by Meara Platt
His mother!
And now she and Sophie and Lady Coventry were fawning over Abby.
Damn it, his mother’s smile was as bright as a sunbeam.
Coventry came up to him and began to speak quietly. “I’m sorry, my boy. I know I went about this in a heavy-handed manner. But I was only thinking of Abby. You wish to protect her, don’t you?”
Tynan’s jaw had been clenched, and his response came out clipped and tense. “Of course.”
“Then let your family help. They need do nothing more than welcome her as a friend.”
Tynan grunted. “That’s already been accomplished. Didn’t take long. Sophie looks upon her like a long lost sister. Look at my mother, she’s already halfway in love with her.”
Coventry place a hand on his shoulder. “And what about you, Tynan? How do you feel about the girl?”
He shot Coventry a scowl and walked away.
Hell, he was a wicked earl.
He wasn’t some pimple-arsed schoolboy who fell in love with anything in skirts.
He was cynical and experienced and never one to be led around by the nose.
And yet… it was as though this girl had found the big, gaping hole in his defenses and leaped straight through.
Abby, his innocent little rabbit, was burrowing her way into his heart.
He didn’t know how to stop her.
Or if he wanted to stop her.
CHAPTER TEN
“LORD WESTCLIFF, I’D give anything for a family like yours,” Abby said once the tea was over and Tynan was taking her home in his carriage. Sally sat with them, so Abby was careful not to speak of anything too personal. But heaping praise on his family wasn’t too much, was it? “They are simply wonderful. I know that you did not expect them to be present, but I really enjoyed my time in their company.”
He grunted.
She smiled at him.
He frowned at her, but couldn’t hide the hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his nicely shaped lips.
He obviously loved his family, but he was purposely keeping his distance from them and had done so for several years. Abby was curious to know the reason, for they all appeared to get along. She hadn’t heard of any dark secrets or simmering feuds. His brothers and Romulus were out of hand, at times. But they were still young men at that stage in their lives when they wanted independence but were too immature to handle it. “How old were you when you took over responsibilities as earl?”
At first, she thought he wouldn’t answer.
She did not press him for a response, and thought he’d forgotten the question by the time they arrived at her home. Sally took their cloaks and then left them to their privacy. Abby’s first thought was to look in on Peter. “Do you mind, Tynan?”
“Not at all. I’ll join you.”
She knocked softly on Peter’s door and was relieved when it quickly opened. “Vickers, how is he?”
“Hanging on, Miss Abigail. He’s been quiet ever since that nasty dustup this morning.”
She breathed a sigh and then tiptoed to his bed, needing to see him, even if only for a moment. Once satisfied that her brother was not in any distress, she ushered Tynan into the drawing room. “Would you care for a glass of port while we wait for Dr. Farthingale? He should be stopping by soon. Unless you’ve had enough of all of us and wish to leave. I’d certainly understand.”
He cast her a wry grin. “I’m not tired of you, Abby. It’s everyone else I wish would disappear.”
She shook her head in confusion as she settled on the sofa and watched him stride across the room to pour himself a glass of the deep ruby-colored spirits. “Why do you wish everyone else would disappear?”
This was another question she didn’t expect him to answer, but to her surprise, he settled beside her, unfastened the buttons of his jacket, and stretched his legs before him. “I took over responsibility for managing the earldom of Westcliff almost a decade ago.”
“A decade ago? You must have been younger than me at the time.”
He nodded. “The title itself descended to me from my uncle only a few months ago, upon my uncle’s death. But he was sickly for most of his adult life, and he and his wife were never able to have children. The responsibility would have fallen upon my father, but he passed away when I was eighteen. That’s when I became Viscount Grayfell, inheriting my father’s title.”
She listened, fascinated and a little surprised that he was confiding in her. Well, the matter of his father’s death as well as that of his uncle’s was public knowledge. But there was an intimacy in the way he spoke to her, and she cherished earning his trust.
“For the past decade, I’ve been managing the Westcliff and Grayfell holdings, and stepping in to help my mother raise my younger brothers whenever the need arose.”
Abby smiled. “They are a handful. I imagine you had to step in quite often in their younger years.”
He nodded. “I did, but Lord Coventry helped enormously. He saw that I was taking on more than a young man could handle, especially with my brothers, and especially while trying to make my own way through university while at the same time managing the family business affairs. He stepped in and helped me out. Most gentlemen of my age were going to balls and dinner parties and the theater, but I spent most of my earlier years trying to keep my brothers from killing each other, studying for exams, and working to turn a profit on our lands and businesses.”
She regarded him, confused. “When did you have the time to earn your sordid reputation?”
“Sordid? I prefer to think of it as rakish.”
She laughed. “Very well, rakish reputation.”
He shrugged. “Obviously not back then. I had the family obligations on my shoulders. But I was curious to find out what I’d been missing all these years. Once I had the businesses sufficiently well established and turning a profit, and my brothers were old enough to be left on their own without fear they’d burn down the manor house, I left them in my mother’s capable care and came to London to enjoy all the temptations this lively town offered.”
