"You said earlier that your uncle uses things you love against you. What did you mean?" His voice was soft and understanding, which only made Abigail more disappointed.
She was silent for a moment. What should she tell him? She trusted him, but was it prudent to tell him her deepest feelings and heart aches, if they were to part ways in a few days’ time?
He pulled her hand tighter, tucking it into the crook of his arm.
Abigail felt the warmth spread up her arm and decided to enjoy the closeness she felt in the moment. It may have to last her a lifetime. "If he wants me to do something I do not wish to, he will take something I love to try to convince me."
Alex's brow furrowed. "Do you mean he takes your favorite book if you do not do what he wants?"
Abigail shook her head. "I wish it was so trivial." She placed her hand atop her other, leaning in closer to him. "He secured my brother a position on a merchant ship because I refused to marry the man he wished."
Lord Grayson’s jaw clenched. "How old is your brother?"
Moisture gathered in the bottoms of her lids. She swallowed and forced them back. "He is not yet eight."
He turned his head and studied her face. "It is not such a terrible life.”
She appreciated his attempt to soften the blow, but she had heard what could befall a person onboard a ship. “Unless his ship should meet with pirates, you mean?” Abigail searched his face, her lips trembling.
Lord Grayson sighed. “He will learn many skills. Perhaps someday he will even be the Captain of his own ship. It is a respectable position. Especially for one with limited funds."
"Our family was not in financial difficulties.” Abigail grunted. “At least, we were not while my father was alive. But since my uncle took control, I have watched the coffers dwindle. But even so, Bernard did not need to go to sea. He could have gone to Harrow with Nathan." She sniffed. "As I said. My uncle knows what I cherish and uses it against me."
He shook his head. "I am sorry, Abigail."
She tilted her head to the side, staring at him intently. Did he know he made her insides feel like porridge? Could he cast her off so easily when he said her name with such feeling? "I like it when you call me by my Christian name."
Abigail felt her cheeks heat. Had she really been so untoward as to admit such things out loud? She ventured a look in his direction. "But using it implies an intimacy we do not share. What if someone should hear?" She breathed in courage. “The choice to cast me off would no longer be there. You would have to marry me.” She could not look up into his face.
He cleared his throat. “But no one is around to hear. You are safe.” His voice was quiet, and she thought she detected a hint of remorse. “Perhaps you could even call me Alex. Just, for now. For today?”
Abigail felt as if she was one of the rocks below them. Waves crashing against her, wearing her away a little at a time. How could he do this to her, pretend there was a future for them? Why was she letting him?
"Why was I not on your list?" Lord Grayson’s voice blurted out.
"List? What list?"
His face darkened with obvious embarrassment. “Your list of eligible gentlemen. It dropped from your book. I picked it up, intending to return it to you, but—." He kicked at a rock in the grass.
Abigail smiled at the petulant tone of his voice.
"The list was Clara's idea. I only wrote the names down. It was not my list." Abigail looked out over the water for a moment. "At least not really. My list is in my head. It is very short." She glanced up at him. "Clara wouldn’t add your name, initially, after I told who you were the first time.”
Lord Grayson nodded slowly. “No, I guess she would not.”
"When did you find it?" Abigail tried to remember when she noticed the list was gone.
"Just before the fencing competition. It fell out when your book dropped to the floor."
Abigail's chest tightened. That was when he had begun to act strangely toward her. Had he thought her not inclined toward him and it had made him unhappy?
Her heart thumped at the thought, only to be quelled when she realized it did not matter. He had told her he loved her, yet he was still willing to cast her aside.
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
“Are you to return to Berkshire after the party or will you be continuing your assignment for the crown?" It felt odd to discuss his secret so openly.
Lord Grayson shrugged. "I am done with my service to Prince George. Now that Patrick is gone, I have a title and responsibilities. It’s complicated.” He rubbed at his chin as he looked out over the water. “But as long as Dennison and my former crew are looking for me, I don’t dare return home. I can’t risk endangering my mother and sister.” His muscle flexed under her hand. “I do miss them, though. I have not seen them in years. I do not believe my sister should even know me. She was only eight years old when I left. And I had been at Cambridge before that.”
Abigail sympathized with him. Not a day went by she did not wish to speak with her mother again. This man beside her made her desire it even more. Her mother would surely understand what Abigail was feeling and be able to advise her—tell her everything would be for the best. Clara did not instill the same certainty Abigail’s mother would.
"What of you?" Lord Grayson asked. "Are you to return home or is it on to another house party?"
Abigail shook her head. "This was my last house party. I am destined for Cornwall, even if it will only be for a fortnight."
He frowned. "A fortnight? Where shall you go then?"
Abigail licked her lips. "I shall be getting engaged upon my return. I should guess I will be married as soon as the bans can be posted."
Lord Grayson stared at her, blinking rapidly. "You have an arrangement?"
She twisted her head back and forth. Not a shake, but also not a nod. "Not officially. It was a compromise I made with my uncle. He allowed me to come to Brighton, but if I am unable to make a suitable match here, I am to marry the man of his choosing."
