Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

T he next morning, Abigail's mind could not rest even for a second. As she paced her bedchamber, her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The events of the past few days played on repeat in her head. It all started with the flirtatious barmaid at the inn. Then there were the women at the market, at the promenade, and of course Beatrice's unsettling revelations. Not to mention Lady Constance's overly familiar demeanor at the garden party.

Each memory sent a fresh wave of unease through her and she closed her eyes with a sigh. It hurt to think about it.

A sad smile settled around her lips as she gazed out of the window at the manicured gardens below. The roses Charles had so proudly shown her seemed to mock her now, their beauty a stark contrast to the turmoil in her heart. How could she reconcile the kind, patient man she'd married to the rake Beatrice had described?

Abigail shook her head with a frustrated sigh and glanced at the clock on the mantel. Charles would not be back from work for several hours and the thought of waiting here alone with only her thoughts as company was unbearable.

"I need to get out of here," she muttered to herself. Without a second thought, she rang for her maid.

"Maria," she said as soon as the young woman appeared, "Please have the carriage prepared. I am going to visit my sister-in-law."

Maria nodded and within the hour Abigail found herself on Hugh and Harriet's doorstep. As she settled down in the drawing room, she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. This place, with its familiar sights and scents, still felt like home — more than Grouton manor ever had.

"Abigail," Harriet's warm voice greeted her and Abigail rose to her feet, grinning at the sight of little Graham cradled in her sister-in-law's arms. "What a lovely surprise," Harriet continued and Abigail moved to hug Harriet carefully, mindful of the baby between them.

"I hope I am not intruding," she said softly and Harriet shook her head with a laugh.

"Nonsense," she said, her keen eyes studying Abigail's face. "You're always welcome here. Sit, please — I will make sure we get some tea. Would you like to hold your nephew?"

Before Abigail could respond, Harriet gently placed Graham into her arms and Abigail looked down at the perfectly porcelain face. His lips were pressed together in a pout and his lashes made little shadows on his chubby cheeks. He cooed softly, his tiny hand wrapping around her finger and despite Abigail's troubled thoughts, she felt a surge of joy and love for this small, perfect being.

"He is getting so big," she murmured, stroking Graham's cheek.

Harriet beamed with pride. "He is, isn't he? He is already outgrowing some of his clothes and I am certain he looks more like Hugh every day. I am the one who carried him for nine months, and he has the audacity to look exactly like your brother!"

Abigail laughed at this and Harriet's expression softened. "Now, why do you not tell me what is bothering you?" she asked quietly and Abigail looked up, startled.

"What makes you think something is bothering me?"

Harriet raised an eyebrow and the women moved to sit. "Abby, I know you. You are my sister and I can tell when something is not right. Is… is it Charles? Has he done something?"

Abigail sighed, gently rocking Graham as she gathered her thoughts. "No… yes. I do not know," she admitted at last. "It's not anything he's done, exactly. It's more… things I've heard. About the past."

She looked down at her lap quietly when a matronly servant entered with the tea. Harriet leaned forward when the woman left, her brow furrowed with concern.

"What things?" she asked softly and Abigail took a deep breath, feeling the words tumble out of her mouth in a rush. "It's just… everywhere," she explained clumsily. "Like at the market. Every woman there seemed to know Charles and they were so… familiar with him, flirtatious even. And then we visited this… inn, and the barmaid looked at him like… like she knew him. And I mean really knew him… well."

Harriet nodded, her expression neutral. "Go on," she encouraged gently.

"And then there's Beatrice," Abigail continued, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "She told me that Charles had… a reputation. She said he was known for… for having dalliances, I suppose, with other women and… she made it sound like he'd not only left a trail of broken hearts everywhere, but that he hadn't stopped after our marriage."

She shook her head with a humorless laugh. "And then… she even mentioned a broken engagement. Apparently he left some poor girl right before their wedding day."

Abigail paused, blinking back tears. "And to make matters even worse, if you can believe it, just yesterday… at the Pembertons' garden party this woman, Lady Constance Taylor was there. Harriet, she was so familiar with him. She was touching his arm, calling him 'darling'... it was like I was not even there."