“I understand. You were like a coiled spring finally unwinding.” She tucked her legs under her and rested her arms on the sofa’s firm back. “I feel that way sometimes. But I don’t have any rakish desires.” She cast him an impish grin. “Other than a mild curiosity about peacock feathers.”
“Abby.” He rolled his eyes in obvious exasperation.
She held up her hands and laughingly shook her head. “I know. Sorry. I won’t raise it again, but I couldn’t help tweaking you about it. Don’t be angry with me, Tynan. I haven’t been so happy in an afternoon for such a long time. I miss what your family gave me today, the joyful chaos of a caring family. It warmed my heart as nothing else could. I hope to have that someday. I know it won’t happen before Peter is healthy again, but it’s all right. I can wait.”
He drained his glass and set it aside. “Abby, would you mind if I left before Dr. Farthingale arrives?”
“I think I’ve imposed on you more than enough for one day.” She smiled at him, hoping she hid her disappointment well. “Please don’t feel obligated to wait for him. Shall I let you know if he mentions something important? I doubt he will. I think he has my brother’s treatment well in hand.”
“Send word to me at my townhouse if anything urgent does come up. I mean it, Abby. You won’t be imposing on me.” He rose and stretched his muscled back. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Truly?” She rose along with him to see him out, her heart beating a little faster at the prospect she’d see him again. While she appreciated all Lord Coventry had agreed to do for her and her brother, there was no doubt that he’d badly overstepped this afternoon and made Tynan feel more than a little uncomfortable. Lord Coventry had said he’d done it to protect her reputation, but she was growing to care more for Tynan’s happiness than any possible taint to her name.
Tynan had held his anger in check, but she knew that he was still quietly seeth
ing and needed to be away from her in order to release his anger. It was no business of hers what he did next, and she appreciated that he did not wish to show her a lesser side of him… assuming he had one.
She thought of him as her savior.
He didn’t want to tarnish that illusion.
But she understood that his pent up frustration had to be let out. She didn’t know what he was going to do this evening. It wasn’t her place to ask. Nor did she wish to think about him in the arms of another woman. She wanted to be the one he took into his arms, but it wasn’t going to happen.
She was still innocent, and this big, handsome, wicked earl did not defile innocents.
He cupped her cheek in his big, rough hand, his touch exquisitely gentle. “Yes, Abby. I will come by tomorrow. We’ve only gone through a quarter of your list. So, plan our route and make your efficiently precise lists. I’ll come around at eleven o’clock in the morning. Does that suit you?”
She nodded. “That suits me very well.”
She felt bereft when he slipped his hand off her face, so desperate for more of his touch. She thought for a moment that he’d kiss her, but he was already in the entry hall and about to walk out the door.
Within a matter of days, she’d be on her way to Falmouth and he’d be out of her life.
Please remember me, Tynan. Please.
TYNAN STROLLED INTO the Wicked Earls’ Club and immediately began to wonder why he’d bothered to come by this evening. But he knew why. He was thinking of Abby to the point of obsession and needed something to distract his mind. Ever since meeting her, she’d not only captured his attention, but somehow held him hostage to her charms, ones she had no idea she had and no idea how to use.
She consumed his thoughts.
He shuddered to think what power she’d hold over him once she learned how to use her charms to greatest effect.
He supposed this was what troubled him most. Until Abby had come along, he’d always held the power in relations with women. He’d always wielded the control.
Not with Abby.
Yet, he wasn’t powerless over her. He knew that she liked him and was so desperate for love, that she would surrender herself to him, heart and soul, with very little effort on his part. She would be a joy to take into his bed, for she was innocent and eager, and delightfully intrigued by that peacock feather. “No, can’t bed her.”
He’d promised Coventry.
Taking her into his bed would mean having to marry her.
Bollocks.
He still felt not a hint of panic at the prospect.
Which meant he must be feverish and on the brink of delirium.
Coventry happened to walk out of his office just then. “What’s wrong, Westcliff? Not feeling well?”
Tynan dropped his hand from his forehead because he wasn’t ill. His forehead was cool to the touch and he had no convenient excuse to explain his fascination with Abby. “I’m fine,” he grumbled. “I was looking for the viscountess. A little unfinished business that Abby interrupted on the night we met.”
Coventry tossed him a sour look. “You’re going to pursue the viscountess?”
What troubled Tynan most was the look of disappointment on the old man’s face. He’d rather have his mentor angry and shouting at him. But Coventry was casting him that patient, ‘you know you’re a better man than this’ look and Tynan suddenly felt like an ungrateful child. “Yes, I’m going to pursue her. She’s safe. Married. The sex is meaningless.”
“And you’re willing to settle for that?”
Now Tynan was getting angry. “I’d pursue Abby, but you set down the rules. If I bed her, I marry her. And you know damn well that a night spent with Abby would never be meaningless to–” He turned away and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t owe Abby or you any explanations.”
“Indeed, you don’t.” Coventry had a smug look on his face. “So why do you keep mentioning her?”
“Me?” Tynan shook his head and laughed. “You’re the one who keeps…” Hell, the old man was right. Coventry had never once mentioned the girl. “I’m going home. This club is getting boring.”