"And who is this man?" Lord Grayson's voice was clipped? Why should it anger him if she married another, when he was not willing to offer for her, himself?
"Sir Charles Middleton."
His brow shot up. "Middleton is a blackguard. And you have consented?"
Abigail frowned. "Surely, he cannot be so bad as all that."
"I have been away for six years and even I know the man is a scoundrel. Besides, he is nearly twice your age. Why should you agree to such a match?" His voice rose; even the sound of the waves could not drown out his anger.
Abigail glared at him. "I have little say in the matter. I have been to house party after house party, even a season in London. And for what? Nothing came of it." Must he force her to tell him how desperate she had become?
He nodded his head, his brow creased in thought. "Ah, now it makes sense. What is your uncle’s relationship with Sir Charles?"
Abigail stared at him. What made sense? The hair on the back of her neck stood and gooseflesh broke out on her arms. "I believe they are friends. Although, when I looked in the ledgers, I noticed they have done business together." She pulled away slightly, so she could better look at his face. "What makes sense?"
"Your footman, Harry, has been making friends below stairs."
What did such a comment mean? It did not seem uncommon for the servants to make friends with the other servants. Why should it draw the attention of an earl?
"My valet confided in me that Harry approached him and offered a friendly warning to me about an association with you. It seems he has given such warnings to any gentleman showing an interest in you."
The air whooshed from Abigail's lungs. Harry was not only sent to spy on her but to spread falsehoods below stairs. It was no wonder she had never received an offer. All this time she had thought it her to which the men were indifferent, when in truth it was whatever lie her uncle had made sure was spread among the servants.
Lord Grayson hur
ried on. "I never believed it. Neither did Ainsley."
Abigail had no words. What did one say when they learned of such things?
"My guess would be your uncle owes Sir Charles money or some such. There is no other logical reason for him to go to such lengths to ensure the marriage."
It was worse than she had imagined. Her uncle was using her as payment for whatever trouble he was in.
“Abi, you can’t marry Sir Charles.”
Abigail closed her eyes. Clara and her brothers were the only ones to call her Abi. It had started when they were children. But hearing the pet name on Lord Grayson’s lips brought her up short. She stared up into his golden eyes.
“As I said before, what choice do I have? We are days from the end of this party, and I have no understanding. How dare you forbid me to marry another when you are unwilling to offer for me yourself.” Abigail yelled into the wind. She pulled her hand from his arm, balling her fists at her side, wanted to pound them on in chest in frustration and hurt. But all at once the anger subsided and despair took its place. “I find I am fagged to death. Please, I wish to return to the house now.”
Chapter 23
Parker tied off the cravat and stepped back to admire his work. He held out the sea blue waistcoat and Alex slipped his arms in. While he buttoned it up, Parker fetched the charcoal tailcoat.
Alex stared out the window as Parker finished his work. The wind blew lightly through the trees as clouds passed over the sun, darkening everything outside until the clouds had passed by.
Alex rolled his shoulders several times, trying to loosen his clothes and get them to hang on his frame correctly.
“Are you in need of anything else, my lord?”
Alex shook his head. “No, thank you, Parker.”
Parker gathered the night clothes draped over the chair by the wardrobe and disappeared into the dressing room.
Alex fidgeted with his coat sleeve, his nerves jumpy and tight. He grabbed his walking stick on his way to the door, shutting it firmly behind him.
Since walking with Abigail along the cliffs yesterday, Alex had not been able to calm his mind. The knowledge she was to marry Sir Charles put him on edge.
Before he had left six years ago, he knew the man to be a rake and a fortune hunter. Rumors said he had married several women, only to abandon them once their dowries were used up. Alex doubted he had improved in consequence over the years.
But Sir Charles was not the only reason Alex was on edge. Abigail did not seem to understand why he was distancing himself from her. How could she not see the danger that being with him would pose for her?
He shook his head, muttering as he walked down the stairs. Leaving her to Sir Charles, who would surely rob her of any brightness she now held may not be any safer than if Dennison did discover her. He had wrestled with the choice all night.
Wouldn’t it be better for her to be with him than Sir Charles? There was a chance Alex could protect her from Dennison, but if she married Sir Charles, there was nothing Alex could do for her. Was his reasoning just him trying to get what he really wanted? What he loved?
He had been sure of his course before the picnic. But now he was uncertain.
Alex snapped his fingers. Sir Richard. That was who Alex needed to seek out. Sir Richard would be able to provide Alex with some much-needed advice.
He stepped into the entryway. Morton stood close by, speaking quietly with a footman. The man’s chin was dropped to his chest, a disheartened expression on his face. The butler excused himself and approached Alex.
“Good day, my lord. How can I help you?”
“Pardon me, Morton. Have you seen Sir Richard this morning?”
Morton nodded his head as he bowed. “Indeed, my lord. He and Lady Cartwright escorted Miss Marleigh and Miss Martindale into town. They left nearly an hour ago.”
Alex grunted. “Thank you.”
Going into town was risky, knowing Andrews may be lurking about. But Alex was not even certain Andrews had discovered Alex’s identity. He had not registered even the slightest acknowledgement when he saw Alex in town before.