She looked down at Graham who had fallen asleep in her arms. "I just do not know what to believe," she concluded, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Charles has been nothing but kind and respectful to me, but what if it is all an act? What if he really did not stop his meandering ways?"

Harriet was silent for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Finally, she reached out and squeezed Abigail's hand. "Oh, Abby," she said softly. "Do you not think your imagination is running away with you?"

Abigail blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it," Harriet said gently. "All of these things you are worrying about… they're just rumors and gossip. You haven't seen Charles do anything inappropriate, have you? And you say he's been kind to you?"

"Well, no," Abigail admitted reluctantly. "But Beatrice said…"

Harriet held her hand up and shook her head. "I find that when it comes to what we believe about others, it is better to trust what we see over what others tell us," she said softly. "Many times, the ton thrives on gossip and drama. And as for the women… Abby, Charles is a duke. He is rich, handsome and powerful. Of course women are going to be drawn to him. But that does not mean he is encouraging them or reciprocating — and he married you."

Abigail nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope at Harriet's words. Still, doubt gnawed at her.

"What about the broken engagement?" she asked, her voice small. "Why wouldn't he have told me about that?"

Harriet sighed and she reached out to take Graham from Abigail's arms. She settled the sleeping baby against her shoulder before responding. "I do not know the details of that situation," she said softly, "But I do know from experience that gossip often exaggerates and distorts the truth. And perhaps… perhaps it is a painful memory for Charles, or something of which he is not proud."

Abigail watched in silence as Harriet gently patted Graham's back, a wave of longing washing over her. Harriet made motherhood seem so natural, so easy.

"How can I trust him if he is keeping secrets from me?" Abigail asked softly and Harriet looked at her earnestly, though her expression remained gentle.

"Abby, we all have parts of our past that we are not proud of, or things we'd rather not advertise. That doesn't mean Charles is being dishonest."

Abigail nodded slowly, considering Harriet's words. "I suppose that is true," she said at last. "But how do I know he really wants this marriage to work? How do I know he… he will not make a fool of me?"

Harriet smiled. "Look at his actions, Abby. How does he treat you? Is he kind? Gentle? Respectful? Does he listen to you and value your opinions?"

"Yes," Abigail said without hesitation. "He has been nothing but wonderful to me."

"Then trust that," Harriet advised. "Actions speak louder than words or rumors. Judge Charles by how he treats you, not by what others say about him."

Abigail felt some of the tension leave her shoulders and she managed a small smile. "You're right," she said softly. "I've been letting these rumors get to me and it is unfair of me, isn't it?"

Harriet nodded, her eyes twinkling. "Just a bit," she agreed. "But it is understandable. Marriage is a big adjustment, especially when it comes with a title and all the scrutiny of the ton."

"So what do I do, Harriet? Abigail asked desperately. "Do I just… continue and hope my doubts fade?"

"Talk to him," Harriet said firmly, her expression turning serious. "If you are feeling conflicted or you are filled with doubts, you need to discuss it with your husband. Marriage is built on trust and open communication. Do not let gossip come between you."

Abigail nodded, her face flushing a bit. "You are right," she said with a laugh. "I need to talk to Charles about this — to hear the truth from him directly."

Harriet smiled and nodded. "That's my girl! Talk to your husband, Abby. It is the only way you will ever know the whole truth."

Abigail felt tears prick at her eyes. "Thank you, Harriet," she whispered and Harriet's smile widened.

"That's what sisters are for," she said warmly. "Now, enough of this serious talk! Why don't you tell me what you find being a duchess like? I want to hear all about what you've been up to."

Abigail laughed, feeling lighter than she had in days. The rest of the conversation was light, and once the sun began to set, Abigail rose reluctantly.

"I should be getting home," she said, embracing Harriet tightly. "Thank you for everything, Harriet. Really."

Harriet hugged her back just as fiercely. "Anytime, Abby. And good luck with the conversation!"

Abigail laughed softly, her heart feeling a little lighter as she climbed into the carriage once again.