“He would regale me with stories about your battles. About how quickly you rose in the ranks to command a vessel at so young an age. Always, he would smile. Probably the only time I ever saw him happy was when he talked about you.”
Jack gritted his teeth, not in anger he realized, but in sorrow. True, heartbreaking sorrow.
“Thank you,” he managed to say before turning and leaving the room. He needed to be alone. Alone where no one would see the pain.
Chapter Nineteen
Abigail fought to calm her racing heart and churning stomach. The Howell’s ball. Was this to be her end? It had taken every ounce of courage to come tonight. To face a room of disapproving friends and family. Each of them ashamed to know her. Each wishing she would simply disappear from their lives and never return.
Taking a deep breath, she curtseyed to Lord and Lady Howell. Both smiled a welcome. The story had not yet broken, she realized. Bristol would wait until everyone was in place, perhaps at a break between dances.
If he was to do it, he would want the perfect moment. The time that could inflict the most pain. That was the kind of man he was.
Rising from her curtsey, she followed Aunt Maud and Rose into the ballroom. Was this her last one? she wondered as she took a moment to soak it all in. The smell of candle wax, perfumes, and polished oak. The colors, fancy gowns, liveried footmen, candlelight glinting off sparkling jewels. The sound of the musicians tuning their instruments, the low hum of people conversing, the occasional laugh echoing from the ballroom walls.
She would miss it, she realized. Although she had never truly been accepted. She would still miss it, all the same, she realized with surprise. Something about the pomp and silliness pulled at her. It was both the best and worst of Britain. But she would miss it.
Would it all be ruined this night? And if not tonight? When? Was she to go through her life always worried that the story would be exposed? Then a sudden realization washed over her. Was this why Lord Bristol was doing this? Had he gone through life worried that she would expose him and what he had attempted in the barn all those years ago? Was this a form of revenge?
The thought surprised her. Had Lord Bristol lay awake at night, worried of exposure? Worried about being judged by society? Of being ruined?
No, of course not. The man had never feared disapproval. Why should he? In his word, the only thing a gentleman need fear was being thought a coward. The one and only vice no man could survive.
She needed to find Jack and warn him. He shouldn’t be surprised. What would he say? How would he react to the thought of being exposed? Would he succumb to honor and tell her they should marry to forestall the shame? No, she thought with determination. This must not be allowed. He would have to dishonor his debt to his father.
“Excuse me, Aunt Maud, I must find Lady Isobel.”
Her aunt frowned and shook her head. “Lord Newcastle is not here. The man is so tall he is hard to miss. So, you needn’t hurry to find him a wife.”
Abigail’s stomach clenched into a tight ball as she ignored her aunt’s jab. Of course, why else would a man such as Lord Newcastle show any interest in her? Biting her lip, she made her way to the back room. She was surprised to find the chairs empty. Where were Jack’s aunts? The women were notorious for arriving early in order to obtain good seats. And as Isobel had told her, they enjoyed watching people arrive so that they could comment on their fashion choices.
Twisting, she scanned the room, she needed to find them. Jack would come to them first. A small part of her wondered if he would look for her. Would he smile? Would they have a secret moment of shared thoughts when their eyes met across the room? Or would he ignore her?
The thought of him giving her a cold shoulder sent a bolt of pure pain through her. The kind of pain that made the injury to her leg a mere afterthought.
He had given her an adventure. He had more than repaid his debt to her. Could she expect anything more? After all, there were a hundred beautiful young women willing to become his wife. And Abigail was willing to wager, there were a hundred more married women and widows willing to share his bed. Why should he ever wish to be with a crippled spinster?
The pain in her stomach made her want to run. To hide herself away and never face the look of disdain in his eyes.
No, one problem at a time, she told herself. Jack needed to know that Lord Bristol was aware of their liaison. That was the primary necessity for this evening. Everything else was but an afterthought.
