Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

T he carriage came to a stop in front of Grouton Manor, the familiar sight of home bringing a sense of relief to both Charles and Abigail. As they stepped down from the carriage, Charles offered his hand to his wife, his touch gentle yet firm. Their eyes met, and in that moment, all the tension and uncertainty of the past few hours seemed to melt away.

Once inside, Charles led Abigail to the drawing room, closing the door behind them for privacy. They stood facing each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between them.

"So…" Charles said at last. "About that promise."

A blush rose to Abigail's cheeks and she looked down, though Charles placed a finger under her chin to lift her head so she could meet his gaze.

He took a deep breath, stepping closer to her. "I know we made a promise not to fall in love, but... I am not sorry that I have broken that promise. I love you, Abigail. I have fallen completely, irrevocably in love with you. And I would not have it any other way."

Tears welled up in Abigail's eyes, a smile blooming on her face. "Oh, Charles," she whispered. "I believe I broke that promise first. I love you too. I've been trying so hard not to, but I could not help it."

Charles pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if he never wanted to let go. "When did you know?" he asked, his voice muffled against her hair.

Abigail laughed softly, pulling back to look up at him. "I think I have been falling for you since the beginning, but I realized it that day in the summerhouse. When you showed me that special place from your childhood... I saw the real you, and I knew I was in love."

Charles smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "For me, it was the night of the Fairfax ball. Seeing you there, so beautiful and radiant... I suddenly could not imagine my life without you."

They stood there for a moment, basking in the glow of their newfound honesty. Then, as if struck by the same thought, they both burst into laughter.

"We have been such fools, have we not?" Abigail said, shaking her head in amusement.

Charles nodded, grinning. "Utter fools. But no more. From now on, we face everything together, with complete honesty."

"I like the sound of that," Abigail agreed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

As they broke apart, Charles's expression turned thoughtful. "I think we should celebrate this new beginning," he said. "How would you feel about visiting your family? I'm sure they would love to hear our good news."

Abigail's face lit up at the suggestion. "That is a wonderful idea. I have not seen Hugh in so long — he is always at work when I visit. Though I do suspect Lady Lourne will tell us that she knew all along."

Charles only laughed, and within the hour, they were back in the carriage, this time heading towards the Wilkinson estate. The journey seemed to fly by, filled with soft conversation and tender glances. When they arrived, Abigail could barely contain her excitement as she practically dragged Charles to the front door.

Abigail beamed when the butler led the pair to the study where Hugh sat with little Graham in his arms, Harriet next to him.

"Well, well," Hugh said, his eyes twinkling as he looked between Charles and Abigail. "What has brought about this unexpected visit? And why do you both look like cats that got into the cream?"

Abigail glanced at Charles, who nodded encouragingly. "Well," she began, unable to keep the smile from her face, "Charles and I have some news. We... we have fallen in love."

"Oh, I knew it," Harriet let out with a joyous laugh. "Hugh, darling, did I not tell you?"

Hugh laughed softly. "She did," he admitted. "In fact, ever since the pair of you spent some time dancing while my wife could hardly reach the pianoforte, she was adamant that ye were made for each other."

Harriet merely laughed and Hugh turned his attention to Charles. "I must admit, Grouton, I had my doubts about ye at first. But seeing how happy you have made my sister... well, I am proud to have ye as my brother-in-law."

Charles felt a lump form in his throat at Hugh's words. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Your approval means more to me than you know."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of laughter and joy. They shared the story of Beatrice's scheme and its ultimate failure, earning gasps of shock and outrage from Harriet and Hugh. But even that dark cloud couldn't dampen their spirits for long.

As the sun began to set, Charles and Abigail reluctantly took their leave, promising to visit again soon. The carriage ride home was filled with a comfortable silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts about the wonderful day they'd had.

When they arrived back at Grouton Manor, Charles helped Abigail down from the carriage, but instead of heading inside, he led her to the garden. They strolled hand in hand through the fragrant roses, eventually coming to a stop beneath the old willow tree.

Charles turned to face Abigail, taking both her hands in his. "Abigail," he said softly, "I know we have already said it, but I want you to know how much I truly love you. You have brought light and joy into my life in a way I never thought possible. I never want you to doubt that."

Abigail felt tears prick at her eyes as she gazed up at him. "Oh, Charles," she whispered. "I love you too, more than I can ever express."

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of his love and devotion. When they finally parted, both breathless and flushed, Abigail bit her lip, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face.

"Charles," she said hesitantly, "what about your mother? Do you think... do you think she'll ever accept me?"

Charles cupped her face gently, his thumb stroking her cheek. "My darling," he said firmly, "my mother will learn to love you. How could she not? You are impossible not to love."

