child. They had not been careful and even yesterday when he had taken her inside the closed confines the orangery, he had been unable to control himself and had spilled inside of her. "I need you, Abby. All of you. I need you to be mine. Forever and always."
"I am yours," she whispered, wondering once more how they would make this work until they could be wed. If they would wed. And what would happen if she began increasing before that could occur. "Tonight. I will come to you. I promise. But now we must go in, else we will be missed. After all, all of Crestfield is here tonight as well, and I know you are among the guests they most wish to see."
With a sigh, Adam released her and offered her his arm instead. Just as a proper gentleman would. "I don't see why Enwright had to become so neighborly all of the sudden. It was just an intimate house party. Now it is a mad crush." He didn't want to see any of the people from Crestfield or rehash his victory in the Fairhaven Cup. He just wanted Abigail. However he knew that once the rest of the guests saw her, he would no longer be able to keep her all to himself.
After all, she was a bright, shining star and despite her lack of pedigree, everyone would want at least a small piece of her. Especially once they saw her in that utterly delectable gown.
And so it proved, unfortunately for Adam.
Once they walked into the grand ballroom, she was all but swept away from him by a moving swarm of women clad in similar jewel tones and led by a woman who looked very much like Lady Charlotte. At the beginning of the ball, it was customary for the gentleman and ladies to separate for a time. Adam had thought to go against the trend, but clearly, the females in the room had other ideas.
Then, Lord and Lady Enwright appeared clad in outrageous costumes and the revelry began in earnest, which included dancing. Adam had hoped to seek out Abigail for the first dance, but a woman he did not know - and who was far too old to be Abigail and in an ugly bronze gown that did not fit properly - claimed him for the first set and he would have been a cad to refuse. So he had taken her in hand and danced, making certain to let her know that he was not interested in her numerous - and rather pushy - offers to retreat to her suite at Crestfield so that they might become better acquainted.
The old Adam Reynolds might have been that callous, but the man he was today would not be. He knew the woman - likely either a willing widow or an experienced courtesan - was extremely disappointed when he refused, but he remained firm in his actions. The woman took his refusal surprisingly well, considering how hard she had pushed him to go someplace private only moments before. But Adam didn't want any woman in his life or in his bed except for Abigail.
Unfortunately, it was becoming more and more difficult to find her. In fact, it was all but impossible now. The crowd was swelling and even with the false wall pushed aside, there was little room to move. There was even less room when the dancing began. Several times he thought he saw her dark locks in the crowd, but they either turned out not to be her or the woman in question was gone before he could catch up to her.
It was damnably frustrating and more than a little annoying. For the more Adam moved through the crowd, the more certain he was becoming of one thing. When this house party ended, he could not let Abigail go back to Plymouth to face her family - or Mr., Burleigh - alone. Propriety all but dictated that he accompany his mother and Sophia on to Willowby Hill where they intended to summer until the Little Season began. Yet he also knew that Lord Blackmore would likel
y accompany them if Adam asked - and paid him handsomely.
He fully intended to do just that. For he was afraid that if he allowed Abigail to return to her family without him, they might just have her leg shackled to Burleigh before he could arrive to claim her properly. The letter he had found at the breakfast table that morning had indicated as such.
Though he and Abigail had planned to breakfast together, Adam had arrived later than anticipated because Jenkins, his valet, had been all thumbs and unable to shave Adam properly. By the time he had arrived, Abigail was gone from her usual spot. However, she had left behind a letter from her mother that had just arrived that morning. Mrs. Northrup was eager for Abigail to come home so that she could wed Mr. Burleigh with all possible haste.
Adam had sought Abigail out immediately afterwards, hoping to speak about the matter, but then he had seen her at the edge of the labyrinth looking for him, and he had been overcome with the sudden need to couple with her again. In fact, the idea of taking her out of doors, with her mounting him and riding him like a stallion, had all but made him spill himself where he stood - just like some green youth.
Now that he had experienced the wonder that was Miss Abigail Northrup, Adam found that he craved her constantly and that his brain all but turned to mush when he was near her. He would have to work on that in the future. Couldn't have him attacking his wife when the servants were about, after all. Then again, he was a duke, so perhaps he could.
Now, with dreams of Abigail as his wife dancing through his head, Adam pushed his way through the crowd, growing a bit more desperate to find her. Even in this crush, he should have seen some sign of her. After all, in that dress, she was certain to be one of the most popular ladies present. Yet there was no sign of her. Still, he wasn't concerned until Lady Charlotte dashed up to him, all but out of breath. She had removed her mask and Adam could see that there was genuine concern in her expression. This was not good. Not good at all.
"My lady?" Adam asked as she came up to him and took his arm. "Is something amiss?"
"Have you seen Abigail?" Charlotte wasted no time in getting directly to the point.
Adam shook his head. "No. I thought she was with you. The ball is only but half an hour old, after all,"
"She was with me." Charlotte bit her lip and glanced about the room. "I know from past masquerades that the men and women always separate at the very beginning and then seek out their first partners for the night. We discussed the practice at length the other day and she was rather excited to break the rules for a night." Another couple whirled by and Charlotte peered at them closely. "I turned my back for a moment to speak with Lady Adelaide, as she had hoped to secure a partner early and I was going to help her since Francis, er, I mean Lord Underhill was prepared to seek me out when the dancing began."
This time when a couple went by, Adam could tell it was all Charlotte could do to keep from yanking the man's mask off. "When I turned back around, Abigail was gone." Lady Charlotte looked up at him worriedly. "This is not like her. I am afraid that something has happened. This entire situation? It...feels wrong. Both in my head and in my heart. I cannot explain it any better than that."