He marched out and called for his carriage. The night was still young. His mother was hosting a musicale and had begged him to make an appearance. He got hives just thinking of it. Since he had nothing better to do, he decided to call on Abby.
Coventry planned to escort them to Falmouth on the day after tomorrow. He could resist her charms until then, couldn’t he?
Besides, he enjoyed the time he spent with the girl.
He’d miss her once she was gone.
Bollocks.
No, he wouldn’t… he just had to keep telling himself that.
He climbed out the moment his carriage rolled to a stop in front of her house. Her ever efficient butler, Jameson, was at the door with hands outstretched to take his cloak. To Tynan’s surprise, the man looked visibly upset. “What’s wrong? Where’s Abby?”
Drat! He ought to have referred to her as Miss Croft or Miss Abigail, but the thought of something dire happening to her… and that he hadn’t been there to help her, troubled him.
“She’s in her bedchamber, my lord. I don’t think she’ll wish to see you.”
He arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Why not?”
“We all let down our defenses. Things seemed to be going so well these past few days.”
Tynan’s heart shot into his throat. “Jameson, tell me what happened.”
“We wanted to send word to you, but Miss Abigail wouldn’t allow it.” His expression crumbled. “Her brother accidentally struck her. She’s nursing a cut lip.”
Tynan took the stairs two at a time, pausing only a moment to knock at Abby’s door before he stormed in without invitation. She was seated on a stool beside the hearth, a handkerchief pressed to one corner of her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, Abby,” he said with an agonized groan, “why didn’t you summon me?”
She turned away, obviously unwilling to face him. “You were busy. I’ve imposed on you so much already. This is just more of the same with Peter. He wants his opium and I won’t give it to him.”
She looked so vulnerable and yet so determined to press on alone. And why shouldn’t she? He was so damn busy trying to deny his feelings for her, trying to preserve his distance, his power and control, that he’d made certain to set rigid boundaries between them. Ones he would not cross and ones he would not give her permission to cross.
He was a horse’s arse.
He knelt beside her and tilted her face toward his, examining her lip by firelight. To his relief, it wasn’t cut. It wasn’t even badly bruised. Her brother must have dealt her a glancing blow, the surprise of it more shocking than the actual damage. Indeed, the swelling was hardly noticeable. Perhaps Peter had meant to strike her harder, but he hadn’t the strength yet.
What would happen when he regained his strength at Falmouth?
Tynan ran his thumb gently across the swollen corner of her mouth. “Does it hurt badly?”
“Not when you touch me.” She rubbed the sleeve of her gown against her cheeks to wipe away her tears.
He gave her a short, feather-soft kiss on the mouth.
She cast him a hesitant smile. “That doesn’t hurt either. You could never hurt me, Tynan.”
She was wrong.
He’d never physically hurt her, but he had it in his power to crush her soul. She was so vulnerable, it would take nothing for her to fall in love with him. He saw it in the dark amber glow of her eyes.
He felt her loneliness and her yearning ache for love.
He shouldn’t have come here. Yet, he wasn’t about to walk out and leave her alone to her obvious misery. “Abby, my mother is hosting a musicale this evening. Will you allow me to escort you there?”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
He touched her lip with exquisite care again. “No one will notice the light swelling. Your lips have a
natural lushness and a rose tinge to them that will hide any damage.” He grinned tenderly. “My mother will think I was avidly kissing you. You will only enhance my wicked reputation.”
She laughed. “Oh, Tynan. I know you find these entertainments deadly dull. You’ve made no secret of it.”
“But you like them, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She nodded reluctantly. “You needn’t worry about me. I’ll be just as content to curl up on my sofa with a good book to read.”
“Come with me, Abby.” He brushed a stray curl off her forehead. “You’ve been alone too long. Tomorrow is our last day together. I won’t see you for at least another month afterward. So, take pity on this wicked earl.”
“I think it is the other way around, you taking pity on me. But I would like to go. Very much. If you really don’t mind.”
Her eyes were big and hopeful once again as she sought confirmation in his expression. “I want you with me, Abby. In truth, I need to get you out of here before I lose my control and beat the stuffing out of your brother. I know he’s going through a hard time. I know he loves you. But it doesn’t excuse his cruel treatment of you.” He sighed and shook his head, suddenly wanting to offer this girl everything.
She’d called her brother, that undeserving wretch, my dearest. She’d nursed her brother through his addiction, through raging fever, and had never once complained.
No one looked out for her.
In truth, she was holding up admirably on her own.
But he couldn’t leave her now. He was going to make this an evening of enchantment for her, even if he had to endure a night of screeching opera singers and matchmaking mothers.
But there would also be an orchestra and dancing afterward.
Did Abby know how to dance?
He didn’t care.
He’d wait for a waltz to take her into his arms… all he had to do afterward was remember to let her go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ABBY’S LIP WAS still throbbing lightly as she entered Lady Miranda’s home and was instantly enthralled by its elegance and festive decorations. Vases overflowing with freshly cut flowers surrounded the entry hall. Scented candles blazed in gleaming, silver candelabra and chandeliers. Elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen were milling about with champagne flutes in hand and smiles on their faces.
