His eyes held sorrow as he looked at her. “I could never blame you, Abigail,” he said.
“I know,” she said, her eyes filling with tears, but then she felt the guilt for being happy he did not place blame on her. “For only a coward would blame another.” She gave a derisive sniff. “You do not need to blame me, for I already have condemned myself. However, this is not about me, it is about you.” The rain continued to fall in buckets upon them, but she cared not, for even if she had to stand there for a year, she would convince him of what was on her heart.
“What about me?”
“You are a man, a duke, no less, who has a chance to walk again. Take it!”
“But I may not!” he shouted. “Do you not see? The thought terrifies me. If, through all the hard work, I cannot walk again, what will become of me then?”
She grasped his hands once more, this time tighter to be sure he did not pull away again. “It does not matter if you walk or not,” she said, putting her face directly in front of his. “No, do not argue. What matters is that you make the attempt. The pain you felt that night will pale in comparison to the defeat of not trying and knowing that you did nothing when you could have.”
“I am afraid,” he cried. “Truly afraid.”
“I am, as well,” she said with a smile. “I cannot force you to do that which you do not want to do. However, I will say this, if it is the last thing I ever speak to you.”
“Please, tell me.”
She kissed his hand and offered him another smile. “I believe in you. I always have. It is why I turn to you when I am in trouble, for you are the person on whom I can count. However, I cannot rescue you unless you want me to do so. Together, with our strength, we can beat this. You will walk again; I know this in my heart. I believe in you, Patrick believes in you, but the one person who matters above all others is you.” The wind began to howl, and the ocean waves crashed toward them. “What do you want to do, Richard? Whatever you decide, I will agree.” She held her breath as she waited for him to respond.
He lowered his head, and her heart sank as he pulled his hand from hers. So, this was it. He no longer could be helped. It was truly over.
Just as despair began to creep over her, Richard raised a hand showing two fingers raised side by side. Then he lowered them and tapped them on his thigh.
Abigail let out a cry and threw her arms around him, happiness welling up inside her. He was willing to give it a try, and she vowed to be at his side every step of the way.
Chapter Twenty-One
The following morning, Abigail awoke to a clear sky and a bright sun that matched her determination and passion. It had been a while since she had felt thus, but she was pleased, for she had embraced the duty and mission of making sure Richard walked again. No matter how frustrating it might be, or how frustrating Richard behaved, she would not stop until he either walked or accepted what fate had dealt him. However, she was almost certain the former would be the case. As she had told him on the beach, if he did not try, he would never know if he could have overcome this grave challenge. Either way, she would show him the brave man he truly was.
She had prepared a light breakfast for Patrick and was surprised, and delighted, when Richard also accepted food. The gauntness in his face seemed less ominous with the smile he now wore, and it pleased her no end. Their new life together might not be what either expected, but it was new, and she would see they remained positive through it all.
Having sent Patrick into town for supplies, Abigail entered the sitting room, ready to begin the exercises Mrs. Donovan had explained needed to be done daily in order to maintain the muscles in his legs.
“Today is the first day of many,” Abigail announced as she walked to the end of the couch where Richard sat propped up with pillows and his legs covered with a blanket. We will rebuild your muscles, for you will need them in order to walk again.”
He smiled up at her. “That we will,” he said. “Together.”
She returned the smile and took hold of both of his feet. “I will rotate your feet first and then move your legs back and forth, bending them at the knees. According to the nurse, this will force the muscles to contract and release, much like when you walk. Granted, it will not be as effective as truly walking, but apparently, it helps keep your muscles from stiffening, which would only make walking that much more difficult.”
“Whatever you wish, Nurse Abigail,” he said with a genuine laugh that spoke to her heart. How good it was to hear him laugh once again.
She worked first one leg and then the other, soon breaking into a light sweat. Her back screamed at the motion of moving back and forth, but she did not allow the pain to stop her.
“You know,” Richard said, “I had a dream last night.”
“Oh?” She brought his foot down and picked up the other, making circles with his toes as she worked the joints.
“I was walking, and you were by my side. We were both so happy.” He let out a sigh. “I believe that dream shall come to pass.” To hear him say this made her heart flutter with gladness. If he did not believe, any belief she had would do no good.
“As do I,” she said. Then she stood. “I will now push your leg to your chest, but not too hard. I do not want to hurt your back.”
He laughed. “I doubt it could be hurt worse than it is already.”
Although his words did not sound cynical, she still gave him a terse look. “None of that,” she said, chastising. “We will have no negativity coming from the patients. Do you understand?”
He gave her a firm nod. “Yes, Your Grace,” he said solemnly, though he ruined it with an impudent grin. “Do you remember when you bandaged my arm?” he asked. “I believe we were both thirteen at the time.”
