“Never in a million years would I have supposed that this is the sort of literature you enjoy,” he’d teasingly told her.
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
“Of course not,” he’d said while considering the leather bound tome with interest. “It’s because so much of it takes place aboard a ship.” When she’d looked puzzled, he’d said, “If I’m not mistaken, you told me just last week that you don’t like sailing.”
Her laughter had brightened her eyes and squeezed at his heart. “Reading about it is not exactly the same.”
“Hmm. Miss Austen’s novels take place on land though. Would you not prefer them instead?”
She’d placed both hands on her hips and regarded him suspiciously. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this is your way of trying to figure out why I prefer informative narratives rather than romantic nonsense.”
He’d smirked. “My sisters seem to enjoy what you claim to be romantic nonsense. And if you must know, I’ve actually read a couple of Miss Austen’s books myself.” When Abigail’s eyes had widened with disbelief, he’d leaned toward her and told her smugly, “I even happened to enjoy them.”
Her gasp of surprise had made him grin. “I’ll tell you what. If you read Emma, then I’ll read this. Once we’re done we’ll exchange opinions.”
She’d agreed, much to his delight, and they’d decided to allow two weeks for them both to finish their respective books.
It was seven by the time James decided to rise. He called for his valet, who brought him a much appreciated cup of hot coffee to start the day on, and then helped him dress. By eight o’clock, James was downstairs having breakfast and reading the morning paper. He was just about to get up from the table after finishing off a second slice of toast when the butler brought him a letter.
Recognizing the writing as Abigail’s, he felt a rush of unease dart through him, but this was soon banished the moment he read her message.
My dearest James,
I thought I should let you know that the funeral is off, just in case you need to cancel any caskets you may have ordered without my knowing. Instead, I look forward to many long years of happiness by your side.
Yours always,
Abby
James smiled and tucked the missive into his jacket pocket. Most people would find such a letter morbid. The fact that Abigail didn’t and that she actually encouraged this strange form of humor made her all the more interesting. She was fun and she was different and heaven help him if he wasn’t falling for her in ways he never would have expected.
It was eleven o’clock by the time all the guests were seated in the pews at the church. Standing near the altar with William by his side, James waited expectantly for his bride to arrive. The doors at the far end of the aisle would open at any moment, they’d say their vows, endure a tedious wedding breakfast at Foxborough House, and finally embark on their happily ever after.
Someone coughed, the sound reverberating through the building. Fabric rustled as some of the guests shifted in their seats. William sighed but refrained from uttering a word. James caught Charles’s gaze and started to panic. Surely she ought to have been here by now.
Retrieving his pocket watch, he took quick note of the time. It was ten after eleven. He glanced at the vicar, who raised his brows and shrugged his shoulders, which wasn’t the least bit helpful.
And then the doors at the end of the aisle did start to open and James breathed a sigh of relief. Until he saw that Abigail was absent. Only her father, Lord Foxborough, appeared, and he was now walking swiftly toward him.
A strange and uncomfortable feeling grabbed hold of James’s gut. He knew before Foxborough spoke that something dreadful had happened, for the look in the marquess’s eyes revealed both anger and fear.
“What is it?” James asked. “Where’s Abby?”
“She’s been kidnapped,” Foxborough whispered, so low only James and William would hear. “Mr. Chesterfield snatched her straight out of the carriage and whisked her away. They’re on their way to Gretna Green as we speak.”
A chill swept across James’s shoulders as angst panic into his bones. And then, determined to reject the feeling, anger set it. He balled both hands into fists. “Thank you for letting me know.”
He crossed to where his family sat, waiting for him to explain what was happening while murmurs began filling the air. “I’m heading to Scotland,” he said, directing the comment mostly at Charles and his father.
“Good heavens,” his mother exclaimed. “You can’t do that. You’re about to be married and—”
“Only if I can manage to find Abby.”
His mother gasped and started saying something about causing a scandal, which was understandable since it apparently seemed impossible for any of her sons to marry without one. And while James sympathized, he hadn’t the time to ease her concerns. He turned and headed toward the exit, almost reaching it when he realized he was being followed by Abigail’s brother.
“We can take my carriage,” Lance said as they burst out into the street. “It’s right over there.”
“I don’t need your help,” James told him icily.
“I’m offering it anyway,” Lance said. “My phaeton will be faster than any of the cumbersome landaus.”
Accepting the truth in his comment, James relented and followed Lance across the street to where the sportiest vehicle he’d ever seen stood waiting. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d ever sat in, he decided as Lance whipped the horses into motion. In fact, the speed at which it travelled combined with its spindly wheels made it a rather terrifying mode of transportation.
“You know,” James said as they headed toward the north road, “Abby would be my wife by now if it weren’t for your idiot friend.” Perhaps talking would distract him from his visions of death and disaster at the hands of Lance’s insane driving skills.
“Hence my eagerness to help you find her,” Lance remarked. “Toby isn’t so bad but he’s not the right match for my sister. No matter how much he’d like to be.”