Alex needed to do something. He needed to get out of this house, come to some decision, instead of hiding out like a coward.
“Shall I fetch your hat, my lord?” Morton broke into Alex’s thoughts.
“Yes. I believe I will venture into town, also. If Sir Richard should return before I find him, will you inform him I am looking for him?”
“Indeed, sir.” Morton disappeared through an archway, returning moments later with Alex’s hat and gloves. He handed them over and bowed.
Alex put the hat on his head and then wiggled his fingers into his gloves. “Thank you, Morton.”
Walking out the front door, Alex felt lighter than he had in days. Knowing he was closer to a decision made even his limp less pronounced.
Alex dismounted at the stables by the Cock and Crow. A stable boy ran out and took the reins. “I’ll give ‘er a good rub down, sir.”
“Please see she gets some oats, as well.” Alex placed several coins in the boy’s hand. “There are more when I come back if I can see she was well cared for.”
The boy’s eyes lighted and he nodded. “I will see to it, sir.”
Alex grinned and walked out of the stable yard. Now he needed to find Sir Richard as quickly as possible.
The streets were crowded, people spending as much time out of doors before the next rain storm made them prisoners again.
Two ladies looked in a window several shops up the street. Alex recognized Miss Martindale, as she was the profile closest to him. He was certain the other must be Abigail.
He slowed his gait. Stopping, he pretended to look at the goods on display in the window. However, he kept his gaze on Miss Martindale and Miss Marleigh.
When they moved on to the next shop, Alex moved also. Unable to see Miss Marleigh clearly, he decided to cross the street, hoping to get in front of them so he could see Abigail’s face.
Once ahead of them, he crossed back over.
Her laughter drifted past him on the breeze. It was lovely, just as she was.
The ladies continued on, stopping in front of a confectioner’s shop. Miss Marleigh shook her head, but Miss Martindale pulled her inside.
Alex had come to an alleyway. Rather than cross to the other side, he leaned against the corner of the building, the confectioner’s shop in sight. She wouldn’t be able to leave the shop without his notice, but he would be able to duck into the alley before she could spot him.
The breeze picked up, lifting the hair curling around his ear. The sun peeked back out from behind the clouds, warming Alex’s back and neck. He leaned his head against the building.
A crate fell and a cat screeched. Alex straightened, jerking around to look behind. He sighed when a cat walked past him, the alley beyond still empty. The infurnal cat must have knocked over the crate.
Alex turned back to the shop fronts. A bell tinkled and he took a step back in the same moment that a hand closed around his mouth, before dragging him into the ally.
In the darkness between the buildings, a rough burlap bag came down over his head. “Don’t ya be calling out now, Cap’n.” Alex recognized Henderson’s voice whisper in his ear.
Alex twisted and turned, kicking out with his wounded leg. Arms came around from the back, one tightening around him while the other pushed the tip of a blade into his side. “Stop struggling, Captain. I would hate for this knife to be plunged into your side while you struggle.” Andrews lowered his voice.
Andrew whispered loudly to Henderson. “We need to get him away from the main street, before someone sees him. Pick up his legs.”
Henderson followed Andrews orders and the noises from the street became more distant until they completely disappeared.
"Put him in here for now. We can move him to the ship once it gets dark." Andrews tightened his arms around Alex. He felt the sides of his body rub against a door frame.
A cool, dampness touched Alex’s skin as his feet dropped to the ground and he was roughly pushed into a chair.
"What is this place?" Henderson asked.
"An old chum of mine stores his goods here. He is not due back with a shipment for a fortnight. He would not mind us using it temporarily." Andrews voice faded slightly. "Find a rope. There should be one somewhere around here."
"Here it is."
Alex frowned. The third man had a voice he did not recognize.
A coil of rope landed on his lap. He was pushed hard to the back of the chair, his hands pulled behind him and tied together at the wrists.
“Pull it tight. We don’t want it coming loose. This will earn me the Destiny.” The greed in Andrews’s voice evident.
“He’ll not be escaping, Cap’n Andrews.” Henderson pulled the rope tight, rubbing and pinching Alex’s thighs. He bit his cheek to stop from crying out.
Henderson finished his task by tying Alex’s feet at the ankles.
"I don't think he is going anywhere. Carper, stay here and watch over him. Henderson, come with me."
Chapter 24
Abigail peered into the alley. The shadows deepening as the afternoon sun lowered in the sky. The space between the buildings was empty, for which Abigail was grateful.
A door midway down, opened and two men walked out. She pulled her head back, slowly peering back down the alley. They looked similar in dress to how she had found Captain Stringham in her carriage. These were the men who had taken him outside the confectioners shop. She was certain of it.
They looked in both directions and Abigail pulled her head back again. She held still, listening for footsteps or any other movement.
“Keep watch at the door. No one is to go in or out but keep yourself hidden. We don’t want to draw unwanted attention.”
Abigail leaned slightly forward, only using half an eye to peer at them. One of the men moved to a pile of crates and crouched down, becoming a part of the shadows. The other man looked one last time toward Abigail, then moved quickly in the opposite direction.
Miss Marleigh's Pirate Lord (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 1) Page 17