Lady Abigail's Perfect Match

by Sophie Barnes

  Having passed the roses, she was now moving along a graveled path that led to a boxed-in corner where neatly trimmed hedges offered a private spot no doubt intended for contemplation. Four stone benches stood there, but Lady Abigail chose not to sit. Instead she remained standing, her back toward him as he approached.

  “Stop. Please...don’t come any closer.” Her voice was soft but firm, prompting him to comply.

  Before this moment, he would have taken offense at her wish to avoid his company. But now...

  As he stood there studying her, he noticed something tortured about her entire person. It was almost as if she were carrying some colossal weight upon her shoulders. And then, of course, there was the tear.

  “Lady Abigail.” She seemed to flinch a little in response to his voice, so he paused briefly before asking, “Is something the matter?” When she failed to respond, he gently added, “I’m sorry for what I said about not wanting to marry you. But after what you told me last night and then seeing Mr. Chesterfield treat you with such familiarity, I just—”

  “Please.” Her voice cracked beneath that one word. “I...” She drew a shuddering breath. “I am the one who owes you an apology. For not expressing myself properly.”

  She was speaking to the hedge, James noted, and yet this was the most she’d ever said while in his company. “You could do so now,” he suggested. The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he took a step forward.

  Lady Abigail gasped. “Only if you stay where you are. Please. I cannot function properly when you are near.”

  Trying not to feel affronted, James halted his progress and did as she asked. Glancing sideways, he considered the opposite side of the hedge from where she stood and crossed to that spot instead. “Very well,” he told her when she was no longer within his line of vision. “You can turn around if you wish without having to see me. And when you’re ready, I’ll listen to whatever it is you would like to say.”

  Chapter Five

  Abigail knew she was the biggest dunderhead to ever walk the earth. She didn’t dare think what Mr. Townsbridge’s opinion was of her at this moment. But she appreciated his willingness to comply with what must seem like a very strange wish indeed. Out of sight and completely silent, he gave the impression of not being there at all, which bolstered her courage.

  “When I told you that you are to blame for my feeling unwell, I neglected to let you know why.” Her stomach did a quick flutter that always preceded a nervous panic, so she took a moment to tamp down the crippling sensation and then said, “The truth of the matter is I have admired you for some time. At least three years, if you really must know. And while I will confess to being disappointed when I finally met you, all of that changed after you told me about your headache.

  “And now that I’ve gotten to know you better, I find that I really like you. A lot. So much, in fact, my heart starts pounding harder than ever before when I see you, my legs begin to tremble, and my stomach rolls over.” She paused in case he wished to respond, but when he didn’t, she continued, pretending only the garden was listening. “Every time I try to speak to you, my throat closes up and the words jam together. But the biggest problem of all is the nausea, for it makes me feel horribly unwell, not because you repel me but rather because of how handsome you are. I just...” She breathed a heavy sigh. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone else, so it caught me rather by surprise. But the fact of the matter is I think you’re wonderful. It’s just that my nerves, you see... They make it quite impossible for me to be around you without turning into an anxious ninny.”

  There. She’d said more to him than she’d meant to and there was no going back. He’d either roll his eyes and call her a blockhead or make an attempt at helping her find a way through this. When she reckoned five minutes had passed without him saying a word, she started to wonder if he might have walked away during her speech.

  She was about to call his name and ask him to share his opinion (if he was still there), when he said, “I’m just a man, Abby.”

  Abby.

  Only her family and closest friends had ever called her that. She liked hearing Mr. Townsbridge do so, for it conveyed a degree of intimacy between them that made her feel more at ease.

  Although...

  “That’s the thing,” she said in answer to his comment. “You’re not just a man. You’re...You’re the most attractive man I’ve ever known and... Oh blast!” She heard a distinct snort from behind the hedge and rushed to offer an apology.

  “No need,” he hastened to say. “In fact, I find this side of you quite refreshing.”

  That made her smile. “You like women who curse and have morbid senses of humor?”

  “I like you,” he said, “when you’re being yourself.”

  “A pity it’s only possible for me to do so with you via writing or with a hedge placed between us.”

  There was a pause, and then, “Close your eyes, Abby.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to try something.”

  “Mr. Townsbridge, I—”

  “You really should call me James.”

  Her pulse leapt in response to his smooth tone. “Very well, James.”

  “That’s better.” He paused, then asked, “Are your eyes closed now?”

  She nodded, then recalled that he wouldn’t be able to see her doing so and said, “Yes.”

  “Good. Because unless you plan to keep a constant barrier between us or only to speak with me in writing, we need to tackle your nerves and bring them to heel. After all, I would like to kiss you.”

  Her eyes flew open and he was suddenly there, just inches away. Somehow, while he’d been talking, distracting her with his words, she’d missed the fact that he’d been approaching.

  “Shh... Easy does it,” he murmured when she took a step back. “Close your eyes again so you don’t have to look at me. We’ll work through this together, all right?”

  Sucking in a deep breath, Abigail did as he asked and nodded. The queasiness that usually overcame her when he was near had started to rise the moment she’d seen him right before her. So she took another series of breaths and tried to ignore it.

