by Unknown
She frowned and wrung her hands together.
“If your grandmother approves of me, why can’t you?” he added.
She lifted her gaze to his. “How do you know about my grandmother? How do you know what she told me?”
Nick shook his head. “I will tell you when the time is right, but not now. You’re too distraught over your father’s death to understand.”
Tears filled Abby’s eyes and she shook her head. “I don’t want to trust you, but there’s a part of me that does.”
She would trust him in time, and his heart soared at that knowledge. He cupped her face in his hands and stroked her cheeks, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “I won’t hurt you, Abby. I’m here to protect you. Please believe me. I’m not going to let anyone harm you.”
She grasped his wrists but didn’t pull his hands away. Her eyes pleaded with him. “Promise me,” she whispered.
“On my father’s grave.”
She sniffed. “Your father is dead too?”
“Yes.”
“Then we understand each other.”
Nick nodded. “In more ways than you realize.”
She pulled away and wiped her eyes. “If you’ll put the lantern back and extinguish it, I’ll show you into the house. You can stay in one of the guest rooms.”
Doing as she instructed, he blew out the lantern and placed it back on the shelf. After they exited the barn, he closed the double wooden doors. Abby shivered, then rubbed her palms up and down her arms as she kept in step beside him. Nick shrugged out of the late Mr. Downey’s jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
She tilted her head to look up at him. “Thank you.”
“Any time, Abby,” he said softly.
As they walked toward the house, Nick noticed her stealing glances at him. He grinned. Soon he’d convince her to trust him, and if all went well, she’d fall in love with him all over again.
“Mr. Marshal, why do you call me Abby when I specifically asked you not to?”
He shrugged. “Abby fits you, I think. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop. But when I say that name, it’s like an endearment, and I want you to know how much I care.”
Even in the near darkness, he thought he could see her cheeks turn pink.
“My father used to call me Abby when I was young.” “Used to? Why did he stop?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Marshal. Perhaps he thought the name Abigail was more mature.”
They’d reached the back door to the house, and he opened it for her. Just as she passed him, he took hold of her arm, stopping her. “I would love for you to call me Nick. Mr. Marshal was my father. I’m just Nick.”
“I don’t feel right calling you by your given name, but if you wish—”
“I do.” He took her hands in his and squeezed them.
Abby stared at him for several long moments, appearing to study his lips. He wanted to kiss her but couldn’t allow himself to do so yet. She’d barely met him, and women in her time followed the rules of propriety.
“Come with me, Nick. I’ll show you to your bedroom.”
The sun peaked through the curtains and woke Abigail. Groggily, she opened her eyes and glanced around the room. She wouldn’t see her father today, or ever again. She felt empty, like a hollow shell. Would this feeling ever disappear?
As she sat up in bed, her thoughts quickly turned to her house guest. What had possessed her to invite a total stranger to stay with her without the servants present? He was certainly handsome, but that shouldn’t make her lose all common sense.
She got out of bed and moved to the water basin. She’d lain awake most of the night thinking about the man down the hall. He was so tender and kind—and so incredibly charming—that she’d nearly swooned a time or two. Yet she couldn’t become attached to him, because as soon as Harry discovered Nick was staying at her house, he would find a way to get him arrested.
Abigail hurried through her toiletry. She would go downstairs to see her guest, and she would make the best of the situation. Hopefully, Harry would not come to check on her today.
She brushed her hair and began winding it into a fashionable bun. Then she remembered Nick had said he loved her hair long. How would he know? They’d just met. Nevertheless, she decided to leave her hair down, only pulling the sides back with pearl-encrusted combs. All of her life she’d been proper, but she no longer needed to follow society’s rules. She was an independent woman—or would be as soon as she figured out how to become one.
Once she dressed in her black silk mourning gown, she hurried downstairs to start breakfast. It’d been a while since she’d entertained a guest, but since the servants had the day off, she’d have to do the cooking herself. Just before she reached the kitchen, the heavenly scent of griddlecakes and bacon wafted through the air. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the large kitchen. Nick stood at the stove, cooking bacon in one frying pan and griddlecakes in another. Abigail smiled. Most men she knew wouldn’t lower themselves to cook a meal, let alone admit they knew their way around the kitchen.
He wore the same shirt and trousers he’d worn the night before, but his vest and jacket were missing. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and Abigail had to force herself not to stare at his muscular arms.
“Good morning,” she greeted.
He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “It is a good morning, Abby. And you are certainly giving the beautiful sunrise competition today. You look absolutely breathtaking.”
“Thank you.” She stepped closer and ran her hand down her dress, wishing she were wearing something prettier.
She nodded toward the stove. “Would you like some help?”
“Sure. Which one do you want, bacon or pancakes?” “Did you say pancakes? What are those?” Abigail asked. “Uh, what do you call them?”
“Griddlecakes.”