But no Jack nor his aunts. The first dance came and went. Rose and her Baron leading the way. Had he decided not to attend tonight because he didn’t wish to see her?
Her worrying thoughts were stopped dead when she saw her enemy, Lord Bristol, approach Aunt Maud. Was this it? All she could do was stand there, resting on her cane, and hold her breath. Every sound, every sight faded away. There was only the dark cloud of despair named, Lord Bristol.
The anger in his eyes surprised Abigail. Why did the man hate her so?
Her stomach continued to churn. She felt so alone, no Jack. Not even the old Oxford biddies to share her company. It was Aunt Maud who broke the spell, rushing across the room without being obvious about it. “Unbelievable.”
Abigail froze. Was this it? The moment where her world crashed down around her.
“Oxford has died. Last night.”
A numb shock washed over her. Poor Jack. While he had never discussed it in depth. She had come to believe there was an awkwardness between himself and his father. Unspoken concerns that he could now never address.
“It is the talk of the night of course,” Aunt Maud said. “A bastard becoming Duke. Who would ever believe it?”
Abigail held her tongue. It would do no good to argue with her aunt. Instead, she took a deep breath. Did this change anything? Would it cause Lord Bristol to hold off on exposing her? Again, her world was a mishmash of complex possibilities. Almost none of them positive.
“Of course,” Aunt Maud continued. “It really doesn’t change much. Everyone knew the old Duke was on his death bed. The woman chosen to be his wife had only to wait and she would be a Duchess. Now, she will get there sooner.”
All Abigail could do was slowly shake her head. Jack had lost his father. His world had been pushed into chaos and all her aunt could think about was how it would impact the marriage mart.
“We must send our condolences,” Abigail said, trying to help her aunt focus on what was important.
Aunt Maud scoffed and waved her hand in dismissal. “Of course, in addition, we will attend the funeral. Half of London will be there. Or at least the important part of London.”
Once again, Abigail found herself biting her tongue. Her aunt was such a snob. And with so little justification. But Jack would be there at his father’s funeral. Would he see her? Would he know she ached because of his sadness?
Her heart broke at the thought of him being in pain and being unable to offer any support. Any help. It was so wrong. So unjust.
And still, there was the worry of Lord Bristol hanging over them. How could she tell Jack? He would go into mourning. There would be no more balls. No more shared moments. She cringed inside when she realized her first thought was about herself. Jack would be unable to select a wife until he came out of mourning. It was an evil, selfish thought and she pushed it aside with shame. But it was there and her true feelings.
“We should also send word to the Oxford aunts,” she told her aunt. “Perhaps call on them?”
Aunt Maud’s brow furrowed in confusion. Abigail scrambled to justify a visit to the three old biddies. She really didn’t wish it, but perhaps it would lead to her seeing Jack again. At least she could discover how he was holding up.
“Don’t forget, Aunt Maud, Lady Elizabeth and her sisters are good friends of the Queen. We wouldn’t want to burn a bridge unnecessarily. After all, Rose has not yet landed her future husband. A wrong word in the wrong ear and …”
Aunt Maud’s eyes grew very bi
g as she nodded. “Yes, tomorrow I should think. We will all three go. You know them best. Do you think it would be appropriate tomorrow.”
Abigail sighed internally. It would be as close as she could get to Lord … no His Grace the Duke of Oxford. Perhaps, if she worked Lady Isobel, she might get word to him.
“Perhaps,” she answered as her heart jumped. Would she find some way to get word to Jack? “We will need to ensure they are available. We will send word to make sure they are receiving.”
Aunt Maud sighed, then immediately waved at Lady Carswell and left Abigail without another word. Abigail could only shake her head. Would her world ever return to normal? The threat of Lord Bristol. The death of Jack’s father. The memories of being in Jack’s arms. All of it served to create a spinning chaos that threatened to overrun her sense of reality.
.o0o.