  “You’re feeling ill again, aren’t you?”

  “I’m so sorry, I just—”

  “Don’t be. Now that I know why this is happening, there’s no need for you to apologize.” His comment was followed by the gentle touch of his palm against her cheek. It was wonderfully warm and inviting, and she found herself leaning against it without even thinking. “You should know that I also find you incredibly attractive.”

  Abigail’s face grew unbearably hot and her heart started skipping around as if not quite sure of where it belonged. But then she felt the soft press of James’s lips against hers, and all her focus went to that point of sensual contact. She forgot who she was and where she was. Every uncertainty she felt in his company was swept away by this new kind of touch, and all she could do was feel.

  His free hand moved to her back, settling firmly against the base of her spine and holding her steady. The other continued to cup her cheek while angling her head just so. The scent of him, a combination of sandalwood and bergamot, filled the air around her.

  Needing to steady herself in the face of the heady experience, she wound her arms around his neck, bringing herself flush against his solid chest.

  A low groan of pure satisfaction rose from his throat, stirring to life a series of new sensations inside her. Gone were the awkward nervousness and the dreaded fear she might cast up her accounts at any second. In their place was an eager need to explore this new experience to its fullest. So she didn’t draw away when he deepened the kiss, nor when he pulled her more firmly against him. Instead, she started to wish he’d do something more, though she wasn’t quite sure what that “something more” should be.

  GOD, HOW HE WANTED her. The way she responded as he kissed her proved what she’d told him was true. It wasn’t an aversion toward him that made her act stra
nge, but rather a burning desire, the likes of which he’d never known before. She’d claimed an attraction, but this was far more than that. This...this was a force that would bind them together forever and make sure they had no trouble at all in the bedroom. Hell, he was ready to lift up her skirts right now and take her against the hedge he was so bloody mad for her.

  The confession she’d made and the courage it must have taken to make it only compounded his need to claim her. Which was rather odd in a way, when considering how frustrated and angry she’d made him not so long ago.

  His hand crept down over her bottom so he could secure her more firmly against him. Christ, that felt good! And the sigh she emitted...

  He kissed her harder, releasing all of the aggravation she’d caused him, while relishing the new turn their relationship had taken. If they could maintain this degree of wild passion, they’d be all right for decades to come. But since claiming her innocence here in her parents’ garden would be utterly reprehensible, he carefully, gently, and most regrettably, eased her away and took a step back.

  Cheeks flushed and with her hair in slight disarray, she stood with her eyes still closed, looking wonderfully ravished. For a few long seconds, all James could do was stare at her, this lovely impassioned woman who’d soon be his wife.

  “That was,” he finally managed while sounding as though he’d just raced up a hill, “sensational.”

  A shy smile pulled at her lips. “I must confess, I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.”

  “I should certainly hope not,” he muttered.

  In response to which she opened her eyes and looked at him, not with unease this time, but with absolute clarity and...something he reckoned was a mixture of happiness and yearning. “You taste incredible.”

  Her remark was so unexpected, James couldn’t stop from laughing even as he felt his own cheeks grow warm. Hell, he’d never been one to blush and yet he was doing so now. “So do you,” he said when he noted the wariness in her eyes. Now that she’d started relaxing around him, he’d fight to keep her from going back inside her shell.

  “I have the oddest desire to touch you right now,” she confessed after a moment of silence. “Is that normal?”

  James coughed and made a stoic attempt not to conjure up all sorts of wonderful ways in which her hands might please him. “Um. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I want to touch you as well.” Everywhere. While they both wore fewer clothes.

  Her smile widened. And then, confirming that her mind was not as filthy as his, she held out her hand for him to take. “Thank you for helping me banish my nerves,” she said as they walked back toward the terrace. “My stomach’s still somewhat uneasy, but it’s nowhere near as bad as it was before.”

  “I’m glad.” He squeezed her hand. “And Abby, I want you to try and be honest with me from now on. No matter how hard it may be at times, confronting the truth as quickly as possible can prevent misunderstandings and save us days’ worth of aggravation.”

  “You’re right.” She glanced at him and blushed. “I’ve been very silly, I know.”

  “A little,” he conceded, “but now that I realize it’s because of how gorgeous I am, I really can’t blame you.”

  She slapped his arm and laughed, the delightful sound lifting his heart and causing his spirit to soar. Because now he was certain he and Abby would be wonderfully happy together. And nothing was going to change that.

  THE NEXT WEEK AND A half before the wedding passed in a blur. Abigail kept busy with the fitting of her wedding gown, the preparation of her trousseau, or some other wedding-related chore. In between it all, she spent as much time with James as possible, going for walks, having ices at Gunther’s, visiting museums, and simply getting to know him better. Unfortunately, they’d been alone only two times since that magical day in the garden, which meant they’d had only two chances of sharing additional kisses. Much to Abigail’s disappointment.

  “How are the preparations at Arlington House coming along?” she asked James a couple of days before the wedding while walking with him in Hyde Park. It was a muggy day and she’d woken to it with a blistering headache that dampened her mood. When James had come to call and she’d told him she wouldn’t be very good company, he’d insisted she get some exercise and a bit of fresh air.

