Garrett laughed. “I believe that we have moved beyond the boundaries of courting.”
“Not for us, my darling.” She playfully swatted him. “I will stay for a short while, then I must return to my room.”
As Garrett lay with Abbie curled around him, a warning bell tolled in his head. He would never forgive himself if he placed Abbie and Megan in danger. He spoke the truth when he stated the curse was still with him. Vigilance was warranted. But when she lay in his arms like this, nothing else mattered. Not curses, past hurts, youthful mistakes, or regrets. He was in love with a glorious woman—the same woman—for the first and last time in his life.
Chapter 11
Once they had indulged in a late brunch, Megan and Abbie were escorted to the Wollstonecraft carriage with a promise that it would return later in the evening for dinner. Abbie did not own a fancy gown, but the earl had assured her that it would not be a formal affair.
As the footmen unloaded their cases and carried them into the residence, Abbie placed her hands on her cheeks. Still flushed and tingling from her passionate encounter with Garrett the night before. How would she be able to keep this secret? Much had been resolved, truths spoken, feelings admitted, but nothing pleased her more than him agreeing to a new beginning and to place the curse aside. It was as if a black cloud had been lifted from her heart, at least partway. She would remain optimistically cautious.
Alberta greeted her warmly, calling for the tea tray as they all settled into the parlor. Megan and Jonas exchanged shy glances but did not speak.
“How was the visit, Megan?” Alberta asked.
Her face lit up. “Oh, Mrs. Eaton, the place is a palace, or at least as large as one. The earl gifted me with a signed copy of Frankenstein. The author is his fourth cousin. Can you imagine! He and the viscount were ever so kind, and the food! I thought I would burst.”
The housekeeper entered with the tea tray and a plate of lemon biscuits and placed them on the table in front of Alberta. “Thank you, Mrs. Claxton.” As she poured, she asked, “And what did you think of Garrett Wollstonecraft?”
Abbie’s insides tumbled with apprehension as she awaited her daughter’s reply.
Megan’s mouth turned down. “At first glance he’s frightening, with his size and all. But he kept us busy going for rides around the estate, playing parlor games, and giving tours of the libraries. They have three.” She paused as Alberta handed her a teacup and saucer. “Perhaps someday I will like him well enough. I am still angry, in here.” Her daughter placed a closed fist to her chest. “I do not need or want a father, and I feel as if I am being forced to accept him.”
Not a ringing endorsement at all, and Abbie was disappointed. What did she expect, her daughter to claim him as her father after only a few days? How unrealistic. “No one is forcing you.”
Megan sniffed. “I was not given a choice to meet his family. You made me go.”
Well, she had her there. Abbie did not wish to tell her daughter it was mostly to have her focus on something else besides Jonas. She couldn’t relay that fact, what with the man in the room drinking tea with them. Megan’s approval of Garrett was of paramount importance if Abbie was to have a future with him. It was an immense if.
Abbie accepted the tea from Alberta. If she did decide to reconcile with him, it would mean a major upheaval to their lives. Leaving Standon and the only home that Megan had ever known. Abbie was wise to suggest that they keep their budding relationship slow and secret.
“I like Garrett,” Jonas stated as he reached for a biscuit. “He helps people. He’s helping us by paying for supplies.”
“True. We are on a fixed income,” Alberta stated. “I know talking about finances is frowned upon, but there is no possible way I could afford to renovate this place entirely out of pocket. I argued, but to no avail. Garrett has contributed lumber and labor. When I protested further, he stated that I was giving a number of his tenants much needed work. How could I say no?” Alberta sipped her tea. “The entire family is generous to a fault.”
Alberta’s statement made Abbie admire Garrett all the more. If only Megan would take the words to heart.
The large landau arrived promptly at thirty minutes past seven. Once they were all seated, the carriage departed, and Abbie was filled with anticipation at seeing Garrett. She wore a sapphire blue gown with an off-the-shoulder style, the neckline trimmed with three layers of lace. There would be no crinolines for her, not only for the cost, but because Abbie did not care for the current style. Instead, she used several layers of petticoats to emphasize the wideness of the full skirt.
