Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

F or Abigail, waiting for an answer from Charles was torture indeed — especially since she had no idea what she'd do if he agreed to continue with the lessons. She was certain that Harriet would tell Hugh if she attempted to continue behind his back.

Furthermore, she was quite certain that she would not be able to maintain her composure if they spent any amount of time with her.

As such, she kept to herself, nursing her wounded pride and trying to find some semblance of peace in the solitude of her own company. It was not until the third day of her self-imposed exile that a knock sounded at her door, startling her from her brooding thoughts.

"Abigail?" Hugh's voice called from the other side, a note of hesitation in his tone. "Can I come in?"

Abigail hesitated, her heart clenching at the sound of her brother's voice. Part of her wanted to refuse him, to cling to her anger and her hurt like a shield against the outside world. But another part — the part that loved Hugh fiercely despite their differences — could not bear to shut him out any longer.

"Come in," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

The door creaked open, and Hugh stepped inside, his face etched with concern and regret. He looked tired, Abigail realized with a pang of guilt, as though he hadn't slept well in days.

"I am sorry to disturb ye," he said softly, moving to sit beside her on the bed. "But I needed to talk to ye before I left."

Abigail frowned, confusion wrinkling her brow. "Left? Where are you going?"

Hugh sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "I have to go away for a few days on business. There's a matter with one of our lands that requires my personal attention."

Abigail nodded impassively at this. In truth, as much as she loved her brother, a part of her was glad to have some space, some time to sort through her own thoughts and feelings without the constant pressure of Hugh's presence.

"I see," she said at last, her voice carefully neutral. "Well, I hope your trip goes well."

Hugh was silent for a moment, his gaze searching her face as though trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression. "Abby," he said at last, his voice low and earnest. "I know things have been strained between us lately, and I know that's largely my fault. I've been too hard on ye, too controlling and overprotective."

Abigail looked up at her brother earnestly and he sighed.

"I just want ye to know," he continued, his hand reaching out to cover hers where it lay on the bedspread, "that I do trust ye, Abby. I know ye're a smart, capable young woman, with a good head on yer shoulders. It's just... it is hard for me to watch ye grow up, to let go of the little girl I've spent my whole life trying to protect."

Abigail felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, a lump rising in her throat at the raw emotion in Hugh's voice. "Oh, Hugh," she whispered, her fingers tightening around his. "I know you're only trying to keep me safe. But you have to let me make my own choices, and my own mistakes. It's the only way I'll ever learn, and grow into the person I am meant to be."

Hugh nodded, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I know, lass. And I am trying, truly I am. It's just... the ton can be a cruel, unforgiving place, especially for those of us who do not quite fit the mold. I've seen firsthand how quickly they can turn on someone, how easily they can destroy a reputation or a future with a few well-placed whispers."

He sighed, his gaze distant as though lost in some painful memory. "I do not want that for ye, Abby. I do not want to see ye hurt or ostracized, or made to feel like you're anything less than the brilliant, beautiful soul ye are."

Abigail's heart clenched, a fierce rush of love and gratitude welling up within her at her brother's words. "I know, Hugh. And I appreciate that, more than you can possibly know. But I am not a child anymore. I am a woman now, with my own hopes and dreams and desires. And if I am ever going to find my place in this world, I need to be able to navigate it on my own terms — to make my own way forward."

Hugh was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, with a heavy sigh, he nodded, his grip on her hand tightening fractionally. "Ye're right, Abby. As much as it pains me to admit it, ye're right. I can't keep you locked away forever, safe from the world and all its dangers. If you truly want to continue your lessons with the duke, to learn the ways of the ton and find yer own path... then I won't stand in yer way."

Abigail's eyes widened with relief. "Really?" she breathed, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. "You mean it, Hugh? You'll let me continue my studies with the duke, without interference or objection?"

Hugh nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Aye, lass. On one condition."

Abigail's heart sank, a flicker of trepidation racing through her at the sudden seriousness in her brother's tone. "What condition?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hugh's gaze bore into hers, fierce and unwavering. "That ye guard yer heart, Abigail. That ye do not let yerself get swept away by the duke's charm or his flattery, that ye do not mistake his attentions for anything more than a mere flirtation."

He leaned forward, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. "I don't fancy havin' him as a brother-in-law."

Abigail flushed, a hot rush of embarrassment and indignation flooding through her at her brother's blunt words. "Hugh!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with reproach. "It's not like that at all! The duke is a perfect gentleman, and he's never once made any improper advances or insinuations towards me."

Hugh held up a placating hand, his expression softening fractionally. "I am glad to hear that. I just want to protect ye, lassie. But I am rather serious. The day I welcome that rake into my family is the day I take up embroidery and start wearing bonnets to tea."

Abigail laughed, the sound bright and joyous as it echoed through the room. "Oh, I do not know, Hugh. I think you'd look rather fetching in a bonnet. It would bring out the blue in your eyes."

Hugh growled, reaching out to tug playfully on a lock of her hair. "Impudent whelp," he grumbled, but there was no heat in his words, only a fond exasperation that made Abigail's heart swell with love.

"I promise, Hugh," she said softly, her laughter fading into a more serious expression. "I won't let myself get carried away by the duke's attentions."

