Chapter 2

"Istill think it a terrible idea for this marriage to be held so quickly."

The tastefully furnished carriage trundled down the road towards Borthwell Estate, carrying along with it Abel Wareham, his discontentment clouding the wide compartment.

Sitting across from him, his younger sister's expression was filled with exasperation as she continuously tried to ease his worries.

"Brother, we have discussed this a multitude of times?—"

"My apologies, what would you like me to say instead, Olivia?" Abel leaned back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, Sister, aren't we just thrilled to be on our way to meet your dubious betrothed's family? I can hardly contain my excitement."

"Abel, please try to be civil. This marriage is important to me, and I need your support."

He scoffed, his tone laced with skepticism. "Support? How can I support something I know so little about? You've rushed into this, Olivia. Do you even know the man's family well enough? And again, why the hurry?"

Olivia's voice held a note of determination as she defended her choices. "I have spent enough time with Elliot to know that he is a good man. We may not have known each other for long, but I believe in our connection. I trust him, Brother."

Abel's eyes narrowed. "Trust him? Sister, you're far too trusting. You ought to take more time to truly know a man before making such a life-altering decision. You can't expect me to stand by and watch you rush into something you may regret."

Olivia's voice softened, her eyes pleading. "I understand your concerns, but I have made up my mind. Elliot is kind, honorable, and treats me with respect. He sees the value in me, and I in him. I beg you, try to see things from my perspective."

"Your perspective? Little sister, you are a diamond of the first water, a lady of grace and intellect, agreed. But do you truly know what lies beyond the confines of our sheltered world?"

He chuckled. "Embroidery and books can only teach you so much. Life is not always as kind as you believe."

Olivia's eyes were blazing with irritation as she met his gaze. "I may not have experienced the hardships of the world, but I have learned enough to know what matters to me."

Her eyes were fierce and her tone heavy as she continued, "This matters the world to me. I'm not going to change my mind, Brother."

Abel was slightly taken aback by the sudden change in her usually soft tone, but he didn't show it. This betrothal had awakened a fierce side of her, one he had never witnessed before.

He didn't know what to say anymore. The realization slowly sank in that she was resolute in her decision, and he had to honor it.

Amused yet slightly fearful that her attitude would only worsen, he let out a deep sigh and nodded his head to her.

"Fine. I shall say no more about the matter."

"Thank you!" Her instant excitement brought a small smile to his face, and he shook his head to himself.

"Also, Brother…" Olivia cast a hesitant glance at him, her voice apprehensive yet hopeful. "I must implore you to be kinder to Elliot's family when we meet. You have a tendency to be cold and unkind, especially when you meet new people."

Her voice grew quieter, and she met his gaze. "It's… why the ton tends to fear and avoid you."

Abel raised an eyebrow as he scoffed. "I am a duke, not some debutante," he retorted sharply. "I have no obligation to be friendly with every person I encounter. The ton ought to fear and remain watchful while conversing with me."

Olivia let out a sigh. It was apparent that her plea was a lost cause.

"Very well," she murmured. "I respect your position. Just… try not to frighten them too much, won't you?"

Abel's lips curled into a smirk as he glanced at her. "I make no promises, dear sister. But for your sake, I shall attempt a modicum of civility."

Unfortunately, however, as they finally arrived at the Earl of Borthwell's grand estate, his keen eyes couldn't help but notice the state of the garden as they passed by.

It was a chaos of mismatched flowers, lacking the refined elegance one would expect from a noble's estate. Unable to contain his thoughts, he leaned in close to Olivia and whispered, his voice laced with a touch of disdain.

"My dear sister, I daresay your in-laws are sorely in need of dismissing their gardener. This garden is a hodgepodge of the most unsightly blooms."

Olivia's eyes narrowed, her frustration evident. She glared at him, her tone firm as she scolded, "Must you always find fault in everything? Stop nitpicking, there's beauty in its imperfection."

Abel grunted in response, his pride preventing him from admitting any wrongdoing. He fell silent, his gaze shifting away from the disarrayed garden.

At last, they reached the entrance of the Earl's residence and were warmly greeted by Elliot and his father.

After short, customary pleasantries, the Earl extended a welcoming hand to Abel. "Your Grace, we are honored by your presence. Thank you for gracing us with your visit."

Abel merely nodded. "Lord Borthwell, Likewise."

He glanced at the fine young man standing beside Lord Borthwell. That had to be Elliot, judging by how Olivia seemed to swoon where she stood. It took an effort not to roll his eyes at her reaction.

He had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that Elliot was quite a fine man. He was dressed impeccably in a perfectly tailored suit, and he looked like a refined gentleman.

