Lord James and his bride (The Duke's Brothers Book 1)

by Fiona Miers

  “I am truly sorry for your loss,” James said, and he realised that he was not only referring to the passing of her father, but also her failed engagement.

  Not that he was willing to admit to knowing such a thing. Not yet.

  She glanced up at him, her dark eyes shining. “Thank you, James. And I must thank you as well for having a companion sent to our townhouse to care for my mother while I go out with you,” Abigail said.

  “You are most welcome. I must admit, I could not stop thinking of you since the soiree at the estate,” James said.

  Abigail’s lips parted, and James fought the desire to embrace her and kiss her passionately. The lustful thoughts inside him were intense, making his belly tighten and his groin throb. But he did not wish to expose that side of him to her. Not yet.

  He didn’t want to give her the impression he was merely a rake wanting to use her for his own pleasure, because he wasn’t.

  “Admittedly, you left quite an... impression on me as well, and I am not referring to your lack of clothing when you came to my mother’s aid,” Abigail said and her cheeks flushed with a pretty pink hue, making her seem younger and even more innocent.

  James grinned.

  The coach came to a stop and James climbed out and held out his hand to assist Abigail out of the coach.

  Her gloved hand connected with his and he held her tightly.

  Although he’d been to the Assembly Rooms many times in the past before he’d left to serve his country, seeing Abigail’s eyes sparkle as she stared up at the building that stood before them caused him to see things a little differently.

  Fresher. Brighter. Happier.

  “Are you ready?” James asked.

  Abigail nodded excitedly. She lightly placed her hand on his and he escorted her into the building, proud she was on his arm.

  James introduced Abigail to all the guests whom he knew. He wished to make her feel appreciated and important, which surprised him.

  James had never felt this way about a woman before. Her happiness and comfort were a priority for him.

  He had not anticipated experiencing these feelings, or that it was even possible for him to feel such emotions anymore. During the war, James had been convinced his emotional state had been destroyed after he’d seen soldiers in his regiment being shot at, killed by the French army.

  He’d come home so dead inside, so devoid of feeling, he’d been certain his emotions had died a quick death during those first few months. But the intensity of his feelings for Abigail had grown significantly the past few days.

  Not dead yet.

  As they sat down on the seats in the smallest of the rooms, various poets read their works to the audience. Randomly, James glanced at Abigail, who was utterly enthralled by the words spoken. Her eyes sparkled, and on more than occasion, James noticed the dreamy expression on her beautiful face and wondered what she was thinking.

  Her gaze met his and a smile formed on her lips.

  “Are you having a pleasant time so far?”

  “I am. Thank you, James,” Abigail said softly, and much to his surprise, she placed her hand on his arm.

  It was a light gesture, but it rippled along his skin like the water when a stone was thrown in a pond, unsettling what was once still.

  Her hand remained on his arm for a few moments longer as the poet continued to read, and a shiver ran down James’s spine.

  Although he’d spent time with many women before—what son of a duke hadn’t—not a single one of those women, both light skirts and widows alike, had made him feel the mixture of sensations he now entertained.

  He felt perfectly at ease, yet incredibly anxious. His heart raced, but Abigail’s presence calmed him more than he ever thought it would.

  Such a strange effect.

  “You seem distracted, James,” Abigail said to him.

  He smiled. If only she knew.

  “Even the most lyrical poetry can’t keep my attention when I am sitting next to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” James said in return.

  Abigail’s cheeks flushed again, and she lowered her gaze. “Your words flatter me.”

  “I speak only the truth, Abigail,” James said and leaned in closer to her, providing a bit more privacy between them, although it was not much. “There is something of which I cannot stop thinking.”

  “And what is that?” she asked.

  “You declined my invitation at first, to join me this evening. Why is that?”

  Abigail pursed her lips briefly and gazed into James’ eyes. “I was convinced that there was someone better suited to accompany you than I.”

  “There is not a single more fitting person, that I can assure you,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You truly mean that, James?”

  “On my word as a gentleman,” he swore and leaned in even closer to Abigail. “Come, Abigail. Let us prove while we may, the sport of love. Time will not be ours forever.”

  James had remembered that prose from the book of poems in his bedchamber, and there was no better moment than the present to recite it to Abigail.

  It certainly proved effective, as Abigail’s lips parted once more, and James was certain he heard a soft gasp emerge from her throat.

  Chapter Ten

  Abigail stared at the lord beside her, her heart pounding in her chest as the applause rose inside the assembly room. The poet had apparently finished his recitation, and yet her eyes were intently fixed on James. She couldn’t drag her gaze away from him.

  His words still lingered in the air around her and her skin tingled with every strained breath she took.

  When the applause faded, Abigail lowered her gaze, reluctantly. Without speaking another word, they stood and departed the Assembly Rooms.

  They walked to the coach and she bit her lip to stop it trembling. She had to say something to break the silence.

  “It was a lovely evening. I enjoyed it very much,” Abigail eventually said, after deliberating on her choice of words.