Though the gown was more than adequate for a Standon event, it hardly suited for dinner at an earl and viscount’s estate. Alberta’s silver gown was of a similar style. On the seat opposite was Jonas, looking rather stunning in a black suit and a snow-white cravat. Megan kept giving him clandestine glances. Garrett had informed her of the conversation he and his brother, Julian, had with Jonas. She could only hope that the young man would keep the promises he’d made to Garrett and Julian.
Megan wore a new purchase: her first gown that hung to her ankles. Another sign her daughter was growing up. Pale green in color, it accentuated the emerald in her hazel eyes and showed her crowning glory of red hair to perfection. She still wore her hair down to show she wasn’t completely mature. But she and Alberta had styled it attractively, using a pearl hair comb to hold the locks of her thick hair in place.
When they arrived a phalanx of footmen assisted them from the carriage while Martin, the butler, welcomed them. Once their cloaks and capes were taken, they were all shown into a room Abbie did not recognize.
The formal parlor had three crystal chandeliers, and Abbie smiled at the bright illumination. Gas lighting was not to be found in Standon yet. The walls were gold, the velvet curtains red, and in the far corner, tables and chairs were set up for cards and the like. Enhancing the elegance of the room was the expert workmanship of the cornices and moldings.
After the earl and viscount stepped forward to greet everyone, Abbie found she was alone with Viscount Tensbridge. “Where is Garrett?” she asked.
“My valet is assisting him. By their own choice, he and my sons do not have their own, so we share for dinners and such.”
Here lay the perfect opportunity to converse about his son. “Speaking of sons, my lord, Garrett has asked me to speak to you regarding Aidan.”
Tensbridge clasped her elbow and pulled her farther away from the others. “You have news?”
She stared up into his worried eyes; the pain was plain to see. “He is doing as well as can be expected, my lord. Allow me to explain about the sanatorium. My late husband started the clinic years ago, and when he passed his friend and colleague, Dr. Gethin Bevan, decided to continue his work. They had been friends since their boyhoods in Wales, attended Cambridge together, and decided on Standon, of all places, because of the privacy and peace such a community could afford.” She smiled. “Also for the fact the Knights Hospitallers lived and worked in the area in the fourteenth century. My husband wished to carry on the tradition of helping others in need.”
“Very worthy; I admire him for it. And Dr. Bevan.”
“The point I am making is both were made members of good standing in the College of Physicians. Well qualified and professional. Dr. Bevan believes as fervently as my late husband in the facets of addiction and how to treat it humanely. For they believe it is a disease, not a result of weakness or a bad habit.” She laid her gloved hand on Tensbridge’s arm. “I was there during the first few days of Aidan’s treatment, my lord. Since Elwyn passed I often volunteer, and have learned much about the condition.”
“Tell me everything. Hold nothing back.”
Abbie did as he asked, relating the symptoms of withdrawal: the nightmares, the tremors, and the sickness. As she described his physical condition, the pain in the viscount’s
eyes increased. “The good news, my lord, is that he’s through the worst of it. Now comes the difficult part, recovery and staying sober. He will need fresh air, exercise, and a proper diet. Those aspects alone will take months. He will also have to come to terms with everything that has happened. Learn to respect himself once again. Dr. Bevan and his daughter, Cristyn, will ensure he receives thorough and compassionate care.”
The viscount laid his hand on top of hers and squeezed. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for telling me this. It has helped. Please call me Tensbridge, I cannot abide all this ‘my lord’ business.”
“Of course I will.” She smiled warmly.
“Also, thank you for introducing us to Megan. I look forward to getting to know you both better. You are a welcome addition to the family.”
“How very kind, I…” The words died in her throat, for Garrett had walked into the room. He wore a red kilt, sash, and an accompanying black dinner jacket and vest, along with matching hose and black shoes. His long hair was tied back, revealing his handsome face to perfection. A smile crept across her lips as he headed toward her. It was as if he stepped out of a Scottish castle. He took her breath away.