James gritted his teeth. He wasn’t particularly keen on resorting to murder, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself where Mr. Chesterfield was concerned. The foolish man had crossed a line and somehow, he was going to have to pay.
Chapter Six
One hour earlier (more or less) outside Foxborough House
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Abigail asked as Tobias yanked her out of the carriage that was meant to convey her and her father to the church. “This is not the time for—”
“Mr. Chesterfield,” her father called. “Release my daughter this instant!” The coachman clambered down from his box, ready to offer assistance while a pair of footmen hurried down the front steps of Foxborough House.
Tobias must have realized he was about to be stopped from whatever foolishness he was planning for he practically threw Abigail onto his horse as if she were a bale of hay being tossed onto a cart.
She landed belly down with a loud, “Oomph!”
Then Tobias mounted the steed himself. “I’m better for her than Mr. Townsbridge,” he shouted, “so I’m taking her to Scotland in order to make her mine!” The horse reared back and Abigail screamed, convinced she would fall to her death. But the beast slammed its front hooves onto the ground and took off as if the devil himself were in pursuit.
A hand gripped her bottom, adjusting her position.
“Good God, Toby! Let me down!”
He ignored her completely. It didn’t matter how much she kicked or screamed, he just kept riding. “I am going to kill you,” she tried. “But before I do, I shall have you tarred and feathered.” The horse didn’t stop. In fact, it felt as though it ran faster as they left London behind and started along the north road. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Toby. Do you hear me? I want to marry James!”
“No, you don’t,” Tobias finally muttered. “You’re miserable when you’re around him
. But with me, you’ll be happy.”
“No, I won’t!” She tried to grab at him with her hands in an effort to make him stop, but as she did so, she made a maneuver that caused her weight to distribute in such a way that she found herself falling.
“Dear God,” Tobias shouted while she screamed in terror. And then she hit the ground with a thwack and the world she knew turned to darkness.
WHEN ABIGAIL CAME TO, she noticed three things. One, everything hurt; two, she was tucked into a comfortable bed; and three, the man who’d put her there stood too far away for her to hit.
“I’d like to strangle you right now,” she said.
He spun away from the window he’d been looking out of and rushed to her side. “You’re awake,” he gasped with heartfelt concern. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. “I’ve been so dreadfully worried about you.”
Abigail shook her head while trying to come to grips with what he had done. Avoiding another scandal would be impossible since she’d failed to appear at the church. People would talk and draw all sorts of conclusions. In truth, there was no way out of this mess that did not involve her being dragged through the mud in some way or other, most likely with James and the rest of her family in tow.
She glanced around the sparsely furnished room which contained just the bed, a chair, a small table, and a wash stand. “Where are we?”
A horse was neighing outside. “At the nearest inn I could find after you took your fall, perhaps fifteen miles from the city.”
Bringing her palm to her forehead, Abigail took a moment to work out how long it would take for James to reach them. But doing so proved a challenge when she didn’t even know how long it had been since they’d left Foxborough House.
Lowering her hand, she saw that her knuckles were grazed. At least Toby hadn’t undressed her while she’d been unconscious. Beneath the blanket covering her, she still wore her wedding gown.
“You have to take me back right now,” she said. The quicker she returned, the better. Or at least this was what she chose to believe.
Tobias just smiled. “Don’t be silly, Abby. We both know your marrying Mr. Townsbridge would have been a dreadful mistake, and since you felt you had no choice in the matter, I realized there was nothing for it but to risk all in order to save you.”
Abigail swallowed. His eyes were filled with adoration, his smile conveying both warmth and happiness. And she knew in that moment that Tobias didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. Quite the opposite, actually. And this made her wary, because it made her wonder if perhaps James had been right about Tobias’s feelings for her all along.
“But you didn’t save me, Toby.” She sat up and gave him the most forthright gaze she could manage. “I wanted to marry Mr. Townsbridge today.”
“Of course you did,” he murmured with something akin to compassion filling his eyes. “Your family’s reputation was at stake. You had no choice but to do your best in order to minimize the scandal. Especially for Petra’s sake. But everything will be better now.”
Abigail sucked in a breath. “How does whisking me away make anything better?” she asked as she yanked her hand free from his grasp. Her eyes were starting to prick with the deep understanding that what he had done would ruin her every chance of salvaging an already fragile situation. Whatever prospects her sister might have had for a successful Season when she debuted were growing slimmer by the second.
“I’ll make you happy,” Tobias vowed. “I’ll—”
“James would have made me happy,” Abigail argued.
Tobias frowned and then he suddenly laughed. Not a humorous laugh but rather the kind that made Abigail want to shrink away into nothing. “I know you’ve just taken a hit to the head, Abby, but let’s be honest. That man—” he practically spat those two words “—made you miserable. Hell, I’ve never seen you more unhappy than when you were in his company and he did that. He took away your sparkle, the joie de vivre that made you so dazzling. And I will never forgive him for that.”