“All right then. Do you prefer bacon or griddlecakes?” “I prefer flipping the griddlecakes.”
He handed her the spatula and winked. “Good, because I was never good at flipping.”
Not a lot was said as they finished cooking breakfast. For some reason, Abigail felt tongue-tied around Nick. During the meal, he made her smile more times than she could count, and his flirtatious winks melted her heart. Even though he was still a stranger, she took pleasure in his company, and she realized she felt more at ease around him than she did around Harry.
After they ate, Nick shocked her by helping her wash the dishes. She had planned to let the kitchen servants do them the next day, but Nick was adamant about getting them done.
Once the kitchen was clean, he walked by her side as they moved to the parlor. Abigail sat on the sofa, and he took the space right next to her. It pleased her to know he wanted to sit by her, since there were three other chairs in the room.
“So, Nick, what kind of solicitor are you?”
“An extremely good one.” He grinned.
“I’m serious,” she replied, stifling a chuckle.
He crossed one leg over the other while resting his arm on the back of the sofa. His fingertips were only a few inches from her shoulder.
“When I first started, I practiced criminal law. But now I enjoy the other aspects of that profession.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking what you’re working on now,” Abigail said.
“Of course I don’t.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m actually trying to solve a murder.”
She gaped. “Surely you’re jesting.”
“No.”
“But solicitors don’t solve murders. They just represent clients that have done the deed.”
“And in this case it’s a little of both. The murder was made to look like a suicide. I’m trying to prove it wasn’t.”
She nodded. “That sounds very intriguing. Anyone I know?”
Nick didn’t answer right away but stared at her. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know if you know the woman or not. However, you mig
ht be able to tell me something that could help my case.”
“Oh, yes! I would love to help.” Abigail had read many suspense novels, and she always enjoyed figuring out the story.
“Do you know a woman by the name of Cassandra Brown?”
Abigail pondered the name. “Forgive me, but I don’t think I have heard of her before.”
“How about Anthony Carlisle? I was told he’s your cousin.”
“Ah, yes. He is.”
“Do you know where he lives? I would love to ask him a few questions about the case.”
She frowned and shook her head. “My father and I have not been very close to that side of the family for a few years. Last I’d heard, Uncle Alexander took his wife and son and moved to San Diego, but I couldn’t be certain.”
“Your uncle was at the funeral, right?”
“You are correct. He didn’t speak to me much, and I’ve forgotten what little he did say,” Abigail explained. “My whole body was numb yesterday, as was my mind.”
“I understand. I was the same way after my father died.”
“How long did it take before those feelings of loneliness disappeared?”
Nick scooted closer and placed his hand on her shoulder. “The key to helping those feelings go away is to keep busy. Your father wouldn’t want you to sulk all day and mourn him forever. He’d want you to live your life the best way you could.”
Tears stung her eyes. Nick’s words were so comforting. Would it be too bold of her to wrap her arms around him, to find solace in his embrace?
He lifted his other hand to cup her face, but she grasped it. “Oh, Nick. I’m so afraid. I’ve never been alone before. Father has always been here for me. He’s always provided everything I need. Now, all of a sudden, I’m an heiress to all of his lands and holdings. I don’t know what to do. He’s sheltered me so long, I fear I’m not capable of making any decisions. And if I do make them, will they be the wrong ones?”
“Have faith in yourself, Abby,” Nick said softly. “You’re an intelligent woman. You’re going to know the right thing to do.”
His finger slowly caressed her cheek. She held her breath, relishing his touch and wishing he would kiss her. He pulled her close to him as if he could read her mind, but just as his lips brushed against hers, a loud knock sounded on the front door.
Abigail could barely catch her breath as she stood. “Please forgive me, but I must get the door.”
Nick nodded. “Would your reputation be ruined if people knew I was staying here?”
Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Yes, of course.”
He rose beside her and kissed her hand. “Then I will hide. Don’t say a word of my presence to anyone.”
As he hurried out of the room, Abigail thought, What a wonderful man—how kind and thoughtful.
Now, she had to find out who was at the door and get rid of them.
Seventeen
A male voice rumbled through the quiet house, and Nick peeked around the corner to see who it was. Harry Westland—the very man Nick loathed and didn’t trust. He studied Harry as the man spoke to Abby. Should Nick put her father’s best friend on the suspects list? Why would Harry want to kill Abby?
“Thank you for coming to check on me, Harry, but I assure you, I’m fine. I have dismissed the servants for the day.”
The older man frowned. “What? You gave them all the day off? What were you thinking?”
Abby huffed. “I’m thinking how devastated my servants are because their employer died. I’m thinking that I would like some peace and quiet also, and to mourn in my own way.” She planted her hands on her hips. “So if you don’t mind, I would like to be alone today.”
Harry took a step into the house and grabbed her hand. “Please let me stay with you. I don’t think you should be alone at a time like this.”