Garrett took her gloved hand and kissed it. “Good evening, lassie.”
She laughed at his sensual Scottish burr as warmth moved through her. He looked every inch a Highlander. How utterly appealing—and arousing.
“Quite the entrance, Brother.” Julian slapped him on the back. “Excuse me as I see to our other guests.”
Neither she nor Garrett acknowledged his departure, for he still held her hand as they stared in each other’s eyes. “The tartan is Mackinnon, my mother’s clan,” he said as he kissed her hand once more before releasing it.
“How handsome you look in it.” She leaned in and whispered, “I would love it if some evening you wore the kilt and nothing else.”
Garrett moaned softly. “Naughty woman. You’re tempting me to show you how much your words have…excited me.”
She dare not look down. Instead she glanced about the room to find that they had become figures of interest to everyone else. So much for keeping their mutual attraction concealed.
Garrett murmured, “For you? I will wear the kilt and nothing else.” Louder he said, “Shall we join the others?”
He held out his arm and she took it as they walked toward the group. Megan was frowning, and Abbie fought not to roll her eyes in response. What now? As drinks were served—Megan was given sparkling cider—polite conversation broke out and Abbie took the opportunity to pull Megan aside. “What is wrong?” she whispered to her daughter.
“Nothing, Mama,” she replied in a flat, emotionless voice.
She knew her daughter too well. “You did not like the way we were looking at each other, did you?” Megan’s lips pursed in response. “I have every right to live my life the way I wish, as you have pointed out to me more than once. Your papa is gone, my dear. I mourn him still. But I will not deny having feelings for another man. Have I asked you to deny yours for Jonas? As inappropriate as they are at this time of your life.”
Megan blinked. “No, Mama.”
“Perhaps you believe my attraction to Garrett is inappropriate.”
Megan shrugged, then gave a slight nod.
“I will not be rushing into anything. I will remain circumspect in my dealings with Garrett, as we have much to discuss. But I also will not deny that I still harbor deep feelings for him. Nor will I deny that I am somewhat frightened by those intense emotions.” Abbie paused. Should she be bearing her soul to her daughter like this?
Yes. She had to make Megan understand that relationships between men and women were fraught with myriad complications such as overwhelming passion and crippling doubt. “This is all part and parcel of falling for a man who brings his own fears and desires into the mix. It can be entirely messy and exhilarating. Bear with me as I come to terms with this uncertain situation. Be patient if I act impulsively or out of character. Allow me the courtesy to live my life as I see fit.” She took her daughter’s hand and spoke in a soft tone. “Garrett is a good man. Permit yourself to like him. Even a little bit. He is not replacing your papa; he never could. I know it as well as he. But life does march on, despite the fact that we miss those no longer with us.”
Megan bit her lower lip. “I understand. I will try, really I will.”
“Good girl. Now let us join the others.”
By the time they were shown to the dining room Megan’s mood had improved. Abbie now understood that she and Garrett were walking a fine line, their renewed relationship fragile. Any manner of outside forces could break it to bits, and it worried her. But staring at him across the table caused her heart to beat faster. Was this moving too quickly? When she was in his arms, it felt as if they were not moving fast enough.
After everyone was seated, the footmen brought a tureen of soup and other delicacies. The table was impeccable, with white linen cloth, napkins, three gold candelabras, elegant white china with gold trim, and more utensils and glasses than Abbie knew what to do with.
“We decided not to be too formal,” the earl stated. “We are going with five courses instead of ten.” He winked teasingly. “Since there is no lady of the house, I approve all the menus. We will start with an onion and potato soup, then a salmon mousse, a chateaubriand of beef, asparagus casserole, roasted carrots, and assorted cheeses and pickles. Dessert will be a raspberry trifle and assorted biscuits. How does that suit, Megan?”
She smiled at the earl. “Sounds delicious, my lord.”