Jack Hardy, the Seventh Duke of Oxford watched the Archbishop of Canterbury eulogize his father and could only shake his head. The Prince Regent, the current and two former Prime ministers, everybody who was anybody was in attendance.
A few months ago, he had been a Captain in the Royal Navy. In command of a ship far out at sea. And now, he sat in a pew, surrounded by the leaders of Great Britain. All to bury a man who he had despised and loved at the same time. A man who had ignored and abandoned him. Only to reach out and pluck him from his ship and put him here in this pew.
A numbness had come over him the moment his father had passed. He wondered if it would ever go away. He had spent the days going through the motions. Giving his approval, meeting with solicitors and government officials. Agents from estates across Britain, each one wanted his approval for their plans.
Sighing, he shifted to examine his three aunts sitting next to him on the hard pew. Only Isobel wiped at her eyes. Mary at least looked upset. Aunt Elizabeth was as steady as stone. Her lips pressed tightly. Her eyes creased with disapproval. Obviously critical of the Archbishop and his performance.
A sudden feeling of silliness filled him. It was all so ridiculous. The man they were burying hadn’t cared for any of them, yet they acted as if they had lost a true champion.
He bit back an urge to laugh out loud. Instead, he smiled as his shoulders slumped with relief. And just like that, the numbness was gone. None of it mattered, he thought. All this pomp and ceremony. It was for the living, not the dead. A way to solemnize a life, therefore making their own seem to be filled with meaning.
Where was Abigail? he wondered as he stopped himself from shifting and looking back over the people sitting quietly in the church. She was there though. He was sure of it. Even now, he could feel her looking at him. Her beautiful soft eyes creased with concern.
Every other person in this room was wondering if he could live up to the expectations of a British Duke. Only Abigail was worried about him, not his title, he could feel it in his bones and the thought eased his concern.
Once the prayers and ceremony were complete, he rose and held out his arm for Elizabeth, she shot him a strange look, then allowed herself to be led down the aisle and back out of the church. Both Ian and Brock would escort his other two aunts. There were no other men of the family. Of course not, or he would never have been in this situation.
After the three aunts had been handed up into the coach, he joined them. Dressed in black, they reminded him of three crows. The ride to the graveyard was slow and silent. Each person obviously lost in their own thoughts.
As they lowered the coffin, Jack looked up to find Abigail staring at him, her eyes creased with concern. She acted as if he had lost his dearest friend. He was tempted to laugh, but he refrained, let the old man go in peace.
After the service, he accepted the condolences as people filed away. He nodded and said the appropriate words, but his mind was a million miles away. It was only when Abigail and her relatives approached that he returned to reality.
“Lady Dupont, Lady Rose, Lady Abigail,” he said as he bowed.
All three women dropped into deep curtseys. His heart jumped with worry when he saw Abigail struggle but she was able to rise without creating an incident. Both her aunt and her cousin passed along their sorrow at his loss. Abigail, however, remained silent. Intently studying him, as if searching for some hidden clue as to his well being.
Abigail looked up at him with sad eyes. His heart relaxed, he had been right, she did worry about him.
“I wish to express my appreciation,” he said to the three women, being sure to focus on Abigail’s aunt. It was her he needed to maneuver into the correct position. “My aunts mentioned how kind you were when you visited them the other day.”
Abigail’s aunt smiled slightly, obviously please to have been praised.
“Of course, Your Grace. During such trying times, we must all endeavor to help.”
He nodded, “I would ask a favor if I might.”
Lady Maud’s eyes grew big. Jack remembered Abigail telling him about how the ton used favors as a form of currency. The woman was looking forward to him being in her debt. Of course, she was excited.
“I would ask,” he said, “if you could attend the funeral feast. To help them through this. It would mean so much to me.”
Maud almost gasped but caught herself in time. She had not intended to attend the funeral feast. They did not know the family that well and it might have seemed pretentious. But to be invited, by the Duke himself. That was significant. Abigail could see her aunt’s brain reworking the formula concerning status. They had risen just the slightest.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said with somberly. “After all, it is our Christian duty.”
