Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

T o say that Abigail was nervous about her impending promenade with the duke was an understatement. With Harriet in bed and Hugh obsessed with his son, Harriet's mother had offered to chaperone them. Where Jennifer stood next to Abigail now, a serene smile played around her lips. Abigail, who had always liked the fiery woman, looked at her with a regretful smile.

"I am sorry for making you do this," she mumbled with a sigh. "I suppose you'd much rather get to know your grandson."

Jennifer laughed at this and shook her head. "Do not fret, darling," she said kindly. "I am not much one for babies. I'll get to know the little rugrat once he grows a bit. For now, I am far more interested in meeting the elusive Duke of Grouton."

Abigail could not help but sigh at the mention of her soon-to-be husband and Jennifer looked at her curiously.

"Forgive me, darling," she said gently, "but that sigh does not sound like a woman about to get married. Is everything alright?"

Abigail felt her cheeks flush and she shook her head. Jennifer was almost too easy to talk to.

"It's just… he has a bit of a reputation," she explained clumsily and Jennifer let out a laugh. "Oh my sweet," the older woman said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I often find that the men with reputations are the most fun. Look at my son, for example — the poor child has the cleanest reputation in all the ton and he is miserable. Awfully boring, though I do love him of course. But then…"

Her expression changed suddenly and she looked at Abigail earnestly. "Look at your brother's reputation, or even that of my daughter… and see how happy they are. Do not trust the rumor mill of the ton — too often the people spreading those stories are bored."

Before Abigail could answer her, however, a carriage drew nearer. She released a trembling breath as Charles stepped from it. Jennifer's eyes widened appreciatively. "Well, well," she teased softly. "The rumors certainly didn't do him justice. If I were forty years younger…"

"Mrs. Lourne!" Abigail hissed, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. Jennifer merely laughed and Abigail turned to Charles, who approached them with no indication that he had heard Jennifer's words.

"Your Grace," Abigail greeted him, her voice cool and formal as he helped her into the carriage.

"Lady Abigail," he replied, settling in across from her. "I trust you're well this morning?"

She nodded curtly, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery as they made their way to the park. The silence between them was thick with tension, a far cry from the easy camaraderie they had shared during their lessons.

"Your Grace," Jennifer interjected, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I am Jennifer Lourne, Lady Abigail's chaperone for the day. I do hope you do not mind an old woman tagging along on your romantic stroll."

Charles bowed politely. "Not at all, Mrs. Lourne. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

As they arrived at the park and began their walk, Charles cleared his throat, deciding to broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind. "I've obtained a special license," he said, keeping his voice low. "We can be married in ten days' time."

Abigail stopped short, her eyes wide with shock. "Ten days?" she repeated, her voice rising slightly. "Why the rush? Surely we could wait a bit longer, perhaps…"

"Oh, how exciting!" Jennifer interrupted, her voice joyful. "A whirlwind wedding. It reminds me of my own elopement with dear Mr. Lourne. Of course, we had to move rather quickly because of the baby, but that's neither here nor there."

"Mrs. Lourne!" Abigail gasped, scandalized.

Jennifer winked at her. "What? It's not as if you two haven't already been caught in a compromising position. Might as well embrace the scandal, I say."

Charles cut her off gently, gesturing subtly around them. "I invite you to look around, my lady. Perhaps then you'll understand the urgency."

Abigail followed his gaze, her face flushing as she realized that every eye in the park seemed to be fixed on them. Ladies whispered behind their fans, gentlemen huddled in small groups, all of them stealing not-so-subtle glances in their direction.

"Did you see? The Duke of Grouton and his Scottish bride-to-be…"

"I heard she trapped him into marriage. Quite clever of her, really…"

"Well, what can you expect from a girl of her... background?"

"...never thought he'd marry…"

As the whispers grew louder, Jennifer linked arms with both Charles and Abigail, positioning herself between them like a protective barrier. "My dears," she said loudly enough for nearby eavesdroppers to hear, "pay them no mind. Half of them are just jealous, and the other half wish they had the courage to cause such a delicious scandal themselves."