“Once again Harry, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. All the doors are locked, and I don’t plan on leaving. I’m going to get some much needed rest, and perhaps catch up on my reading.”
“What will you do about your meals?”
“I have survived just fine cooking breakfast. I’m quite certain I can handle the other meals on my own.”
Harry shook his head and stepped closer. Nick was waiting for the man to make one more move before he pounced on him.
“What’s wrong with you, Abigail? You’re acting differently. Is something amiss?” He looked around the room.
Nick quickly flattened himself against the wall of the adjoining room, making sure he was out of sight.
“Nothing is wrong, I assure you.” Abby wrung her hand free and pushed him toward the door. “If it will make you feel better, you can camp outside my front door and protect me from intruders. Better yet, stay in your motorcar and keep watch over the house. I’m certain my father would be proud of you for trying to protect me.”
Harry frowned. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Now please leave before I become very upset.”
Harry kissed Abby’s forehead. “Lock the door when I leave.”
“I had planned on it.”
Once she closed the door, she rested against it and smiled. Then she peeked out the side window until the sound of the car’s engine slowly faded. She turned around, her eyes twinkling. “You can come out now, Nick.”
He stepped back into the living room, and it took every ounce of control not to run to her, take her in his arms, and continue the kiss they’d started. Instead, he decided to let her lead the way. When she was ready, he’d be there. He chuckled as he walked toward her. “Harry is one difficult man. Has he always been this overbearing?”
“Always. I used to think he was trying to be like a big brother or something, which in a way was rather endearing. Now I believe he’s very troublesome, and I wish he’d stop acting like a mother hen.”
Nick laughed. “Me too, but for entirely different reasons.”
She slipped her hand around his elbow and gazed up into his eyes. “What would you like to do today?”
“What would you like us to do?” Nick asked.
“I would like to get to know you better,” Abby said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
He touched her cheek. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I encourage it.”
“Would you like to walk around the estate? There are several places on the property that are very private, where we won’t be disturbed.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Abby led the way, and as they walked by the flower garden, she pointed to the roses.
“My mother used to tend the garden religiously until she became sick and died. During her last hours, Father promised her he would always keep the garden beautiful with a variety of flowers and plants, just the way she liked. He told Mother it would keep her memory alive.” Abby’s voice quivered slightly, but she continued to smile.
“Your father definitely kept his promise. The garden is very beautiful.”
She guided Nick toward the barn. “Father’s favorite thing to do was ride his horse. Although he bought several motorcars, there were days when he would rather ride his horse to work. His employees laughed at him for doing this, but Father didn’t let it bother him. Even though he made money and lived in the big city, he was still a country boy at heart.”
Nick chuckled. “I wish I could have gotten to know him.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Me too. He would have really liked you.”
“Do you think so?” Nick asked hopefully.
“Oh, yes. You have that kind of charisma that makes people want to be around you.”
He stroked Abby’s fingers, which still grasped his elbow. “Just as long as you continue to believe that, then I’ll be happy.”
They strolled by a small pond. Frogs croaked and insects chirped, and everything seemed so peaceful. Soon they reached a gazebo that was almost completely hidden by a canopy of tall shrubbery and trees. Nick sat beside Abby on the bench. Although the scenery was spectacular, the w
oman next to him was prettier than anything he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He still couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream—that Abby was finally real! A lock of hair had fallen across her temple, and he gently pushed it back.
“Nick, I’m really enjoying myself with you today,” she said softly.
“I’m having a wonderful time too.”
“I’m quite shocked, however, considering I don’t know that much about you.”
Nick took her hand in his and caressed each finger slowly. “Do I frighten you?”
Abby smiled and shook her head. “If you did, I wouldn’t be here with you now. In fact, I would have allowed Harry to stay.”
He chuckled. “Thank goodness for small miracles, right?”
“I don’t know what it is, but—” She hesitated. “I feel safe with you. I feel as if I’ve known you a long time.”
“That’s how I feel.”
“My father would be turning over in his grave if he knew I was alone with a strange man.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Am I really that strange?”
“Only in the nicest terms.” She giggled. “Although, I have to admit, I’d never seen anything like the suit you wore at the funeral. Several people commented how they’d never seen a suit made of such fabric.”
Nick shrugged. “I thought it looked rather good on me.”
She leaned closer and laid her hand on his chest. “I’m certain you’d look good in most anything.”
“Well now, Miss Carlisle. That’s quite a bold compliment.”
She blushed. “I know. I don’t understand myself lately. I’ve been acting out of sorts, and since meeting you, I find myself saying things that are not proper.”
He took her hand from his chest and kissed her fingertips. “If that is improper, then I like how improper you are.”
“Indeed?” she whispered.
“Oh, yes.”
As he stared at Abby, he wished she’d lean in and kiss him. But women of her era didn’t make the first move, he remembered suddenly. He lifted her hand again, but instead of her fingers, he pressed his lips against her palm.
“Nick?”