Even as the words left her lips, Abigail felt a flicker of doubt — a tiny voice in the back of her mind that whispered of the duke's piercing blue eyes and roguish smile, the way her heart raced and her skin tingled whenever he was near. But she pushed it aside, burying it deep beneath the layers of her newfound resolve. She would not let herself be swayed by sentiment or emotion, would not let herself fall prey to the same foolish fantasies that had led so many women astray.

Hugh nodded, a look of relief crossing his face at her words. "Good lass," he murmured, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "Ye've got a good head on your shoulders, Abby. Do not let anyone tell ye otherwise."

With that, he rose to his feet, squeezing her hand one last time before turning to take his leave. "I'll be back in a few days," he said, pausing at the threshold to look back at her. "Until then... be safe, be smart, and do not do anything I wouldn't do."

Abigail grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Why Hugh, that leaves me with an awful lot of leeway. Are you sure you want to give me that much freedom?"

Hugh laughed, shaking his head in rueful amusement. "Aye, lass. I am sure. I trust you, Abby. Even if I do not always show it in the best way."

With that, he was gone, the door closing softly behind him and leaving Abigail alone with her thoughts once more. But this time, the silence felt different, less oppressive and more contemplative, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and a new path had been opened up before her.

She sat there for a long while, staring out of the window at the verdant grounds of the estate, her mind awhirl with possibilities and plans. It was not until a soft knock sounded at the door that she stirred from her reverie, a small smile playing about her lips as she called out for her visitor to enter.

"Abigail?" Harriet's voice was soft, almost hesitant as she poked her head around the door. "I hope I am not disturbing you. I just... I wanted to see how you were doing, after everything that's happened."

Abigail smiled, gesturing for her sister-in-law to come in and join her. "You're not disturbing me at all, Harriet. In fact, I could use some company right about now."

Harriet's face lit up, relief and affection mingling in her eyes as she crossed the room to settle herself beside Abigail on the bed. "I am glad to hear it," she said softly, reaching out to take Abigail's hand in her own. "I know things have been... tense, lately. But let's not talk about that — I am dying of curiosity. What is the season like for you? Are there any suitors that have caught your eye yet?"

"Harriet!" Abigail looked at her sister-in-law, scandalized, and her cheeks grew hot. "You are so direct!"

Harriet merely laughed easily and shook her head. "Oh, come now," she insisted. "I have been caught in the manor for what feels like ages. Allow me something!"

Abigail laughed with a soft shake of her head. "There haven't really been many men who seemed as though they were interested in much more than a dance," she admitted, biting her lip. "And the women…"

"Ugh, I know," Harriet spoke softly. "Some of the ladies of the ton can be… cruel."

"Yes!" Abigail let out quickly, her eyes catching Harriet's. "It feels as though they are just waiting for you to mess up so that they can tell you how awful you are."

"You are right about that," Harriet admitted and sighed. "So tell me… who is the worst of the worst this season?"

"Amelia Belmont," Abigail said immediately, a scowl settling upon her fair features. "She is horrible — she pretends to be so sweet and kind, but everything she says has a scathing undertone to it."

"I know what you mean, there were a few ladies like that when I was still waiting to be courted. I am so glad Hugh saved me from them."

Abigail laughed, the sound bright and joyous as it echoed through the room and Harriet grinned. "Speaking of our protective man. He told me that he's given you his blessing to continue your lessons with the Duke of Grouton. That must be a relief, after all the tension and disagreement of the past few days."

Abigail flushed, a sudden shyness overtaking her at the mention of the duke. "It is," she admitted, her voice soft and hesitant. "I just... I do not want Hugh to worry, Harriet. I do not want him to think that I am going to let myself get swept away by the duke's charm or his flattery. I know better than that."

Harriet smiled, squeezing Abigail's hand in a gesture of comfort and support. "I know you do, Abby. You're a smart, level-headed girl with sense."

Abigail nodded, a small, determined smile playing about her lips. "Exactly. The duke offered to help — and I would be a fool not to accept."

"I wrote him a note," Abigail admitted suddenly, a flush appearing on her face. "I knew Hugh would not approve, but I did it anyway and… well, I asked him to continue the lessons. And now that Hugh is alright with it, all is well except…"

She sighed and a frown appeared between her brows. "Except I fear that he will not return the note," she admitted and Harriet looped her arm through Abigail's.

"Think not of it too much," she advised. "Give him time — I am certain he will come around. In the meantime, we might as well spend a bit of time in the library. I do believe there are a few new books that need perusal."

Abigail grinned at this and tapped Harriet's hand lightly as she followed her to the library.

"You know just how to get my mind off things," she whispered as the women walked down the corridor together.

The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur of reading and conversation, the two women losing themselves in the pages of romances and the latest society gossip. It was not until dinner that Abigail was pulled from her literary reverie, a footman appearing at her elbow with a silver tray bearing a single, cream-colored envelope.

Heart in her throat, Abigail reached for the letter, her fingers trembling slightly as she broke the seal and unfolded the heavy parchment. There, in bold, elegant script, were the words she had been hoping for:

Dear Lady Abigail,

It would be my great pleasure to expedite our lessons at your earliest convenience. I shall call upon you tomorrow afternoon if that is agreeable to you.

Until then, I remain your most humble and devoted servant,

Charles Rowling, Duke of Grouton

Abigail's heart raced, a flush of excitement and anticipation coloring her cheeks as she read and reread the brief missive. Tomorrow. He would be here tomorrow, ready to guide her through the treacherous waters of the ton once more.