“Excellent. I hope you brought your appetites; be sure to tuck in.”
Everyone laughed.
“The flowers in the centerpiece are beautiful, my lord. What are they?” Abbie asked the earl. The orange, red, and yellow color scheme was attractive, as were their daisy-like petals.
“Cape heaths, from the south of Africa. A particular favorite of mine. Do you like them, Megan?” the earl asked.
She nodded. “I do, my lord. I adore flowers and plants.”
The earl snapped his napkin open and laid it across his lap. “Excellent. Pick a day next week and I will take you through our greenhouse and orangery. I should return from my journey by then.”
“Father and I are heading to Carrbury tomorrow morning for a short visit,” Tensbridge offered. “We thought it best to see Riordan in person and inform him of developments. Carrbury is south of here, in East Sussex. Riordan is schoolmaster there.”
“A schoolmaster? How lovely,” Megan stated. “Will I meet him soon, and your oldest son, my lord?”
It amazed Abbie how at ease her daughter seemed around the earl and viscount. If only she would extend it to Garrett.
A pained smile touched Tensbridge’s lips at the mention of Aidan. “Of course. Both are busy at the moment, but when they hear of you, they will be eager to make your acquaintance.”
Pleasant conversation continued as the courses were brought out, and Abbie was relieved when Megan finally asked Garrett a question about horses. Jonas joined the conversation as well, asking questions on breeding. Two hours passed swiftly.
When they had finished their meals, the earl stood. “I believe the gentlemen will forgo the brandy and cigars, and instead we shall all move to the parlor. Tea and coffee will be served, along with aperitifs and spirits.”
As everyone headed toward the parlor, Garrett clasped Abbie’s elbow and pulled her along the hallway into a vacant room. He closed the door, then swung her about until she found herself leaning against it, Garrett’s left hand lay flat on the wall near her head. Abbie could barely make out his features in the darkened room; only one gas lamp was lit in the corner. But he stood close enough that she could see his smoldering gaze, the green in his eyes glittering with emotions she could not name.
“All through dinner, I wanted nothing more than to push the dishes
aside and lay you on the table. Lift the hem of your gown, touch you.” He kissed her with a ferocity that caused her stomach to drop clear to the floor.
The kisses trailed across her cheek to her neck, and she moaned. “When will I see you again? Tonight? How? Where?” he murmured as he nibbled on her earlobe.
Abbie could not think straight, her mind whirling. “I…I don’t know.”
He pressed his hard body against her, rotating his muscular hips against her so there was no mistaking his arousal. “I need you, Abbie. To be inside you.”
Where could they meet? Abbie could hardly smuggle him into her room; Megan was next door, and Alberta and Jonas not far away. They certainly hadn’t been quiet during lovemaking in the past; no doubt nothing had changed, if last night in his room was any indication. The stables were not a viable option; they would freeze, regardless of any woodstoves. The orangery? The greenhouse? Oh, he feels good. Clasping his broad shoulders, she inhaled. And smells good. It was a different cologne from before, but enticing. Sandalwood, or perhaps—
“Abbie. When?” His tone was pleading, desperation clear in his husky voice.
How tempting to say, “Here, against the door,” except Garrett would follow through on her suggestion without hesitation.
“Tomorrow night. Find a place we can meet far from the residences. A place not too chilly.” Abbie could no more deny him than she could deny herself. She wanted him, too. Most desperately. Who could think of caution when he was near? When he nibbled enticingly on her earlobe, causing shivers of desire to ripple through her?
Garrett captured her mouth once again, exploring, making her ache in places she thought would never ache again.
“Garrett, we must—”
He broke away, his chest heaving. “Rejoin the others? Before they suspect? Mo chridhe, they already suspect.”
She touched her flushed cheeks. “Well, perhaps it is wise we not give further evidence to the contrary.” This time she glanced down. Thankfully, his furry purse hid most of the evidence of his arousal.
Scandal with a Sinful Scot Page 13