  She didn’t wish to sound too eager, but she doubted she’d achieved that. Her breath kept hitching in her throat and she couldn’t stop the smile that lifted her lips on both sides.

  “Spending time with you, regardless of the activity, is delightful,” James said. “And what you said to me earlier— your feeling unworthy to be in my company—could not be further from the truth.”

  “But I am not the daughter of a titled man. My family is not at all wealthy and I have no dowry,” Abigail said as they reached the coach.

  This was something that weighed on her, for several reasons. One of them was because she feared that these misgivings, over which she had no control, would affect the way James viewed her.

  “Your nobility, or the lack thereof, does not matter. It is your heart that makes you who you are. Not the family in which you were born.”

  Abigail’s heart began to race at James’s words and at that moment, she felt her defences lower like the drawbridge on a castle opening. Much to her better judgement, Abigail realized she was developing very strong feelings for James.

  A man she barely knew.

  But at the same time, it felt like she had known him her entire life. It was a strange feeling to Abigail, but deep inside her heart, she trusted that intuition.

  “Your words ease my troubled mind, James. My mother seems to think otherwise. She wishes me to marry a highly titled and respected man from a wealthy family—”

  “But that is not what you want, is it?”

  “I am not certain what I want, to be utterly honest.”

  “And why is that?”

  Abigail sighed. “It is a rather annoying and sad tale.” And it was probably time she told him, if they were to have any sort of future together.

  “You don’t need to speak of it if you are not comfortable.”

  That was not relevant. It was the right thing to do. “Thank you, James. I will share it with you soon, I am sure. But not this evening.”

&n
bsp; “I respect your decision,” James said. “And I wish to thank you for respecting mine.”

  “Regarding?”

  “Telling my tales of war. I am not yet ready to open up to anyone about it. It was a traumatic time and I suppose... I am still processing it all.”

  “You are fully entitled to process it for as long as you need,” Abigail said and chuckled bitterly “Although my tale is not nearly as traumatic as yours, I am also not ready to share.”

  “It seems we both have a story of our own war.”

  Abigail smiled sadly and nodded. “It would seem so.”

  There were a few moments of silence in the coach and it was not in the least bit uncomfortable. They remained quiet for the rest of their journey back to her family’s townhouse, with the occasional exchange of glances between them.

  When the coach came to a stop, a wave of disappointment crashed over Abigail. It was due to her expectation of being kissed by James and thus far being disappointed. She didn’t wish for this evening to end but there wasn’t a thing she was able to do to stop it from ending.

  Or was there?

  The sky was dark blue and the stars sparkled overhead as Abigail stepped onto the footpath that led to the front steps of the townhouse, with James walking beside her.

  “I truly had a wonderful evening, Abigail,” James said. “It certainly is a pity it must come to an end.”

  A grin slowly formed on Abigail’s lips as she briefly glanced at the front door and turned back to James. “Perhaps it does not need to end.”

  James’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

  “Would you care to join me for a nightcap?” she asked, her nervous breath catching in her throat.

  James gazed at her, then raised a single eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

  Abigail wasn’t certain of what his answer would be. She didn’t want him to think she wished to lead him into her home and seduce him, as that was not the case.

  Not entirely.

  Her mother and the companion James had sent were inside the townhouse, ensuring they were not left alone.

  “It would not be proper. Imagine what people would say if they were to learn of this.” Her mother’s words echoed through her mind, but she chose to ignore them.

  “That sounds lovely,” James said, and he flashed a handsome smile at her.

  “Wonderful.” She giggled softly and James followed her to the front door.

  The candles still burned in the parlour as Abigail led James inside and she peered into the room. Her mother was casually and comfortably seated on the longer chaise, her feet resting on the far end and her elbow resting on the armrest.

  She read from one of her favourite books, one Abigail recognised immediately. Her father had read that specific book aloud to her mother on countless occasions, and it was very dear to her.

  “Good evening, Mother,” Abigail said as she entered the parlour.

  “Good evening, dear. How was your evening? Undoubtedly marvellous, especially in the presence of—”

  Abigail cleared her throat and her mother finally looked up from her book. Her eyes widened and she pushed herself up from the chaise. “Lord James.”

  “James will do just fine, Mrs. Roth.”

  “If I had been informed you would be stopping by, I would have ensured I was appropriately dressed for guests.” Her mother glared briefly in Abigail’s direction as she clutched her woollen shawl against the thin fabric of her nightdress.

  “Nonsense, Mrs. Roth. I do not wish to inconvenience you. After all, I had not planned to make an appearance. Abigail invited me on a whim,” James said, and glanced at her.

  Stomach twisting, she smiled at her mother. “I do hope that is all right, Mother.”

  “Of course,” she said. After all, she really didn’t have any other choice. “Welcome to our home... James. If there is anything you require, please tell me.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Roth. That is most gracious of you.”

