Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

T he carriage ride back to Grouton Manor passed in a blur of nervous anticipation. By the time Abigail arrived home, it was almost time for dinner and she rushed to her bedchamber, changing into a simple evening gown and steeling herself for the conversation ahead.

As she descended the stairs for dinner, her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Charles was already sitting at the table when she entered the dining room and he rose to greet her, a warm smile on his lips.

"Abigail," he said, pulling out her chair. "I hope you had a pleasant day. I do apologize for being so impossibly busy with work lately."

"It's alright," Abigail said with a smile. "I visited Harriet and the baby today."

"Ah, how are they?" Charles asked, with genuine interest in his voice.

"They're well," Abigail replied, her voice soft. "Graham is growing so quickly."

They lapsed into silence as the first course was served and Abigail pushed her food around her plate, her appetite deserting her as she tried to summon the courage to broach the heaviness weighing on her mind.

It was Charles who spoke first, a thin frown between his brows.

"Abigail… if you will forgive my bluntness. Is something the matter?"

Abigail nodded slowly and he tilted his head.

"Talk to me."

"You are right, Charles," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "There is something I need to discuss with you."

Charles looked up, his brow furrowing at her serious tone. "Of course, Abigail. What is it?"

Abigail felt her cheeks flush as she struggled to find the right words. "I… I want you to know that… I do not want you to think… I mean… you're a good husband, you've been a good husband," she said at last. "And I know… I believe that you wouldn't be unfaithful, but… for my peace of mind, I need to ask you something."

Charles set down his fork, giving her his full attention. "Go on," he said gently and she took another deep breath — forcing herself to meet his gaze.

"I… I've noticed a certain way in which women react to you," she said at last. "At the market, at parties… at the inn we visited. And then… I've heard rumors. About your past and I just need to know… Have you… were any of those women…"

She trailed off, unable to finish the question, but Charles seemed to understand.

His expression softened and he reached out a hand to take hers.

"Ah," he said softly. "So that is what has been bothering you. I knew something was off. I saw it at the inn, and again at the Pembertons', but I could not quite put my finger on what it was."

Abigail nodded, her cheeks burning even hotter. "I am sorry," she whispered. "I do not mean to pry or to accuse. I just…"

"No, no," Charles interrupted gently. "You have every right to ask, Abigail. And I am glad you did. I want there to be honesty between us."

He paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts before he continued. "I won't lie to you. I have had my fair share of… let's call them flirtations… in the past. But none of the women you've seen me act with were past… liaisons. I enjoy a bit of harmless flirting now and then — or at least I did. But that's all it ever was. Harmless."

"But they all seem to know you so well. They seem so… familiar with you," Abigail pressed, her brow furrowed. "Like that barmaid at the inn or Lady Constance at the party…"

Charles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose I have built up something of a reputation over the years and… perhaps I have managed to make some women feel a tad too comfortable with my demeanor. But Abigail, I want you to understand… it was never more than playful banter. I've never taken it further with any of them."

"And now?" The question left her lips before she could help herself and Charles smiled, a hint of warmth in his eyes.

"Now I am married. And I have stopped. To be honest, it is not even fun anymore."

Abigail tilted her head, curiosity overriding her embarrassment. "Why not?"

Charles shrugged, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I am not sure," he admitted at last. "It feels… unnecessary. Besides, I have a wife and as unconventional as this marriage may be, I intend to be a loyal husband."

Abigail smiled hesitantly and she looked up, her eyes meeting Charles's. A jolt of electricity ran through Abigail, the air between them crackling with unspoken emotion.

It was Charles who broke the intense gaze, his smile turning playful. "Well," he said lightly, "I hope that puts your mind at ease, my dear wife."

Abigail nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It does," she admitted lightly. "But I cannot help but wonder… these rumors about your past are quite… well, widespread. Does it bother you? What people say about you?"

Charles was quiet for a moment, seemingly considering her question. "I suppose it should," he said at last. "But I have learned over the years that people will talk no matter what you do. I cannot control their gossip, but I can refuse to let their gossip dictate my actions."

