Alex swore as he leapt from the gig, hobbling to check on the horse. It was scrambling to get up but was prevented from doing so by the harness.
He ran is hand over the horse’s nose. Talking quietly, Alex tried to calm the horse enough to unhitch him.
Lord Nathanial flew past, laughing at Alex as he continued around the curve Alex had missed.
"Easy, boy," Alex whispered. "Easy. I’m sorry. Let’s get you unhitched, shall we?”
The horse flicked his head but laid back down on the ground. Alex quickly unhitched him and then began to feel the horse’s legs, checking for any broken bones. Once he finished, the horse jumped up, tossing his head back and pawing at the ground.
Alex step-hopped over to the tree trunk they had very nearly hit and leaned his back against it. His leg shook violently once the excitement of the accident had ebbed. Finally giving way, Alex sunk to the ground.
His hands jerked as he tried to rub his aching leg. What had he been thinking pushing the horse to go so fast? He did not know this horse or his temperament. Why had he risked it, especially when he already held the lead over Lord Nathanial? Dropping his head back against the tree, Alex closed his eyes. He could have killed the horse and himself, with his recklessness.
Alex slammed his fist into the ground. "Thunder an’ Turf!"
A sharp intake of breath brought his head up. Miss Marleigh stood several rods off, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. She ran toward him, stopping just short of his outstretched legs.
"What happened?" Her voice was shaky and quiet.
Alex shrugged. "I think it obvious. I didn't make the curve."
She shook her head. Her voice came out stronger, but still a touch wobbly. "What were you thinking, participating in such a dangerous activity?" She moved closer. "I thought you smarter than this."
"I don't need a lecture, Miss Marleigh," Alex snapped.
She took a step back, moisture pooling in the bottom of her lids. “You are no longer alone at sea, my lord. There are people who care for you, even if you don’t care yourself.”
Tarnation! She was crying—because of him. Wait. Was she implying she cared for him?
"I'm sorry, Abigail. I shouldn't have snapped at you."
He rubbed at his leg faster, trying to expel all the tension hovering between them.
Abigail bit down on her lip, shaking her head. "It is I who should apologize. I should not have lectured you. I am in no position to tell you what you can or cannot do." Just like that, her tears vanished.
Alex leaned forward slightly. Where had they gone?
She let out squeak of a noise before she knelt down beside him. "You are injured. Again."
Alex shook his head. "No. I will be well. Parker will see to me."
She pointed to his buff colored coat. A hint of blood was just beginning to seep through the fabric.
Alex lifted his lapel and looked at his shoulder. "Tarnation. I must have opened my stitches again." Alex looked heavenward. "Parker is going to ring a peel over me."
Miss Marleigh looked around. "Where is your walking stick? You don't look like you will make it back to the house on your own."
Alex pushed against the tree, using it as leverage to help him stand. He got halfway up and his leg gave out, dropping him back to the ground with a hard thump. "I left it behind. There was no way for me to hold it and the reins."
Miss Marleigh stood and brushed the grass from her dress. "I shall go fetch it for you. Is it at the starting line?"
Alex shook his head. "No. Unfortunately, I left it in my chambers."
Her face pinked slightly.
"Parker should be about. He can fetch it for you."
Miss Marleigh nodded, before setting off at a brisk pace.
Alex leaned his head back against the tree. Why must she be kind to him? After all he had done?
He closed his eyes, willing the pain to go way. Lud, he had made a muddle of things.
A light breeze fluttered through the leaves, then the sound of horse hooves sounded, increasing in volume with each second. The last competitors rounded the corner, each glancing ever so quickly at Alex before they disappeared around the next bend. Alex dropped his head back against the trunk and closed his eyes again, the leaves tinkling in the branches above.
"Are you dead, Grayson?"
Alex grinned when he heard Ainsley's voice, but kept his eyes closed. "It takes more than an overturned gig to turn up my toes, Ainsley."