  Her mother nodded and returned to her position on the chaise, only in a much more proper manner. “Perhaps you and James can sit by the hearth and play cards.” She motioned to the low table and two chairs that stood beside the hearth, where she and Abigail would play cards.

  It had been a while since they had done so, and it made Abigail’s heart happy that her mother approved of James taking her place.

  Perhaps this had been her plan all along?

  Abigail nodded at her mother’s suggestion, although it was precisely what Abigail had in mind.

  “That sounds lovely,” James said. “I have not played cards since I was a boy.”

  “Is that so?” Abigail said as she retrieved the deck of cards from the mantle and they sat at the low table.

  “Thomas, my youngest brother, and I would play into the night, and more often than not, until the sun rose.”

  “My father and I did so as well. We shared many laughs around this table,” Abigail said, running her hand lightly over the smooth wood.

  She cocked her head. She had not spoken very much of her father’s passing, especially not to her mother. There had been many heartaches the past years for her, and often she had felt very alone. Especially after her father’s death.

  Despite adoring her mother, Abigail had a much closer relationship with her father growing up. She spoke to him about things she did not dare speak to her mother about.

  Now that he had passed, sometimes she truly felt alone. She told her mother things that were mundane and not life-altering, but always kept her most intimate feelings and heartaches hidden. Buried in the chambers of her heart, hoping some day she would possess the strength to process them.

  “Abigail?”

  James’ voice pulled her out of her musings. She lifted her gaze and stared at him from behind her lashes.

  “Another hand?” James asked.

  She nodded without a word.

  “Shall I deal?” he asked, and motioned to the cards in her hand.

  Abigail glanced down and only then realized how her hand was shaking. “Please do.”

  She placed the deck of cards in his palm, her fingers lightly touching his skin and a shiver ran down her spine.

  The image of James from the beach, naked, flashed before her eyes. There was nothing more she wished to do than kiss him at that very moment, even while her mother was present.

  James shuffled the cards quite skilfully. Abigail watched, enthralled by every movement of his hands.

  Those hands that had touched her cheeks so gently yet had also fired a rifle in battle.

  After passing some time playing and James sharing amusing tales of his childhood, he stared at her for a few moments before lowering his gaze.

  “Abigail, there is something I must ask.”

  “Ask me anything, James.”

  James drew in a deep breath and cocked his head at her. “There will be a picnic at the estate in a few days, and I would very much like it if you attended as my guest. It will not be a very large affair, I can promise you that. It is much more intimate and mostly family. It would mean the world to me if you would accept my invitation.”

  Abigail’s lips parted with surprise and she glanced at her mother, who was doing a rather poor job at pretending she was not listening to their conversation. “Will that be all right, Mother? Shall I request Dotty to—”

  “There is no need. I have seen James is a very fine gentleman and that he will ensure you return to the townhouse safely. Isn’t that so, James?” her mother said.

  “Of course. I promise that no harm with come to your daughter and I will return her safely after the conclusion of the picnic,” James answered.

  “Then it is up to Abigail to have the final word in this conversation,” her mother said.

  James turned to Abigail, and she was unable to contain her glee-filled heart. “James, I would love nothing more than to accompany you to the picnic at the estate.”

  Her heart began to race with excitement as James’ eyes lit
up from her answer.

  Chapter Eleven

  The picnic at the lake at his brother’s estate had not turned out as intimate as James would have liked. He had hoped he would have Abigail to himself, or at least to some degree so they could get to know each other without the prying eyes of the town.

  But Charles had once again invited more people than he had promised. Somehow, James was not in the least surprised. Unfortunately, Charles had a tendency to over-plan things. He would insist that an event would include only relatives and close friends, but then there would be people James had never even heard of in attendance.

  Charles was merely one of those kinds of people. Perhaps he had the heart of a socialite hidden underneath his broad shoulders and tense demeanour.

  Or perhaps there was another explanation? A reason that had deeper roots than anyone realized. Perhaps it was his need to surround himself with people in order to distract him from his problems?

  James cocked his head as he watched Abigail and her friend Julia giggling happily as they played a gentle game of croquet. The two young women smiled happily as they shared their amusement for something. James couldn’t tell what their amusement revolved around as he stood on the other side of the lawn.

  But he was very much enjoying seeing her smile and hearing her laugh. Abigail’s skin was radiant in the sunlight, and her pale blue suited her complexion and dark hair.

  As much as James craved time with her privately, social convention dictated otherwise. He didn’t wish to embarrass her, either.

  A smile formed on James’s lips as he continued to watch Abigail from where he stood. He did not even notice the presence of another person until they spoke.

  “It is impolite to stare so shamelessly at her.”

  James tore his gaze away from Abigail and looked at Emma, who stood beside him with a grin on her face.

  He shrugged. “I cannot seem to help myself. She is easy on the eyes and a delight to watch.”

  “She certainly is beautiful. And witty and intelligent. What on earth could she possibly see in you?” Emma said with a chuckle. “Pardon my giggly state.”