She did not need to, for Adam felt the same unease. He had for some time now, in fact from the very moment the unknown woman in bronze had asked him to dance when he was seeking out Abigail. He knew most of the courtesans and widows of London, and that woman had not been one of them. It could have been someone from the surrounding countryside, he supposed, but she moved like a lady with some experience. She was not an innocent, and he had the horrible sensation that she had been sent to distract him.
Another visual sweep of the ballroom showed that the crowd had thinned a bit. The orchestra was now well into the second set and some of the more eager couples were already sneaking off into the night to be alone. Yet Abigail was not among the crowds remaining.
"Go find Lord Underhill," Adam urged Lady Charlotte. "And anyone else you can find. Especially Lord Enwright or Lord Blackmore if you encounter them first. We need to rouse a search party. I fear Abigail has been kidnapped."
"Your grace?" Lady Charlotte seemed frozen in place. "Who would do such a thing?"
"A man named Mr. Burleigh," he replied quickly. "He is apparently seeking her hand by way of her family. They wish her to wed him. As I am certain you know, she does not feel the same."
Lady Charlotte nodded in understanding. "She has chosen you instead and he is not happy about her choice."
"She is a prize he is being denied and based on a letter I found this morning, I fear that he means to take her by whatever means necessary. He is not a patient man." Adam gave Charlotte a little push. "Now go. I am not certain how long Abigail has been gone, but I do know where they are likely headed."
The other woman nodded, and Adam was pleased to see that like Abigail, Lady Charlotte Cleary was no shrinking violet. "Gretna."
It was a single word but it filled Adam with absolute terror. If Abigail and Burleigh reached Scotland before he could rescue her, there would be no undoing the damage. She would be lost to him forever. Hell and blazes. He nodded, his eyes still searching the room just in case. "Just so. Now go and find some strong, capable men. Before it is too late." Then Adam turned and began pushing his way through the throng of people, desperate to find men capable of helping him get Abigail back.
Because Adam had been wrong when he thought that he could grow to love her. He already did love Abigail. And idiot that he was, he had never told her, even the other night as they made love and he had begun to suspect the truth. Because Adam had been a coward, too afraid of his own feelings to confess them to the very woman who needed to hear them the most. That was likely the greatest sin Adam had ever committed in his life. Even greater than when he had thrown over Lady Diana. And that was truly saying something.
Chapter Nineteen
Blindfolded and bound, Abigail hit the cushioned squabs inside the coach with a soft thud and her heart immediately leapt into her throat. She was being kidnapped and taken away from Fairhaven. Away from her friends. Away from Adam. She was also terrified, though she was doing her best to remain calm. She had learned long ago that giving in to fear never solved anything. Often times, it only made situations worse.
For the moment, she needed to take stock of her situation and discover where she was. Other than inside a carriage, of course. That part was rather obvious.
The last thing she remembered was being pulled away from Adam by Charlotte and several other women. She had wanted to remain by his side but then remembered that the masquerade followed a specific protocol and that she needed to wait and then seek him out as the dancing began.
It had seemed a trifling annoyance really, and Abigail had followed Charlotte to the refreshment table, her mind a bit preoccupied with the problem of Adam and how she would leave him to return home.
Therefore, when a woman in a bronze-colored gown had swept past Abigail, pushing her backwards towards a door that led to one of the many secret hallways, Abigail hadn't thought much about it. She had simply assumed that the woman was rude or perhaps a bit foxed. She had just been catching her balance when another woman in a similar bronze gown swept past her and out of the hallway - on a path that led directly towards Adam. For Abigail had never truly taken her eyes off of him since they had parted ways.
Abigail had opened her mouth to call out, but then someone had come up from behind her, likely out of that same passageway and placed a cloth with some sort of sweet scent on it over her nose and mouth.
That was the last thing she remembered until she awoke as she was half tossed and half placed into a surprisingly well-sprung carriage. Given the crush of guests arriving from Crestfield and the surrounding villages since Lord Enwright had decided to open the ball to everyone within an hour's travel, it would have been very easy to sneak her out into a waiting coach with little trouble. Especially since everyone was masked. And few people were paying attention to the comings and goings of one
couple.
Gripped by a moment of panic, Abigail wondered what was to become of her, though she had a fairly good idea already. Then she shook her head sternly. She would figure a way out of this situation. Though if she had a battledore racket or something similar, that would be most helpful. Instead, all she had was a too-tight, too-low cut gown and some jewels. She seriously doubted any of that frippery would help her now.
No. She needed to use her mind. That was the only way out of her present situation.
As it happened, Abigail could feel the exquisite velvet of the carriage cushions on her bare back. So. The carriage of someone wealthy, then. Likely a gentleman. Probably titled. Someone she either did not care for, had rejected, or had not shown favoritism towards. That narrowed the suspect pool a bit. As did the fact that her kidnapper worked with women. She doubted those ladies in matching bronze gowns were an accident, and from the depths of Abigail's mind, the feel of a feminine hand catching her when she fell after having the cloth placed over her nose surfaced for a brief moment.
Now, other hands - male hands from the feel of them - reached out to help right her so that she was settled more comfortably upon the cushions. Abigail had expected a bit rougher treatment from kidnappers so she was surprised when, moments after the coach rolled into motion, the blindfold was removed from over her eyes and her wrists and ankles were unbound.
She blinked rapidly a few times in the dim light from the single lamp hanging in the nearby sconce, not really surprised to see the man sitting across from her. "Comte," she whispered as she rubbed at her chaffed wrists. "I should have guessed you would be so bold."
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