Her cheeks heated. “I remember,” she replied, keeping her attention on the work before her. “You would not heed my advice, and your determination to go into the brambles was a painful lesson for you.” They had gone for a walk on the castle grounds while their fathers conducted business inside. Though she had pleaded with him, Richard entered the brambles in search of some sort of object that had glittered on the ground beneath the thorny branches. He had thought it had to be an object of great value, but, in fact, it had been a simple stone with bits of schist. He had been tricked as so many others had been by the prospect of finding some sort of wondrous ore. However, all the expedition had earned him was a torn shirt and quite a few scratches on his arms. Abigail had sneaked into the house, grabbed a wet cloth and several strips of fabric kept for such occasions and returned to tend his wounds.
Suddenly, something occurred to her. It had been that day, when she cleaned and wrapped his arms, that he had looked into his eyes and found that she loved him. It had almost caused her to faint, for she was giddy and full of joy. When he had returned her smile, she thought no smile could have been more handsome. How strange that she had not remembered that feeling. What had made her move from such love to simple caring?
She moved to his other leg. The work was not difficult, but it was tiring; however, she would do it for as long as it took. He would walk again if she had anything to say about it!
“I knew then that I loved you,” Richard said as if echoing her thoughts.
She never knew they had shared such an intimate moment. How strange that they should have the same feelings, but because of their timidity, neither told the other.
“I’m sorry. I should not have said anything.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “No. I was just thinking that it was that day when I realized that I felt the same way.”
“And here you are again, helping me,” he said. “Tending to wounds caused by my own stupidity.” He gave a begrudging laugh.
“Not by stupidity,” she said as she set his leg back onto the couch. “Just hurt. I believe we both now realize that, after all we have been through, it is far easier to speak what is on our hearts than we first thought. We simply have to be willing to be honest with one another
; otherwise, what we have will not work.”
“Indeed,” Richard replied with a thoughtful expression. “Honesty. I like that.”
***
The following week, Abigail sent for a handyman to build a wooden pier that ran from the veranda to the beach. In order to keep the fact that Richard was bound to his wheelchair, she had told the man that she wanted to be able to visit the beach but did not like getting sand in her slippers. Given the strange requests some of the ton made, the man took it in stride. The best thing was that she was able to keep secret Richard’s condition.
With a team of men, they had the pier completed in no time—Abigail paid them well for the long hours they spent doing so—and soon, she and Richard were spending more time at the beach, taking in the fresh salt air and enjoying the late summer weather.
On one particular day, Patrick brought out a pair of battledores and a shuttlecock that Abigail had purchased in town the day before.
“Come and play, Sir!” Patrick called out to Richard from the middle of the beach. “I can hit it to you from all the way over here, and you can hit it back to me.”
Richard laughed. “I do not believe that wise,” he replied. He tapped the arms of the wheelchair. “I’m afraid I am at a disadvantage.”
“Oh, I promise I’ll make it go right to you,” the boy said. “I practiced all night!” He tossed the shuttlecock in the air and proceeded to hit it with the battledore only to send it flying askance. He sighed. “I guess I need more practice.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Abigail said, sending a glare in Richard’s direction, though she tried to soften it somewhat. “I will play for a while, and once you have perfected your aim, perhaps the Duke will see you worthy of a challenge.”
“Oh-ho!” Richard shouted playfully. “Are you saying that I am not challenging enough for a child?”
Abigail placed her hands on her hips. “I am saying just that,” she said with a jut of her chin. “It is not the fact you are in that chair that hinders your ability, I suspect, but rather the fact that you simply do not play the game well in the first place.”
Richard narrowed his eyes at her. “I played quite often when I was younger, and I will have you know that I was quite good.”
She handed him the battledore. “Prove it,” she said with a single raised eyebrow.
He grabbed the racket from her. “Fine. I will show you just how well I can play.” He turned to Patrick. “Come now, boy. We will prove to Miss Abigail that we men are much better players of shuttlecock than any woman on Earth!”
Patrick squealed in delight, and soon the two were batting the shuttlecock back and forth, Patrick running after every one that missed its mark and yet getting better with every turn.
“Well, you do play much better than I expected,” Abigail said from the bench she had asked one of the workmen to build for her under the shade of a tree. “I must admit that I am surprised.”
Richard rolled his chair beside her. His forehead was covered with sweat and he was panting, but he was happier than she had seen him in days. “And now it is your turn to show us your abilities,” he said as he held out the battledore to her.
She pulled out a fan she had brought with her and waved it in front of her face. “I find it much too hot for such games,” she said regally. “I believe I will wait for another day.”
Richard snorted. “I suppose you are too afraid to play yourself because you worry you will not be as good?” His smile had a mischievous turn to it.
“Oh, please come play, Miss Abigail!” Patrick called from the beach. “It is, oh, so much fun!”
With a sigh of feigned annoyance, she stood and swiped the racket from Richard’s hand. “Oh, very well. I assume I will hear no end to it if I do not play.”
“Those are the most truthful words I have heard you say yet, Miss Abigail,” Richard said with a grin.
