Chapter 26

Abigail's eyes went wide with worry as she met Frances' stricken expression. Anthony had come up! He would find her here and be furious, perhaps enough to throw her out of the house for good.

"What do we do?" Abigail whispered frantically, looking from Frances to Miss O'Reilly for help.

"I must hide," Frances whispered. "What about the wardrobes?"

"No, they're too full. Anthony sends more gifts almost every week. I can hardly close the doors as it is. Behind the curtain perhaps?"

"I fear he shall see my slippers or I shall knock into it and give myself away. What if he's staring right at me and I cannot know it?" Frances whispered back.

"Abigail? Is everything all right?" Anthony cried through the door.

"Yes, I'm fine! One moment please, brother!" she called back. Abigail looked around the room as Frances sought a place to hide. Her frantic whisper sent Frances scurrying. "Quickly! Under the bed!"

Frances nodded and hurried across the room. She dropped down to the floor and scrambled beneath the large bed, wedging herself in tightly and arranging the bed covers so they hung down low enough to conceal her. She saw a new pair of feet directly in front of her and realized that Miss O'Reilly was helping to hide her.

"Abigail? Is everything all right?" Anthony said loudly, his words still muted by the heavy door.

"Yes! Everything's fine! Miss O'Reilly is helping me finish dressing. It'll be only a minute longer!" Abigail cried.

"I am happy to return later if you're—"

"No! It's fine! Come in now," the girl called out, trying to keep from panting.

Frances heard the door open and she held her breath. From her vantage point, she could watch Anthony's shoes crossing the room, stopping at the table where Abigail still sat.

"Good morning, little sister. How are you feeling today?" Anthony asked with a rich warmth to his voice that Frances had never heard.

"I'm well, Anthony. It's always a good day when I see you," she replied sweetly. "Tell me all the news from downstairs."

"As always," he replied before informing her of mundane things like what the new cook had prepared for his dinner and which horse he rode yesterday while seeing to his errands.

"And your wife? Is she getting along well here at Cadmoor House?" Abigail asked innocently.

There was a thunderous pause. It was brief but heavy. To anyone who was unaware of the tension in the house, it would have gone unnoticed. But Frances knew all too well that there was deep meaning behind Anthony's hesitation.

"I think so," he said quickly.

"Miss O'Reilly, could I trouble you to bring up some tea for us?" Abigail asked. Frances heard the door open and close, signaling the nurse's departure. Abigail spoke to Anthony in earnest this time. "Anthony, you never tell me anything of the new duchess. Please, I long to know what she's like."

Frances heard Anthony's audible sigh. She couldn't see his face, but she could well imagine his stone-faced expression. She saw his feet shift on the floor in front of his chair, a nervous sort of jig that seemed like he was stalling while seeking the right words.

"She's perfect, Abigail."

Frances furrowed her brow, turning slightly in order to try to see him. It was no use, but it didn't matter. Everything about his voice was different now, giving her as much insight as if she was staring directly into his eyes.

"How is she perfect?" Abigail asked in a dreamy way that girls whose thoughts are consumed with love tend to do.

"I've told you before how beautiful she is," he began, shocking Frances entirely. "But she's smart and she's very fierce, the sort of young lady who would take up a sword and ride into battle to protect someone she loves."

Abigail giggled, and even Frances suppressed her amusement.

"Careful, brother. A girl who will fight the dragon for you has no need of a husband."

"That's what I fear," he said softly. "I fear she doesn't need me and is merely a visitor in my life."

"Then you must make her need you," Abigail explained, her tone now sounding wise beyond her years.

"This isn't a story from one of your novels, I'm afraid," Anthony said with a soft chuckle, though his voice seemed a little wistful. "It's not so simple as that."

"Why not? Don't you love her?"

"How can I know that after only a month since we first met?"

"Did you not know it from the moment you first saw her?" Abigail asked lightly.

"I don't know if it was love exactly," he confessed, and Frances strained to hear more as his voice grew quieter. She knew him just well enough to know that he was most likely looking down at his hands, watching his fingers fidget nervously.

"But it could have been…"

"Most certainly."

"And now? Do you love her?"

There was a pause that seemed to draw all the air out of the room. Frances held her breath. This has to be why Abigail had insisted on her coming up today, just to position Frances in this precise spot while she asked. But now, with no answer from Anthony, her hopes began to dwindle. What could cause someone to take so long to answer such a simple question?

"More than anything in the world, Abby."

Frances covered her mouth before her gasp of surprise could escape. Part of her felt as if she was intruding, as if she was stealing knowledge that Anthony did not intend for her to have. She justified her eavesdropping, though, but remembering that the man she'd married was likely incapable of saying these things to her, no matter how much she'd longed to hear them.

"Are you only telling me that to feed my romantic hopes? Or are you sincere?" Abigail asked, sounding somewhat suspicious.

"I am completely sincere, I promise you. I love her so much that it frightens me, for I can never know if she loves me in return. As you said yourself, she only married me to avoid a terrible fate."

"Which she didn't have to do…" his sister reminded him pointedly.

"That still doesn't mean she returns my affections. And she certainly hasn't had the easiest time following the simplest of requests. If she loved me in any way, it wouldn't be such an obstacle to simply dine with me."

"How can she love someone when she doesn't know that they love her, too? You must tell her you love her, Anthony!" Abigail pressed, her happiness evident without Frances even seeing her face.