Abigail's face darkened with anger, and she took a step towards the nearest group of gossiping ladies. Charles quickly placed a hand on her arm, holding her back.

"Do not," he murmured. "It will only make things worse."

Abigail whirled to face him, her eyes flashing. "How can you stand it? How can you just let them talk about us like that?"

To her surprise, Charles chuckled, a sound that only served to fuel her indignation. "What, pray tell, do you find so amusing about this situation?" she demanded.

Charles's eyes sparkled with mirth as he looked down at her. "It's just... very charming, how vehemently opposed you are to the ton. Especially given that you're about to become a duchess. It will be your duty to be involved in this world, you know."

Abigail felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. In all the chaos of the past few days, she had somehow forgotten that marrying Charles meant more than just becoming his wife. It meant becoming the Duchess of Grouton, with all the responsibilities and expectations that came with the title.

"Oh, you'll make a splendid duchess, darling," Jennifer chimed in. "My Harriet was just as nervous before marrying your dear brother. Just remember, a well-timed fainting spell can get you out of the dullest of social obligations. Works like a charm, I assure you."

Seeing the stunned look on her face, Charles smiled gently. "Of course, your new title will bring power as well. The sort of power that usually silences wagging tongues." He paused, then added wryly, "Usually."

She turned to face Charles, her expression resolute. "I need you to agree to something," she said, her voice low and intense. "A rule for our marriage, if you will."

Charles raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "And what might that be?"

"I will do my best to be a good duchess," Abigail said, her chin lifted defiantly. "I'll learn the rules, play the games, do whatever is necessary. But you must promise me that you will never, ever ask me to become like them." She gestured to the gossiping crowds around them. "I won't lose myself to this world, Charles. I couldn't."

Charles studied her face for a long moment, taking in the fire in her eyes, the determined set of her jaw. Finally, he nodded. "Very well," he said softly. "I give you my word. I would never ask you to change who you are, Abigail. It's your spirit, your uniqueness, that makes you... you."

Abigail felt a wave of relief wash over her, but it was short-lived as Charles continued, "However, I have a rule of my own to propose."

She looked at him, perplexed. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Charles took a deep breath and Abigail watched him curiously. "We will not fall in love with each other."

Abigail felt as though she'd been doused with cold water. "What?"

"You heard me," Charles said, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll be friends, partners even. But that's where it ends. No romantic entanglements, no matters of the heart. It's safer that way, for both of us."

Jennifer listened with raised eyebrows. "No falling in love?" she repeated, looking between them. "Well, that's certainly an... interesting approach. Though I must say, Your Grace, with a face like yours, you're not making it easy on poor Abigail."

Abigail stared at him, a whirlwind of emotions churning within her. Part of her wanted to argue, to demand an explanation for this strange and sudden decree. But another part — the part that remembered Beatrice's warnings and the whispers about Charles's past — understood all too well.

After what felt like an eternity, she nodded slowly. "Very well," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If that's what you want, I... I agree."

Charles nodded, a flicker of something — relief? Regret? — passing across his face. "Good," he said. "Then we're in agreement."

They resumed their walk, the silence between them now charged with a new tension. Abigail's mind was reeling, trying to reconcile the Charles she thought she knew with this man who seemed determined to keep her at arm's length.

As they passed a group of young ladies, one of them called out, her voice syrupy sweet. "Lady Abigail! How lovely to see you. And with your fiancé, no less. You must be so excited for the wedding."

Abigail forced a smile, acutely aware of Charles's presence beside her. "Indeed, Lady Margaret. We're both looking forward to it."

Lady Margaret's smile turned predatory. "I am sure you are. Tell me, have you given any thought to your trousseau? I would be happy to recommend my modiste. She's quite adept at... disguising certain figure flaws."

Abigail felt her cheeks flush with anger, but before she could retort, Charles stepped in smoothly. "How kind of you to offer, Lady Margaret. But I assure you, Lady Abigail needs no such assistance. She's perfect just as she is."