The anger in his voice seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. Abby stared. She’d never seen Tobias like this. He had always been charming and composed, but now...now he was like a thundercloud ready to send bolts of lightning in every direction.
“Toby,” she told him gently, hoping to calm him. “I know you were acting in what you thought was my best interest today, but you have to take me home. I want to go back to London. I want to marry James.”
“No.” He made a decisive sweeping motion with his hand.
Abigail gaped at him, at this person she’d known for most of her life and who’d now transformed into someone she didn’t recognize. “No?”
“After he compromised you at the Pratchard ball, you were horrified by the prospect of having to marry him. Then, when he came to call on you at your house and found me there, he was rude and condescending toward you, and when I happened upon the two of you in the park, it was clear that he was oppressing you and that you wished to be anywhere else but in his company. So forgive me for doing what most would consider completely unthinkable, but the very idea of Mr. James Townsbridge owning you makes me want to do bloody murder!”
Having risen during this tirade, Tobias raked a trembling hand through his hair and turned away. His back was rigid, his breathing ragged. Abigail watched him with mixed feelings as she thought back on James’s courtship and how it must have looked from Tobias’s perspective. As she did so, the lopsided world she’d awoken to seemed to right itself, for she finally understood his anger.
“It’s true that James and I got off to a pretty bad start,” Abigail said. She waited until she was sure Tobias was listening before she continued. “We didn’t like each other much when we first met, I’ll admit. Getting caught together in a compromising position was destined to make things worse. But the real problem was that we didn’t really understand each other well, and I, at least, was too afraid to be honest. We’ve since moved past that, though. We’ve talked and gotten to know each other.” She drew a deep breath. “When you met us in the park, I had a terrible headache. That is the only reason why I may have seemed unwell to you.”
Unsure of what else to say, she stopped talking. A pause followed and then Tobias turned toward her. His expression was grim, but the anger from earlier seemed to have vanished. “Are you saying that I have misinterpreted the situation?”
Abigail nodded. “Yes. I believe you have.” She watched his expression transform into one of dismay and then added, “There’s no doubt in my mind that you meant well, Toby, but in truth, you have just made everything so much worse.”
“I’m sorry.” Tobias’s gaze darted toward the window before returning to her. “I was only trying to help. I...” He closed his eyes on a sigh and dropped down onto the bed near her feet, causing her to bounce a little in response to his added weight. Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on his thighs and stared at the floor. “I want to make you happy and...I just wish...”
When he said nothing further, she pushed aside the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed so she could sit beside him. “When you offered for my hand last year, I believed you did it because you’ve never been close to your own family and marrying me would have made you part of mine. But there’s more to it than that. Isn’t there?”
It felt like an hour went by before he finally said, “I love you, Abby.” His voice was pained and although he’d done something terribly wrong, she felt her heart break a little on his behalf. “The thought of you with another man kills me. And all because of my worthless brother. Had it not been for him your father would have accepted my suit, and you would now be my wife.”
She flinched in response to his voice, now suddenly raised and awfully loud in the small space they were in. The fury that burned inside him was shocking, as was the thought of how different things might have been if his brother had not tarnished the Chesterfield name.
A shudder went through her,
for she knew she would have married Tobias had her father allowed it, and lost her chance with James.
“You’ve always been a wonderful friend, Toby.” When he raised his head and glared at her with accusing eyes wrought with heartache, she hastened to add, “I love you dearly, though not in the way you wish but more like a brother.”
With a grunt, he stood and went to the window. “A lot of good that does me.”
She understood his misery. When she hadn’t believed James would ever return her affection, she’d been dreadfully unhappy as well. Unrequited love was no simple thing. It could plague the mind and the soul and lead to discontentment of the worst possible kind.
“I’m sorry,” she said, unsure of how to help him. “You’re a wonderful man: kind, considerate and—”
“Stop.” He didn’t look at her, but she could tell by his tone she’d said the wrong thing. “None of that matters.”
“Of course it does,” she tried, hating the uncomfortable atmosphere clinging to the walls and the awkwardness wedged between them. “One day, you’ll find a woman who will fall in love with those qualities. A woman who will love you as you deserve to be loved.”
“Why the hell should I care about that when she won’t be you?” he shouted with such brutal force and suddenness that Abigail scrambled back onto the bed.
Staring at him, at his flattened mouth, clenched jaw, and flashing eyes, she felt a tremor of fear slide down her back. “I...I...” She shook her head and frantically searched for the right thing to say.
He moved toward her and she scooted back, until she was pressed up against the headboard. “Why don’t you love me as you should, Abby?” His sneer was low and full of menace.
Abigail’s heart pounded against her ribs. This wasn’t the man she knew. This wasn’t the amicable friend with whom she’d laughed on countless occasions or on whose shoulder she’d cried at the age of twelve when her dog had died. This person who stood before her, now leaning in, was someone else entirely – a stranger she did not recognize.
Lady Abigail's Perfect Match Page 6