Chapter Fourteen

Abigail rose and pulled on her dressing gown. Having spent the last two days at Crestwood Hall, she now found herself struggling to sleep what with the heat of the day and given that her thoughts were continually fixed on Lord Crestwood and their upcoming marriage. A good many plans had been made the last two days and though she was contented with them all, she still found herself rather anxious over the impending wedding day. Lord Crestwood's attentions towards her had improved a little – at least he looked at her now – but there was still a good deal of reserve displayed. It was as though he had to purposefully remind himself to sit with her, to speak with her and even to smile at her. On one or two occasions, the smile on his lips had come naturally but other times, it had been forced and hurried, barely there before it had disappeared again.

"Perhaps a new book to read?" Murmuring to herself, Abigail made her way to the door of her bedchamber and, opening it, peered out into the darkness. Turning back into the room, she picked up her candlestick and then stepped out again, knowing the house well enough by now to know where she had to go. The library was not too far from her bedchamber though the manor house was very large indeed. Everyone else, Abigail was sure, would be abed by now and the servants had taken to their rooms also. It was only unfortunate that she had not been able to sleep given both the weariness of her bones and the late hour.

Her soft slippers made no noise as she hurried down the hallway, candlestick still in hand. Coming to the library, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, only to let out a cry of surprise.

"Miss Townsend."

Lord Crestwood rose from his chair the moment Abigail stepped inside and Abigail, her heart still thundering from the shock of seeing him, began to stammer furiously.

"My lord, I – I did not realise. I should return."

"Nonsense." There was a small smile to Lord Crestwood's face and he waved one hand around at all of the books. "You have come to find something to read, I imagine?"

Abigail nodded and set the candlestick down, realizing that Lord Crestwood was rather merry no doubt due to the brandy which now sat on the table in front of him, though the glass was nearly empty. It would not have been his first glass either, she considered, moving towards the shelves slowly while keeping one eye on Lord Crestwood. A lady ought not to be alone with a gentleman under any circumstances – and one where she was wearing only her nightgown and dressing gown even more so!

"I do not mind which book I take," she said quickly, her heart still pounding rather furiously as Lord Crestwood moved a little more towards her. "Something that I can read to help me sleep."

"Ah, you see? That is a wise thought. If you cannot sleep, you take a book to read. If I cannot sleep… well… " Gesturing to his empty glass, he swung back towards her and smiled again, though he stumbled just a little. "Brandy."

"I think a book would have done you a good deal better."

He laughed then and Abigail's heart lurched, making her lick her lips as the Earl of Crestwood drew ever closer. The desire to escape, to hurry away from him and maintain her propriety was entirely absent, much to her surprise and instead, she found herself eager to remain, to linger with him – even though such a thing was most untoward and certainly could not be truly considered!

"I think you are right, Abigail."

A thrill ran up her spine and she shuddered lightly hearing her name upon his lips. "I thank you, Lord Crestwood." Swallowing hard, she looked up at him, seeing a softness in his expression which had not often been there before. "Why could you not sleep?"

A frown pulled away Lord Crestwood's smile. "Because I have been thinking. And thinking too much for any length of time is incredibly taxing."

Recalling her promise to Lady Isabella about attempting to draw closer to Lord Crestwood even when he might not desire it, Abigail harnessed her courage and spoke boldly. "What is it you have been thinking of? Is it our wedding?"

"Mayhap." The Earl tilted his head. "And Lady Clara."

Abigail's heart dropped to the floor. He was thinking of Lady Clara? Why would he be considering the lady who had injured him so greatly? Was he now eager to resume their connection? Had his thoughts turned in a more positive direction towards her?

"She caused me a great deal of suffering. But mayhap, I have added to my own pain also." With a sigh, the Earl reached out and caught her hand, pulling her a little closer. "Tell me truthfully, Abigail, do you think me a beast?"

Surprised, Abigail's eyes widened. "A beast? No, indeed I do not!"

"No?"

The way his blue eyes searched her face had her own heart aching as she pressed her lips together and wondered how she might convince him. "No, Lord Crestwood. I truly do not think you a beast. What I do think is that what Lady Clara said of you is utterly disgraceful." Her heart thudded wildly she dared to lift her other hand and, though the Earl's eyes widened a little, he did not move back as she lightly pressed her hand against his scarred cheek. "There is nothing beast-like about you, Lord Crestwood. Nothing at all."

For what felt like an age, they stood there together, her hand pressed against his cheek, his hand holding hers tightly. And then, much to Abigail's astonishment, the Earl of Crestwood smiled, turned his head and caught her hand in a quick kiss before it fell back to her side.

This was astonishing in the utmost! The brandy had made the Earl of Crestwood a good deal merrier, yes, but there was also an openness to him now, a vulnerability which he could not help but reveal even though, in his sober minded state, Abigail was certain he would never have done such a thing. Lightning ran in her veins and she swallowed tightly, looking back at him with careful eyes. He was making no attempt to move back from her, showed no eagerness to move away as she would have expected him to, had he been sober and though her whole body was thrumming with a strange heat, Abigail did not move away either. Yes, she ought not to be in his presence alone and certainly not in her night things, but this was more of an astonishment than anything else and, truth be told, she did not want to depart from him. There might be more for her to say, more for him to express and even though he were a little in his cups, would it not be good for him to do such a thing?

"Captain Harrington says that you are nothing like Lady Clara."

Abigail's throat constricted. "I beg your pardon, Lord Crestwood?"