Abigail could not help but smile. "That is… quite impressive," she said at last, surprised by his approach and Charles laughed.

"You sound surprised," he teased. "But you ought to know by now that I do have my moments."

Abigail could not help but laugh, and she found herself studying her husband with new eyes. The longer they were married, the more human and approachable he started to seem. Where he sat now, his cravat loosened and his hair slightly mussed after a long day, it was a far cry from the stiff man in the top hat that had visited her at her brother's manor the first time.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I appreciate your… well, candor."

Charles reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "I am glad you spoke to me," he said now. "Should anything trouble you in relation to us… to our marriage… it is important that we talk about it. We are in this together after all."

Abigail smiled at this — the thought of them being in this marriage together was one that heartened her.

Still, as appreciative as Abigail was of Charles's candor, there was still something nagging at the back of her mind — one last piece of the puzzle that she needed to understand.

"Charles," she said earnestly, setting down her fork and looking at him. "There is one more thing I wanted to ask you about."

He looked up from his dessert, his brows lifted. "Yes?"

Abigail swallowed hard, steeling herself. "I… I heard about your previous engagement, too," she said softly. "I was wondering… what happened? People say… that you practically left the girl at the altar, that she was heartbroken and…"

The change in Charles's demeanor was instantaneous. He pursed his lips and the warmth in his eyes faded to a guarded look.

The relaxed atmosphere that had settled between them vanished.

"I prefer not to discuss that," he said, his voice clipped. Abigail blinked, taken aback by his sudden coldness.

"I am sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to pry, I just thought…"

"It is not a topic I wish to revisit," Charles interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Please, Abigail. Do not ask me about it again."

Abigail felt a flicker of frustration. "But you just said that it was important to talk about things," she said with a frown. "Surely I have a right to know about your past — especially something as significant as a broken engagement."

Charles's jaw tightened and he shook his head. "Some things are better left in the past," he said coldly. "This is one of them."

"But why?" Abigail pressed, unable to let it go. "What could have happened that was so terrible that you cannot even speak of it?"

"Enough!" Charles said, his voice sharp, and Abigail flinched. He turned to look at her, his face dark with frustration. "I have said that I do not want to discuss this and I need you to respect that. Understood?"

Abigail nodded mutely. It felt as though she'd been dunked into an icy lake and her heart was heavy in her chest. Gone was the easy rapport they'd built up over the course of the conversation. Now it felt as though there was a mountain that had risen between them.

"I understand," she said softly, though in truth, she did not understand at all. Why was this topic so forbidden? Especially after his candor about his past? What had happened that he was so desperate to hide?

Her heart twinged achingly in her chest. Was it possible that he still loved the woman he had left?

They finished their dessert in silence, though it was a far cry from the comfort they'd shared before. Now, tension hung heavy in the air and Abigail found herself wishing she could take back her ill-timed question.

As the last plates were cleared away, Charles stood abruptly. "If you will excuse me," he said stiffly. "I have some work to attend to in my study."

Before Abigail could respond, he was gone, leaving her alone at the table. She sighed heavily as she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet.

As she slowly trudged back to her bedchamber, Abigail could not help but feel a sense of melancholy settle over her. The evening had started so promisingly with Charles's reassurance about his past flirtations. For a moment, she'd felt closer to him than ever before.

But now, with his refusal to discuss this broken engagement, she felt further away from him than ever before. She could not understand what it was that had happened in Charles's past that he was so determined to keep hidden. And, with his blatant refusal to discuss it, she wondered if she'd ever truly know the man she married.

Abigail paused by the window in her bedchamber and she gazed out at the moonlit gardens below. The roses that had seemed to mock her with its beauty earlier, now looked sad and lonely in the pale moonlight. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes.

She thought back to her conversation with Harriet. Her sister-in-law had advised her to judge Charles by his actions rather than rumors or gossip.

She stifled a sob and shook her head. "What would you say about his reaction tonight, Harriet?" she asked softly, her lower lip trembling.

Only mocking silence greeted the question and Abigail turned to her closet, moving stiffly as she changed into her night shirt. There was nothing she wanted to do more than give in to the tears that had been threatening to fall.