Jack bowed then turned to greet the next person in line, but not before seeing Abigail giving him a curious look that quickly changed over to awareness. Of course, she had understood. The woman was intelligent after all. She had read his intentions. If she and her aunt attended the funeral feast, perhaps they would have an opportunity to talk.
Good, he thought, one piece placed in play.
Chapter Twenty
Abigail held her breath as she used her cane to gingerly step down from the coach. Turning slightly, she looked up at Jack’s home. A memory of holding his wound closed as they hurried into the house flashed through her mind.
Was he well? The wound on his arm had healed. But what was he feeling now with the death of his father? Her heart hurt just thinking of him all alone at a time like this. His aunts, his friends, they couldn’t help him. Not really. Could she have a moment alone with him? Just to touch his arm. Just to let him know that she cared for him and his happiness.
Her heart ached thinking of him.
“Abigail,” Aunt Maud hissed. She and Rose were already at the top of the steps, obviously waiting for her. She sighed heavily and joined them.
The butler bowed as he opened the door to admit them. Abigail took a deep breath in preparation. A muted hum buzzed from a dozen different conversations. People talking in hushed tones. As if afraid of waking the dead.
More that one eyebrow rose in seeing the Dupont women entering. Abigail felt as if she did not belong. Aunt Maud, of course, felt no such hesitation. It was easy to read their thoughts. What were they doing there? Who invited them?
“There he is,” Aunt Maud whispered as she took Rose’s hand and started to pull her towards the new Duke. My God, Abigail thought. Did her aunt plan on throwing Rose at him? At a moment like this? No, surely she wasn’t that crass.
But of course, she was.
Abigail swallowed a curse and limped to join them. Jack looked over her aunt’s head and straight into her eyes. Abigail melted inside. That was a look for just her. A look of tenderness that he quickly hid.
The memory of Lord Bristol and his threat flashed into her mind. Followed by a sudden fear that people would be able to tell the truth just by looking at her. Surely, they would see that she loved this man. It had to be obvious. It was impossible to hide.
A new fear filled her, what if he saw it? What if he l
earned her secret? He would shudder and run and her heart would break.
“Come,” she said to her aunt. “We need to find Lady Elizabeth and the others.”
Jack frowned slightly, obviously wondering why she was in such a hurry to leave him.
Thankfully, Aunt Maud did not create an issue.
The evening progressed, people talking in whispered tones. Abigail watched as Jack made the rounds. Thanking people.
I must tell him about Lord Bristol, she thought with determination. Without a word to Aunt Maud, she started for him, afraid if she hesitated, she would never have the courage.
“Lady Abigail,” he said as he bowed.
Her heart fluttered. The smell of sandalwood and salt. The way his hair ached to have her fingers run through it. Every aspect of this man pulled at her very soul. The memory of their time together flashed through her mind. Their mutual explosion of passion. It was enough to make her take a deep breath as a burning need washed over her.
“I need to speak to you. Alone,” she said in a low voice.
His eyebrows narrowed in confusion for just the slightest moment. The man obviously thought she couldn’t keep away from him. He was probably terrified that she was to become one of those weak hopeless women that made a man’s life miserable.
“Of course,” he said as he nodded slightly to the hall.
Abigail curtsied then made her way through the crowd to the hall. Once there, she held her breath as she waited for him. What would he think when she told him? Had he thought of her at all since their time together? Would he look upon her news as a mere bother, something not of his concern.
“This way,” he said as he stepped into the hall and nodded to a far door.
Abigail took a deep breath and straitened her shoulders. She couldn’t back out now.
He scanned the hallway to make sure no one was looking, then opened the door and ushered her in.
“Abigail, is everything alright? Are you well?”
So like him, she thought as her heart jumped. Worried about her at a time like this.
A Duke's Duty (The Duke's Club Book 2) Page 13