Abigail laughed and joined Patrick on the sand. She played for a while, making sure she missed more often than not during that first game. However, as Patrick bettered his aim when playing with Richard, she found that she had to masquerade her abilities less and less. If Richard had been able to move beyond the boundaries of the pier, he would have been the superior player by far.
Despite that truth, I will not be the one to admit such things, she thought with a giggle.
“And what makes you laugh?” Richard asked as he rolled up beside her.
“Oh, nothing,” she replied. “I was just thinking how entertaining children can be.”
He smiled and took her hand in his. “One day, we will have our own children, and they will give us years and years of wondrous entertainment.”
Whereas before the subject of children would have caused her nervousness, now it left a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. More often than not she found herself wondering what their children would look like. Would they favor Richard with his dark hair and blue eyes, or would they take after her and have her fiery red hair and green eyes? Or would they possess a bit of both of them? She found herself hoping that one day they would find out, and that surprised her. From where had those thoughts come?
She pushed them aside for the time being. Right now, she had time only to focus on Richard and getting him to walk. Everything else was of much less importance.
By the time they went inside, everyone was hot and tired as they dragged themselves into the house.
“That was the mostest fun I have ever had in my life!” Patrick said as he plopped himself into a chair. He looked at Richard and smiled. “Thank you for playing with me, Sir. I’ll never forget it.”
The affectionate look Richard gave the boy melted Abigail’s heart. Patrick had done his part in bringing Richard out of his gloom, and she could never have thanked him enough. Purchasing a toy for him could never repay what the youngster brought out in a man who struggled on a daily basis to remain positive, for it was that positivity that would drive Richard to not giving up on his attempts to walk.
***
The days soon became weeks, and though Abigail refused to speak the thoughts aloud, she began to worry that perhaps the doctor had been correct—that Richard would never walk again. However, that was the thought of one who had lost all hope, and Abigail refused to fall into the trap of the hopeless.
“You look as though you are sad,” Richard said as he sat beside her on the couch, a blanket over his legs. “Are you well?”
Abigail glanced over at him and smiled. She tried very hard to keep a happy countenance, but when deep in thought she would forget. She had to be careful; there was no need to worry the man she so desperately wanted to help.
“Oh, I’m quite well,” she replied. “I was just thinking about how quickly the time has passed. I wonder if your mother worries we will never return.”
Richard laughed. “I have thought the same. Tomorrow, I will write both our mothers to let them know of our return.”
“Return?” she asked curiously. “I thought you wanted to delay it for a while longer.”
He sighed. “I did, but that was the thoughts of a coward. I believe another month or so here will be fine, but then we should return to our home…” The last few words trailed off as he lowered his head. “May I ask you something? And I need you to be truly honest with your response.”
“Very well. Please, ask. I will be as honest as I can be.”
“Do you want to return with me?” Her eyes misted when he reached over and took her hand in his. “I know there is a love you have for me, but I want you to know that your love, whatever love you are willing to give me, that is what I need. I will wait until the end of days for you to love me as I love you.”
Abigail nodded, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She did not deserve this man; he deserved a woman who could love him completely, with all her heart and soul. Yet, she could not imagine her life without him. How fortunate she was to have the love of such a man.
“You are too good to me,” she whispered. “And yes, I will retu
rn with you and remain by your side forever.”
He gave her hand a squeeze and when he went to pull his hand away, she tightened her grip. His hand provided comfort and strength, and the thought of not having that brought a sense of dread. She may not deserve his love, but she needed him more than anything on Earth.
“What are we to do about Patrick?” Richard asked after a few moments of silence. “He cannot remain here forever with us; though I must admit, I will miss his company.”
Abigail could not have agreed more. The boy had been a Godsend, and his incessant energy and laughter kept her spirits high when they might have fallen below the deep ocean waves. “I have wondered the same,” she replied. “I fear for his safety if he is left alone, and sleeping in the stables cannot be healthy for anyone but especially not a young boy. All children need someone who loves them.” She thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, just yesterday he mentioned a grandfather who resides in Brampton, in the North. I believe it is located in Cumberland. Apparently, his parents came to Brighton in hopes of better lives.”
Richard nodded. “Yes, I know the village. It is at least a four days journey north of here. Does the boy want to live with his grandfather?”
“He does not,” Abigail said. “He says he does not remember him.” She paused. “I do wonder if the man should know that his grandson is safe. He might be searching for him, and I can only imagine his worry at not knowing his whereabouts.”
“Would you care to find out?”
Abigail scrunched her brow. “What do you mean?”
“Take the boy and travel to Brampton. Speak to his grandfather. I’m sure he will be overjoyed by the return of his grandson.”
Abigail nodded and looked down at her hands. Her heart broke even as she thought of the young scamp who had touched her heart so dearly no longer in their lives.
“You are sad,” Richard said lightly.
“I admit that I am,” she replied. “I have grown fond of the boy, and I had hoped that he could join us.” She looked up at him. “As a member of our family.”
Rescued by the Duke: Delicate Hearts Book 2 Page 15