"I figured as much."
Alex felt Ainsley lay something on the grass. Grudgingly, Alex opened his eyes. His walking stick lay next to him. Alex looked around, but Miss Marleigh was nowhere to be seen.
"I happened upon her when she was bringing this to you. She seemed rather upset, so I promised I would see to you myself."
Alex pushed himself to standing, with the aid of his cane. "You can assure Miss Marleigh I am unharmed." Alex tried to stop his shaking hand. "I need only have Parker clean me up a bit. Then I shall be the pinkest of pinks." He winced as he took his first step.
“Tell her yourself. I don’t think she will take me at my word.” Ainsley chuckled. "You are an idiot, Grayson." He put an arm around Alex's waist and helped him back to the house. As they passed, Ainsley reached out and grabbed the horse’s reins, allowing him to trail behind them as they slowly made their way toward the stables.
A stable hand met them at the doors.
Ainsley passed off the reins. "Please see to Lord Grayson’s mount. He will need a good rub down after what he has been through."
"Ey, my lord." The boy led the horse away.
Alex leaned heavily on Ainsley. His head pounded and he felt dizzy. "Thank you, Ainsley. You’re a good friend."
"We used to be the best of friends. Perhaps there will come a time when you will trust me enough to tell me what has happened to you these last six years."
"I was in India." Alex's words slurred together.
"Of course you were." Ainsley shifted, carrying most of Alex's weight. "Stay with me a moment longer. We are almost to the house."
Alex tried to keep his eyes open, but as they entered through the front door, he rested his head dropped to Ainsley’s shoulder as the black closed in.
Alex limped heavily down the hallway toward the drawing room. A few hours of sleep had helped his headache, but his shoulder and thigh burned like the devil. Had he his druthers, he would take a tray in his chambers.
Parker claimed the gossip about Alex’s injuries was rampant. Some even said Alex was near death. Parker thought it best if people saw that Alex was well with their own eyes.
Alex thought it beyond the pale to think people cared whether he was well or not but had relented and agreed to participate in the evening activities.
He entered the parlor.
Miss Marleigh sat on the opposite side of the room with a group of ladies. She was not speaking, but smiled serenely as one of the others gestured with her hands.
Alex tugged on his collar, trying to loosen it enough for him to breathe completely. Parker must have tied it tighter than usual.
Miss Marleigh laughed quietly at something one of the ladies said.
Lud, she was beautiful. Alex sighed, putting his fingers in his collar again, pulling it away from his skin as much as he could.
She was more than just a pretty face. He had seen her kindness and wit, her intelligence and talent at the pianoforte. All of it combined made what he had to do that much more difficult. Even more so because he suspected it would hurt her which would be agony for him.
Spotting Andrews in town had reminded Alex of the precarious position he was living in. At any moment, he could be discovered, and nothing would stop Andrews from completing the task he had begun on the ship.
Alex rubbed gently at his shoulder.
Miss Marleigh's voice drifted to where Alex stood. She was the cause of most of his consternation.
Alex had no doubt, should Andrews discover Miss Marleigh, or rather Alex's f
eelings for her, he would waste no time in killing her as well.
Thinking on it made a cold chill run down Alex's back. He would never forgive himself if something should happen to Abigail.
He had hated leaving her so abruptly in town, but there was nothing for it. She was safer with Ainsley. Even that dolt, Mr. Williamson, was better for her than Alex.
Alex grabbed a glass of lemonade and leaned against the wall, watching Miss Marleigh over the rim of his glass. With everyone else engaged in their own conversations, he hoped no one noticed his attentions.
"Why do you not just go talk to her? The two of you seemed to get on famously this afternoon." How did Ainsley always seem to appear at Alex's side without making a sound? It was almost eerie.
"It was a mistake. I should never have led her to believe I was interested." Alex swirled the lemonade in his glass.