Abel also knew how deceiving looks could be. A part of him wished he didn't have to go through all this trouble, but he needed to be certain Olivia's potential husband was not a rake. For her, he could suffer any inconvenience.

Lord Borthwell had obviously been expecting more from Abel, and his curt reply threw the Earl temporarily off guard.

Leonard chuckled nervously as the silence stretched awkwardly. He glanced to his side and patted Elliot on the back, gently shoving him forward.

"This is my first son, Elliot."

Elliot made a sweeping bow, and Abel hid how impressed he was by the perfect execution. It was one of the finest bows he'd ever seen.

Maybe he's not so bad, after all.

"Your Grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. We've heard wonderful things about you, and I would personally like to thank you for your support. I love your sister, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making her happy, with your blessing."

Abel grunted, fixing his cold, hard gaze on Elliot. To his credit, Elliot didn't shrink or wilt under the intense scrutiny. "We shall see."

Another awkward silence fell over the group, and Lord Borthwell shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Abel was used to provoking such a reaction from people whom he met for the first time. What was it about him that always put people on edge?

"I trust the ride here wasn't too uncomfortable?" Elliot asked, trying to fill the silence.

"It was pleasant." Abel crossed his arms behind his back.

He caught Olivia glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. He glanced at her, and her glare turned into an imploring smile. He turned his attention back to Elliot, who was clearly searching for a conversation starter.

Lord Borthwell fidgeted with one of the buttons on his coat, his forehead glistening with sweat. He was clearly uncomfortable with how poorly this introduction was going.

Abel was as implacable as a howling storm, and try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to enjoy this. And he didn't intend to pretend either.

"Whatever you need during your stay here, please let me know, Your Grace," Elliot said, "and it shall be provided."

Abel nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Elliot deflated visibly, and Abel wondered what the relentless man was going to attempt again to drag him into conversation.

Thankfully, before things could worsen, Olivia interjected with her brightest of smiles. "Lord Borthwell, it's truly delightful to be here. Your hospitality is most appreciated."

"Please, come in. I would love to introduce you to the rest of the household," Lord Borthwell piped up. "My wife has been beside herself with joy since she found out about your visit."

Finally.

"Yes, lead on," Abel said.

Leonard marched up the steps to the manor with his son, and Abel and Olivia fell in step behind them.

As they walked into the house, the contrast between Abel's reserved nature and Olivia's efforts to bridge the gap became apparent.

Olivia turned to him, her voice desperate as she whispered, "Try, Brother."

Abel frowned, but he nodded to ease her worries.

As they entered the drawing room, they exchanged warm greetings with the rest of the family. The Countess, brimming with excitement, approached Olivia with open arms.

"It's such a pleasure to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Olivia's face lit up with a genuine smile. "Thank you, My Lady. I've been looking forward to meeting you as well."

Meanwhile, Abel was introduced to the rest of the family. He met the Earl's second son, Hector, who exuded a boisterous energy yet had a hint of intelligence shining through his playful demeanor.

Finally, he was introduced to the Earl's daughter, Bridget. With a quiet grace, she curtsied before him, her eyes downcast.

"Your Grace, my youngest daughter, Lady Bridget," the Earl announced.

Abel nodded respectfully. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Bridget."

Lady Bridget nodded softly, and Abel's brow furrowed ever so slightly as he took in her appearance.

His first thought was that she wasn't very beautiful.

With auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, green eyes, freckles scattered across her nose, and a tall, slender body, she was an unconventional face among the ton.

Her reserved demeanor and lack of eye contact only led him to believe that she was as uninteresting as other ladies he had encountered before, thus his eyes quickly skipped over her.

They all settled in the drawing room, and the atmosphere was filled with polite and light conversation. The Earl's family graciously engaged in discussions, trying to make their guests feel at ease.

Before he could realize it, Abel found himself roped into sharing details of his famed travels, getting more and more comfortable with the family. Olivia was all smiles at this point, and he cracked a few as well.

"Your Grace, do tell us more. I've heard you've been to the most remarkable places and seen the most astonishing sights." The Countess's eyes were filled with genuine interest as she pressed.

Amidst the laughter and words of agreement, Abel looked around the room, feeling a burst of comedic genius. "Well, Vauxhall Gardens were quite vibrant when I visited, but I dare say, they don't meet the eye-catching insanity of the garden outside."

He chuckled as he went on, "I say, your gardens could be a circus attraction with the right word spread, shan't we all agree?"

Following Olivia's awkward laughter, the room fell silent. A subtle tension hung in the air, and the family exchanged uneasy glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond.

Abel's bros furrowed in confusion as his eyes shifted to his sister. Olivia's eyes, however, were fixed on the ground, worry oozing off her frame.