Abigail smiled, leaning into his touch. "And you might be a tad biased," she teased.

"Perhaps," Charles conceded with a chuckle. "But I'm also right. Give her time, Abigail. She will come around, I promise you."

As they stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, Abigail felt a sense of peace wash over her.

"Come," Charles said, offering her his arm. "Let us go inside. I believe we have a lifetime of happiness to start planning."

Abigail took his arm, her heart full to bursting with love and joy. As they walked back to the house, she couldn't help but marvel at how drastically her life had changed in such a short time. From a marriage of convenience to a love deeper than she'd ever dreamed possible, it felt like a fairy tale come true.

It was mere days later when Abigail found herself in the drawing room, sitting with a book upon her lap, though her eyes had long since stopped following the words on the page. Her mind wandered, replaying the events of the past few days. The sound of footsteps in the hallway drew her attention, and she looked up to see Charles striding into the room, a newspaper clutched in his hand.

"Abigail, my love," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I believe you will want to see this."

She set her book aside, curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

Charles unfolded the newspaper with a flourish, clearing his throat dramatically. "Ahem."

" The Toast of the Ton: Duchess of Grouton Shines in Wake of Scandal "

Abigail's eyes widened. "Oh, Charles, you are not serious."

"Oh, but I am," he replied, grinning as he perched on the arm of her chair. "Shall I continue?"

At Abigail's nod, he read on.

"In the days following the shocking revelation of Lady Beatrices machinations, the ton has found itself captivated by the grace and poise of one woman: Her Grace, the Duchess of Grouton."

Abigail felt her cheeks flush. "Oh, goodness," she murmured, but Charles was not finished.

"Where lesser women might have gloated or sought revenge, the Duchess has shown remarkable restraint and dignity. Her recent appearance at Lady Ashworth's soirée was nothing short of triumphant, with one observer noting, ‘She carried herself like a queen, head held high and not a hint of smugness about her.'"

Charles paused, looking down at Abigail with pride shining in his eyes. "It seems you have quite won over the gossip columnists, my love."

Abigail shook her head, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure coloring her cheeks. "I am sure it is all exaggeration. I have done nothing special."

"On the contrary," Charles insisted, taking her hand in his. "You have been exactly who you are — kind, gracious, and utterly charming. The ton can't help but fall in love with you, just as I have."

Abigail squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with affection. "You just think that because you love me," she teased.

"Guilty as charged," Charles admitted with a chuckle. "But apparently, I am not the only one who sees your worth."

He turned back to the paper, his expression growing more serious. "There is more," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "About Beatrice."

Abigail sat up straighter, her curiosity mingled with a touch of apprehension. "What does it say?"

Charles scanned the column, his brow furrowed. "It seems she has left London. The paper says she's been sent to live with an aunt in the countryside."

"Oh," Abigail breathed, a twinge of sympathy coursing through her. "I suppose it's for the best."

Charles nodded, setting the paper aside. "The ton can be merciless when someone falls from grace. I imagine it would have been unbearable for her to stay."

Abigail stood, moving to the window. She gazed out at the manicured gardens, lost in thought. "I cannot help but feel a bit sorry for her," she admitted softly.

Charles came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "That is because you have a kind heart," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "But I am glad she is gone — good riddance."

Abigail leaned back against him, drawing comfort from his solid presence. "Do you think she'll ever be welcomed back?"

Charles sighed, his breath tickling her ear. "It is hard to say. The ton has a long memory for scandal, but they also love a good redemption story. Only time will tell."

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a gentle breeze rustled through the rose bushes outside. Abigail turned in Charles's arms, looking up at him with a small smile.

"Well," she said, her voice taking on a lighter tone, "I suppose we should be grateful that our own scandal had a much happier ending."

Charles laughed, pulling her closer. "Indeed we should," he agreed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Though I must say, I rather enjoy being the subject of scandal with you, my dear."

Abigail swatted his arm playfully. "Charles! Do not even joke about such things. I have had quite enough scandal to last a lifetime, thank you very much."

He captured her hand, bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss. "As you wish, my love. Though I cannot promise we won't cause a stir now and then. After all, we are rather scandalously in love."

Abigail's laughter filled the room, bright and joyous. As Charles pulled her in for a kiss, she marveled at how far they'd come. From a marriage of convenience to a love that made her heart soar, it was more than she could have ever dreamed.

As they broke apart, Abigail's eyes fell on the discarded newspaper. "You know," she mused, "perhaps we should save that article. It might be amusing to look back on years from now."

Charles grinned, reaching for the paper. "An excellent idea, my dear. Shall we put it in the summerhouse? It could be the start of a family archive."