"What are you prattling on about? You are interested." Ainsley held up a hand to stop the protest forming on Alex's lips. "I'm not completely bacon-brained. Which I would have to be to not notice your feelings for her."
"Perhaps. But even so, I'm the last person she should form an attachment to. I'll only end up hurting her."
Panic rose up in him when she stood and made her way toward them. "Good evening, Lord Ainsley, Lord Grayson."
Ainsley bowed over her hand. "And to you, Miss Marleigh."
Alex gave a slight bow and turned to escape.
"My lord? Are you still unwell from your accident this afternoon?" Was she worried about him?
Alex stopped, his eyes closing. What could he say? If he feigned illness, he would only be prolonging the inevitable. And would it not be crueler to let her believe there could be an attachment? The longer he delayed, the more hurt he would cause.
"I am well enough, Miss Marleigh. Thank you for inquiring." He faced forward again and limped briskly to the other side of the room.
Sir Richard stood against the wall, listening to Lord Pemberly gabbing on about the decline of civilization.
Sir Richard's gaze slid across the room, watching everyone and everything.
Alex slipped up next to him and Sir Richard excused himself from the conversation. He looked straight ahead, but his words were directed at Alex. "You have hurt her. I should call you out for it." His voice was low and angry.
"It was not my intention." Alex placed both hands on the alabaster ball atop his stick. "She knows."
"Yes, I am aware of your earlier meeting."
Alex shook her head. "She knows the rest. She overheard us speaking to Prinny." He leaned back onto his heels, twisting his cane into the carpet.
"I should think that would make things easier for her—for both of you. Her belief that you were...of questionable character was the only thing keeping her from forming an attachment." He dipped his head to someone who walked past. "That barrier has been removed. Which begs the question, why did you dismiss her?"
Alex thought his throat may close up entirely with how tight it felt. "I saw Andrews in town when I was with Miss Marleigh."
Sir Richard's head jerked around. "And I am only now hearing of this?"
Alex shrugged. "I tried to find you earlier, but then there was the accident in the gig…." His voice trailed off.
"Did he recognize you?"
Alex shook his head. "Not then. But it doesn't follow he won't figure it out, given a chance to think it through."
Sir Richard licked his lips, his head nodding. "So you shun her for her own protection?"
"What choice do I have?" His mouth felt like it did when he had drifted into Portsmouth in the dinghy.
"My apologies. You did not deserve my earlier disdain." Sir Richard looked at him sideways. "You love her, don't you?"
Alex rubbed at his chin. "Yes. I believe I do." His voice hitched. "I can't be responsible for something happening to her. I would rather see her hurt by my callousness then killed as revenge."
"It's a nasty business we have gotten you into, Grayson."
Alex nodded. “I must take responsibility for my own hand in this mess.” Alex thumped his stick into the floor, releasing a frustrated sigh. "I can't stay here and watch her. I will be in my chambers if you need me.”
Alex slipped out the nearby door but was stopped in the hallway not two doors down.
“Are you retiring for the evening, my lord?” Miss Marleigh’s gaze bounced from her feet to his face and back.
“Yes, I am in need of rest after the incident this afternoon.” Alex wanted to reach out and touch her, wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be well. But he couldn’t, because he knew it was a lie.
She bit her lower lip. Raising her eyes to meet his, she drew up and squared her shoulders. “What did I do? Why did you dismiss me in there?” Her head jerked toward the parlor. “Did I say something or do something to change your opinion of me? It seems every man here feels as you do.”
Alex released a heavy sigh. The pain in her voice was too much to bare. “You did nothing.”
“Then why? I don’t understand.” Her voice hitched and her gaze returned to her slippers.
“I saw a man from my crew in town yesterday.”
Her head tilted to the side and her brow crinkled.
“If he should recognize me, you would be in danger because of our association. Should discover my feelings for you…” Alex swallowed hard.
Her eyes jerked upwards, locking on his. “Your feelings?”
Alex grabbed at his chin. “I love you, Abigail.”