"He says that you are not like her, that you would tell me the truth should I ask it."

A strange darkness crept over her. "You think that I am akin to Lady Clara? The lady who not only broke your heart but told the ton that you were a beast?" She spoke freely, seeing him frown but finding the shock of his words so great, she could not hold herself back. "Why should you think that I would be anything like that lady? I should never dream of saying anything like that!"

"Ah but you might think it!" Lord Crestwood tapped her nose lightly with one finger though the scowl on his face took any playful teasing away from his tone. "I do not know what it is you think of me."

"I do not know you," Abigail answered, truthfully. "You seem not to desire to spend a good deal of time in my company."

The Earl frowned. "Yes, but I told you why that was."

"You do not intend to allow any emotion or affection into our connection," she repeated, remembering the very words he had told her. "You are determined that very little will change as regards your life even as a married man. "

"And that is still exactly what I think," came the reply though his gaze slid away from hers as he spoke.

Courage sent strength into her veins and, reaching out, Abigail took his hand in her own. "Then how can you ask me what it is I think of you if you will not give me time to get to know who you are?

Lord Crestwood frowned and narrowed his eyes as though she were deliberately attempting to catch him out rather than speaking freely. "Yes, but you can see my face."

"And what does that have to do with who you are?" she retorted, a little more harshly than she had meant. "You are not the injuries to your face, Lord Crestwood. I care very little for that. My only concern is your character though, from what I have learned of you, I believe that you have the capacity to be a kind, considerate gentleman."

Lord Crestwood's frown lingered. "You will not tell me what you think of my appearance, then? You say that I am not beast but mayhap I am repulsive, grotesque or hideous to your eyes. Mayhap you dread taking me as a husband."

Abigail hesitated, letting her fingers push through his, holding onto his hand a little more tightly. This was what Lady Isabella had spoken of to her, this ongoing concern that Lady Clara's words did still cling to him. "I have already told you that I do not think you a beast. Nor do I think you repulsive, hideous or grotesque."

"You cannot ignore my scars!"

"I can and I do." She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "When I look at you, Lord Crestwood, I see only your eyes and all the shadows that they hold. I see the questions within them and when you smile, I see the beautiful light which shines in them, chasing the darkness away. I see that you hold me away from you, that you do not want me to draw near and I find myself sorrowful in that."

"Why?" There was a softness to Lord Crestwood's tone now, a quietness which had her heart leaping. "Why do you feel any great sadness in that?"

Abigail smiled and pressed his hand, taking a step closer to him as a gentle scent of pine spun through her. "Because you are to be my husband, Lord Crestwood," she said, putting one hand to his chest and feeling herself tremble with the great swell of hope which rose in her. "To my mind, it is only right that a wife should know her husband and her husband know her."

Lord Crestwood drew in a long breath. "And you wish to know me?"

"I do." Hope burned bright as he looked down into her eyes. "Very much. "

The room spun with stars as Lord Crestwood held her gaze, his hand still in hers, her hand against his chest.

And then he dropped his head and kissed her.

It was so unexpected, so extraordinary that for a moment, Abigail could not quite take in what was happening. The heat of his mouth on hers sent her tumbling to great heights of astonishment and, thereafter, delight. This was more wonderful than anything she had ever imagined! All she had wanted was to be a little closer to Lord Crestwood, to know him better than she did at present and now he was kissing her? It was something she would never have dared do herself but it had been he who had kissed her rather than the other way around – which meant that he had to desire such a thing!

Her delight broke apart in a moment as Lord Crestwood pulled back sharply, releasing her with such force, she stumbled forward and was forced to catch herself.

"I – I should not have done such a thing." Lord Crestwood put one hand over his eyes and leaned forward, a groan escaping him. "I should never have – forgive me, Miss Townsend."

No longer did he call her Abigail, no longer did he show any eagerness to be in her company. Instead, he was moving away from her, a look of almost panic on his face as he realized what it was he had done. Abigail felt no such upset, finding herself still glad that he had reached for her in such a way and thus, she spoke honestly of her feelings.

"I am not at all upset, Lord Crestwood. After all, we are to be married and – "

" I should not have done such a thing!" he exclaimed again, throwing his hands up in the air and then turning around on his heel to stride to the opposite side of the room from her, blanketing himself in shadow. "It was foolish. I am foolish."

"You are not." A slight tremble came into her voice as she reached out one hand but Lord Crestwood only shook his head and she dropped it back to her side. "How can a closeness, an intimacy and even an affection between husband and wife be a foolish thing?"

"Because it will only lead to pain," he replied, harshly, his face a little flushed now. "Besides which, someone such as myself is unworthy of such affections. I am dark and monstrous whereas you are light and laughter. No, Miss Townsend, it is best that I remain far from you and you stay far from me. We may soon be husband and wife but I can promise you that the next kiss we share will be in front of the clergyman and, thereafter, no more shall follow. Do excuse me."

Abigail could say nothing, could do nothing other than watch as Lord Crestwood made his way directly towards the door of the library. Stepping out, he left the door a little ajar and for a moment, Abigail made to follow after him, only to come to a stop.

Her heart cried out from the sheer agony within it, from the joy it had tasted only briefly to the brokenness which followed thereafter. She had allowed herself such hope, had believed that he might be willing to open his heart to her even a little, only to see her hopes shattered. Lord Crestwood was determined to remain quite alone, to keep his heart solely to himself and there was nothing, it seemed, that she was going to be able to do to free it.