  “Better now that I’m looking forward to my wedding night.” The wicked gleam in James’s eyes as he spoke caused her cheeks to grow hot. Grinning with rakish abandon, he tucked her hand more securely against the crook of his arm. “I do so love how easy it is for me to affect you.”

  A stabbing pain pierced Abigail’s skull at that exact moment. She winced, which caused James to frown. “Are you all right?”

  “No. No I’m not,” she grumbled.

  “Hmm.” They walked a few more paces before he said, “In answer to your question, I’ve asked Mrs. Anderson, the housekeeper, to replace some of the carpets and a few faded curtains. The entire building felt stuffy when I went to visit a few days ago so it’s also being aired out. As for the rest of the things that need doing...” He shrugged. “I thought it might be nice to do them together so you’re included in the decisions.”

  Abigail wanted to smile. Indeed, she tried to do so but ended up squeezing her eyes shut instead. “That’s very thoughtful,” she said and took a deep breath. “I really—”

  “Abby!”

  Her name, spoken so loudly it jarred her brain, forced a groan from between her clenched teeth. Recognizing the voice, she turned to find Tobias striding toward her. He’d called on her repeatedly this past week, but she’d either been out with James or otherwise occupied by wedding preparations and unable to see him.

  Frowning, he drew to a halt before her. “Good afternoon.” Eyes trained on her, he barely acknowledging James with, “Townsbridge.”

  James gave a curt nod in return.

  Abigail sighed, causing Tobias’s frown to deepen. “You don’t look well, Abby.”

  At her side, she felt James stiffen in response to Tobias’s familiar form of address. “Her head is paining her today.”

  Tobias glared at James. “Are you certain that’s all that’s the matter?”

  “I don’t really care for your tone,” James told him. “Or what you are implying.”

  Muttering something beneath his breath, Tobias returned his attention to Abigail. Concern was evident in his eyes. “I’m worried about you.”

  “You needn’t be,” Abigail said. Her voice sounded weaker than she would have liked. “Everything is fine. In fact, I couldn’t be happier.”

  Tobias gave her an odd look. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, she’s sure,” James said, his patience apparently wearing thin. “Now, if you’ll please excuse us, Mr. Chesterfield, we really must get going if we’re to return to Foxborough House in time for tea.” He gave Abigail’s arm a gentle tug.

  “Perhaps I should walk with you,” Tobias suggested.

  Fearing what James might say in response to that suggestion, Abigail hastened to say, “Thank you for the offer, Toby—” James’s arm went rigid “—but Mr. Townsbridge and I have a few things we need to discuss before the wedding.”

  Tobias did not look pleased, but he relented nonetheless. “Very well then. I shall call on you tomorrow.”

  “The devil you will,” James muttered so low that Abigail knew only she could have heard him. He tipped his hat politely and steered her away from Tobias. When they’d gone a few paces he told her plainly, “I cannot abide that man.”

  Abigail sighed. “He’s just being protective of me.”

  “Because he’s in love with you,” James growled.

  She couldn’t help but smile in response to his possessive tone, no matter how much her head hurt. “You needn’t be jealous.”

  “Jealous? Ha! Of all the preposterous things to suggest.”

  A low chuckle escaped her, causing another jolt of pain. Abigail did her best to relax her features. “Either way, Toby’s feeli
ngs—”

  “Would you please stop calling him that!”

  “Fine.” Abigail hadn’t wanted to get annoyed with James, but his overbearingness coupled with her headache was starting to be an unbearable burden. “Mr. Chesterfield’s feelings hardly matter since I am not in love with him.”

  “It matters when he’s making eyes at my fiancée in public,” James grumbled.

  “Honestly, I think you’re imagining something that isn’t there.”

  “Am not!”

  She shot him a look that she hoped would inform him of just how childish she thought he was being. “You are the man I want to marry. Isn’t that enough?”

  He glanced at her and finally smiled. “Of course it is.” Raising her hand to his lips, he placed a kiss upon her gloved knuckles.

  “So then you’ll agree to forget about everyone else and just focus on the two of us?”

  “Your wish is my command,” James assured her.

  His answer lifted her spirits and banished all her concerns.

  FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS, James did his best to put the uncomfortable encounter with Mr. Chesterfield out of his mind. After all, as Abigail had correctly pointed out, it shouldn’t matter if he had feelings for her since the only feelings that mattered in this case were hers. And after everything she’d told James, he knew with absolute certainty that he was the man she desired. And if her words didn’t prove it, the two additional kisses they’d managed to share in secret this past week did.

  Fervent and eager, Abigail left no doubt in his mind that their union would be a passionate one. And nothing thrilled him more. Which was probably why he arrived at the church on Saturday morning half an hour before the service was set to take place.

  Having chosen to spend the last night of his bachelorhood at the house he’d be sharing from this day forward with his wife, he’d risen especially early on account of the restless excitement bubbling inside him. The clock on his dresser had shown only ten after five, so he’d tried to go back to sleep, only to fail. Deciding to read for a bit, he’d picked up the book he’d recently been keeping on his bedside table. Abigail had recommended it, a fascinating account of Captain Cook’s travels to New Zealand.