A quiet gasp escaped her lips even as a smile began to form.
“But there is nothing for it. I will not endanger you. The risk is too great.”
Her smile dropped and a quiver took its place. “Never? But surely—”
Alex cut her off. “Never.” He turned to walk away but stopped and pulled the brown package from inside his coat. “I got this for you. In case it was gone on your return trip.”
She turned the package over in her hands, but her gaze never left his face.
Alex turned and walked down the hallway, feeling lonelier than her ever had before.
Chapter 20
Abigail sat at end of the pew, the aisle to one side and Clara on the other. She looked up at the timber ceiling, the stone walls butting up against the wood. The room was flooded with light from the large windows on either side of the church. Miss Woodbury and Miss Stowe sat next to the exterior wall, their view of the vicar obstructed by the large, stone arch separating the nave from the chancel.
The guests from the Garvey's house party filled the small church to capacity. Abigail wondered if the regular parish members were attending church elsewhere, or if another service had been scheduled.
A rustling from the front brought Abigail's eyes to the older vicar standing behind the pulpit. The stained-glass window behind him shone brightly, beams of red, yellow and blue filtering down onto his balding head.
Movement behind her distracted her from focusing on the vicar's sermon.
"What are you about? My four-year-old nephew maintains better manners in church than you. Your leg has not stopped bouncing since the vicar started speaking," Lord Ainsley whispered loudly.
Abigail glanced back and saw him place a hand on Lord Grayson's leg, pushing it to a stop.
Of all the guests at the Garvey’s party, why must Lord Grayson be the one to sit behind her? Was there no place she could escape him? Even her dreams had been filled with his handsome face.
"Beg your pardon," Lord Grayson whispered. "It must have something to do with reopening my stitches."
Abigail swallowed hard and made the pretense of rubbing her cheek against her shoulder. She just needed a peek at him. He looked very handsome today. His hair was still slightly wet, curling up around his ears.
She turned back around, a sudden despair crashing down on her. There were only three days left in the house party and it was almost certain she would not leave with a match. She had believed she would not only come away with a
match, but a love match. Now that the possibly had all but vanished, her uncle would surely follow through on his threats and force her to marry Sir Charles. When she thought on it, Abigail felt as if she was downing, being pushed farther into the depths of the sea.
Even if she did receive an offer from another gentleman, she could never be truly happy with a marriage of convenience now that she knew what it felt like to love and be loved.
A few errant tears formed in her eyes and she swiped angrily at them with a handkerchief. Get a hold of yourself Abigail, she chided herself quietly. She had known what her fate would likely be before she ever set out for Havencrest. She could not bemoan it, now that it was actually going to happen.
Clara swiveled slightly in her seat and cast an icy glare behind her. She put her arm around Abigail's shoulders, whispering into her ear. "All will be well, Abi. You will see."
Abigail nodded. It wouldn’t be as she had dreamed of late, but she needed to start preparing herself for the inevitable. She would be marrying Sir Charles.
Finally, the service came to an end and Abigail stood, anxious to leave the confines of the church and get out into the fresh air. She needed some distance from Lord Grayson. It was only in her imagination, but she could almost feel his stare boring into her back through the entire service.
She tried not to look at him as she passed, but she couldn't help herself. She glanced over and his gaze met hers.
Her heart raced and she reluctantly pulled her eyes away, lamenting what could have not be.
Clara led her down the aisle and out to the churchyard. They walked about the gravestones, each in a different stage of decay. Abigail stopped in front of one, but her mind didn't comprehend what she was reading.
She heard the light footfalls behind them. Please, let it be him.
"May I escort you ladies back to the house?"
Abigail let out a stuttering breath as she recognized the voice of Lord Ainsley.
Clara placed a comforting hand on Abigail's arm, but it did little to relieve the hurt and disappointment she felt.
Miss Marleigh's Pirate Lord (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 1) Page 15