Finally, the Countess, with a forced smile, attempted to defuse the awkwardness. "Oh, Your Grace, you do have a way with words. We appreciate your jest, of course."

"Indeed, Your Grace, perhaps you can offer us some gardening tips. Our gardens might be in need of a duke's touch," Elliot pitched in quickly, encouraging bouts of awkward chuckles to fill the air.

Abel chuckled awkwardly as well, sensing the discomfort in the room. It was clear they felt compelled to maintain decorum and act as if his joke was amusing, given his status.

"Ah, I'm afraid my green thumb is not as renowned as my wit, but I'm always here to lend a helping hand, should you ever desire it."

"That would be most appreciated," the Countess said, chuckling nervously. "It is unusual for our garden to be in such a terrible condition. It's just… well, we've just had other things on our minds, and the gardeners will look into fixing it first thing in the morning."

Abel shook his head in amusement. "With all due respect, My Lady, I do believe that that garden has never felt the touch of a gardener. Why, I do believe that some lost treasure from children's bedtime stories could be found in that tangle."

There was another chorus of forced laughter, but nobody would meet his eyes.

He chuckled to himself and opened his mouth to speak again, wondering how far they were willing to let him go before abandoning all pretense of decorum and civility.

"Actually, I believe we've been faring quite well enough without your input, Your Grace."

All eyes turned to Lady Bridget, who had remained quiet since the beginning of the conversation. "Our gardens are fine." Her lips curled into a tight smile. "Our father had the flowers expertly handled with brand new imported tools for this occasion, as a matter of fact."

She let out a chuckle that sounded like a warning bell. "Unless, of course, His Grace is alluding that his sister's father-in-law's expertise is circus material. But I choose to doubt that a man of your caliber could be that distasteful."

Her laugh was daring this time. "Am I not correct?"

Abel's heart thumped loudly in his chest, his body frozen in shock. His gaze shifted from Bridget to her brother, Hector, who was sitting beside her, his jaw slack in astonishment.

The entire room fell into a hushed silence, her bold comments ringing in the air. Though she delivered her words with a hint of polite jest, there was an unmistakable fierceness behind them.

As she locked glaring eyes with him, Abel couldn't help but be drawn to the intensity of her sharp, green gaze. He noticed it was a stark contrast to her pale complexion.

At that moment, he realized this woman was not the docile, submissive figure he had anticipated. And for some inexplicable reason, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her.

After an awkward silence, he managed to clear his throat, attempting to articulate his thoughts. "I only meant to say, finding such flower arrangements in a noble's house strikes me as rather… unconventional."

But before he could finish his sentence, she swiftly interjected, her words dripping with precision, "Ah, but you see, Your Grace, it takes intellect to understand that the beauty of art lies in its ability to challenge norms and evoke emotions beyond the ordinary."

Abel's shock only grew at her quick-witted response and ability to articulate her thoughts with such eloquence. It was clear that she possessed a sharp intellect and a knack for verbal sparring. Never had he met a woman with both.

Finally, he found his words again, his face narrowing with realization and offense. "If I didn't know any better, Lady Bridget, I would assume you're calling me a man of low intellect."

"Oh, I wouldn't make such a bold statement unprovoked, Your Grace. You see, some of us tend to be more understanding, with social grace and polite conversation skills," Bridget countered with a sardonic smile.

Abel let out a laugh in disbelief. "I have to admit, I'm surprised, Lady Bridget. It seems your gaze has finally decided to grace us with its presence and in such a… cutting manner."

He shifted in his seat as he continued, "Pray, tell me, did you grow tired of throwing whatever may be bothering you at the poor floor, and are you simply looking for a new target?"

Bridget met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. "Oh, Your Grace, believe me, if I needed a worthy opponent to spar with, I'd rather choose the pink inner curtains by the corner."

The room seemed to hold its breath. It was quiet enough for one to hear a pin drop.

Abel's eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. "Lady Bridget, could you be saying?—"

"Well, well, aren't we all in such high spirits, already!"

Just as the tension became almost unbearable, the Countess gracefully intervened, standing to her feet and clapping her hands together with a loud laugh.

"Before we proceed with our… invigorating conversations, my dear guests, I believe it is time to show you to your rooms, where you can rest and refresh yourselves for dinner soon."

There were immediate nods and murmurs of agreement, and much to Abel's annoyance, Bridget instantly tore her gaze away from him.

"Very well, My Lady," he replied as he managed to pull his eyes away from her. "We shall continue this conversation during dinner."

As they all got up to leave, Abel stole one final glance at Bridget, and his face contorted into a frown.

She was staring meekly at the floor again.