"I don't know how, Abby. I have these feelings for her so much already, yet I hardly know her at all. She would likely think me mad. Besides, we're at odds with each other at the moment, and I do not know how to fix it."

"Because of me, you mean. Because she came up here and saw me?"

"No! It is not your fault, and don't you dare take the blame for it. I gave her a very simple request—all right, two, actually—and she's ignored both of them. I was happy to overlook her unwillingness to take her meals with me, but then she came up here and upset you. I cannot simply overlook it, no matter how much I care for her."

"But what if I don't care? She's to be my sister, after all. Would it be so bad if she was permitted to come and visit me? I know she would never tell anyone that I'm here."

Never tell anyone? What on earth was that about?Frances thought, frowning as she sought to hear more.

"And what if she does tell someone, even in passing and without knowing the harm it can cause? Then what happens? I'm afraid she hasn't proven herself to be someone who keeps her word."

Ouch, Frances thought, all of her guilt flooding through her again. Of course, it's not as though I can argue with him, for I'm hiding beneath his sister's bed to overhear him at this very moment!

"If she knew why, I'm certain she would never tell anyone. You wouldn't have married someone who couldn't use reason," Abigail protested. "Have you thought that perhaps her disobeying you is because you failed to explain why?"

"I shouldn't have to explain why. I'm the Duke of Preston," Anthony argued hotly.

"And she is the Duchess. You've said it yourself, she married you as a means of last resort. As a result, she finds herself in a house with strange people and even stranger rules. If you would only explain to her the need for the things you ask of her, I think she would have a far easier time remembering to follow them."

Abigail's dejected tone was heartbreaking, and Frances had a new reason to feel the guilt she'd borne since the day she'd uncovered this secret. The girl carried such a burden for her brother's happiness. It was unfair to ask of someone whose shoulders were so narrow! Somehow, this girl had grown wise beyond her years.

"There's no reason for disagreement, Anthony. Simply be kind and endearing. That's all she requires, I'm certain of it."

"How can a girl of your age possibly know what a wife needs, hmm?" Anthony challenged, though Frances could tell by his tone that he was teasing.

"I have a lot of time to sit and think, dear brother," Abigail countered, though her tone was far from playful. "I know it's what I would require if I were in her position. She is newly married to a man who keeps his feelings closely guarded, and you've told me yourself that the pair of you are at odds. I would wager any money I had that she will be glad to have you if you would only be cheerful and adoring."

"And if she does not? If she turns away because I'm not the man she wishes I was? Then what do you propose, hmm?"

"Then let her really know the man you are, and she will come to love that person. I know it. How could she not when you are practically perfect?" Abigail teased.

"Practically perfect? Merely ‘practically'?" Anthony joked in return, pretending to be wounded. Abigail laughed so heartily that it brought on a fit of coughing.

"I've tired you out already. I should leave you to your rest," he suggested, somber once more.

"That's probably for the best," she managed weakly. "But please come back later. For tea, perhaps? Miss O'Reilly can fetch us a fresh tray and we can discuss all of your many shortcomings further."

"I simply cannot wait," he replied sarcastically, nodding to the nurse.

"And has there been any further news on our problem?" Abigail asked as Anthony rose from his chair.

"A little. Nothing is certain, of course, but I had a rather interesting meeting with some men yesterday evening."

"An interesting meeting. I see. Tell me, is that where you got those bruises?" she asked accusingly, gesturing to the area just beneath her eye.

"I wondered how long it would be before you spoke of them, but I fear I cannot tell you anything more," Anthony said, laughing softly.

Frances watched as his feet moved once more, stepping closer to Abigail's chair. She heard him place an affectionate kiss on her cheek before he walked to the door.

"Anthony?" Abigail called back. The feet stopped and turned around. "You must tell the duchess that you love her. She deserves to hear it, not merely know it's true."

"I agree. It's just… well, it's a difficult matter, I'm afraid," Anthony answered, then he left.

The silence in the room was thick as Frances sought to see if they were alone once more. No one spoke, an unusual tableau of waiting.

"Is it safe?" Frances whispered after several moments had passed.

"No, not until the staircase door closes," Abigail whispered back. "Rachel, please go and see that he's fully gone."

"Yes, my lady," Miss O'Reilly said before hurrying after the duke on tiptoe.

When the nurse returned, Frances shimmied out from beneath the bed. She stood up straighter and smoothed the skirts of her gown, then patted her hair into place. She sat down across from Abigail and gave her a knowing look.

"So that was the reason for your invitation this morning," Frances said, cocking an eyebrow at her as she grinned. "You are quite the devious little puppet master, are you not? Orchestrating every circumstance from your lair like a clockwork inventor?"

Abigail giggled. "I know almost everything that goes on in this house, even from up here in my perch. The pair of you can simply not be trusted to work this out for yourselves, for you are both at odds with one another. So, I had to intervene on your behalf. I make no apologies for that!"

"Nor should you. It was a brilliant scheme," Frances acknowledged. "The fact that my heart is lighter is second to the joy of getting to meet you for myself, though. I have thoroughly enjoyed this visit, and not only because of your brother's appearance. Are you tired now, though? Should I go?"

"Oh no, I only agreed with him because I couldn't leave you under the bed any longer!" Abigail said, giggling once more. "Now, tell me more about your cousin. She sounds absolutely wonderful…"