Jennifer nodded approvingly. "Well said, Your Grace. And may I add, Lady Margaret, that green is not a flattering color on you. Jealousy rarely is."

Lady Margaret's smile faltered, and she quickly excused herself. As she flounced away, Abigail turned to Charles, surprised by his intervention.

"Thank you," she said softly. "You didn't have to do that."

Charles shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Perhaps not. But I meant what I said. You do not need to change for anyone, Abigail. Least of all for the bored ladies of the ton."

Abigail felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his words, but quickly tamped it down. Friends and partners, she reminded herself. Nothing more.

As they continued their walk, Abigail found herself studying Charles out of the corner of her eye. He cut a striking figure in his impeccably tailored coat, his dark hair slightly tousled by the breeze. She could not help but wonder about the man beneath the polished exterior. What had happened to make him so wary of love? And could she really go through with this marriage, knowing that he was determined to keep his heart locked away?

"You're staring," Charles said suddenly, his voice tinged with amusement. "Is there something on my face?"

Abigail quickly looked away, flustered. "No, I... I was just thinking."

"About?"

She hesitated, then decided to be honest. "About you, actually. About us. This... arrangement we're entering into."

Charles's expression sobered. "Having second thoughts?"

"No," Abigail said quickly. Then, more softly, "Maybe. I just... I am not sure I understand. Why are you so determined to keep love out of our marriage?"

Charles was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained. "Love is a luxury we can't afford, Abigail. It's too dangerous, too unpredictable. Better to build our marriage on a foundation of mutual respect and friendship. It's safer that way."

Abigail felt a pang in her chest at his words. "But surely not all love ends in pain," she argued. "Look at my brother and Harriet. They're blissfully happy."

"And they're the exception, not the rule," Charles countered. "In our world, love is a liability. It can be used against you, manipulated, twisted into something ugly. I won't put either of us in that position."

Jennifer, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange, finally spoke up. "You know, Your Grace, I've found that the things we're most afraid of are often the things most worth pursuing. But then again, what do I know? I am just an old woman who's been happily married for longer than you've been alive."

Abigail wanted to argue further, to tell him that he was wrong, that love could be beautiful and transformative. But she held her tongue, remembering their agreement. Instead, she simply nodded, trying to ignore the ache in her heart.

As they neared the end of their walk, Charles turned to her, his expression softening slightly. "I know this is not what you imagined for your marriage, Abigail. But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make you happy. To give you the life you deserve."

Abigail managed a small smile, touched by his sincerity despite her lingering doubts. "I know you will, Charles. And I promise to do the same for you."

They stood there for a moment, the air between them charged with unspoken words and emotions. Then, with a small shake of his head, Charles offered her his arm. "Shall we head back? I am sure your family will be wondering where you've gotten to."

As they made their way back to the carriage, Abigail could not shake the feeling that she was stepping into a world far more complex and treacherous than she had ever imagined.

The ride back to the Wilkinson residence was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. As Charles helped her down from the carriage, he hesitated, then spoke softly. "Thank you for agreeing to my terms, Abigail. I know it is not ideal, but I truly believe it is for the best."

Abigail looked up at him, searching his face for some clue to the man beneath the carefully controlled exterior. "I hope you're right, Charles," she said finally. "For both our sakes."

As Charles's carriage pulled away, Jennifer linked her arm through Abigail's. "Well, my dear," she said with a sly smile, "I would say that was a successful outing. And between you and me, I give it six months before that handsome duke of yours is head over heels in love with you — 'no love' rule be damned."

Abigail could not help but laugh and she suppressed the sudden fluttering in her stomach at the thought of Charles falling madly in love with her.

As they entered the house, Jennifer gave Abigail's arm a gentle squeeze. "Remember, darling," she said softly, "in this world of ours, a sense of humor is your best defense. That, and a well-timed fainting spell at dull dinner parties."

With a wink and a laugh, Jennifer swept off to find her daughter, leaving Abigail shaking her head in amused disbelief. Whatever the future held, she thought, at least it wouldn't be boring with Jennifer Lourne around.