Where was he at this moment? Did he miss her? Was he regretting his impulsive decision to spirit her off to Gretna Green? How could he not?
Abby shouldn’t have been swayed by his charms or agreed to his plan. She should have pushed him away and endured the consequences of her decisions alone. It would have been the right thing to do, the selfless thing.
It also would have ruined her.
The sound of pounding hooves caught her attention, and she looked up to see a horse and rider careening down the beach at full speed, stirring up the sand and leaving a cloud of dust behind. Even though she couldn’t see the details of the man’s face, she recognized the way he rode low over his horse’s head with reckless elegance.
Abby had seen Brigston riding often over the past several weeks—either from the window in her bedchamber or while she was out walking the grounds. She was usually careful to stay out of his way, hiding behind a curtain, tree, or hedge so they rarely encountered one another, but there was nothing to hide behind now. She couldn’t exactly dive into the waves or make a run for the hedges in the distance. How silly that would look.
Abby backed away from the water, dug her toes into the sand to bury them, and tucked her hands behind her back, keeping her stockings and boots out of sight. With any luck, he’d merely nod or wave and continue on, but he slowed his horse and stopped not far from where she stood. He wore no hat, and his wavy, sandy hair fell across his forehead in a reckless fashion. He didn’t look much like a marquess at the moment. Rather, his casual attire and shorter, solid frame reminded her of the men who’d worked in her father’s stables.
He studied her with his stormy gray eyes, probably taking in her damp skirts and unkempt hair. At least she’d left her bonnet intact. He couldn’t find fault with her there.
“You are out and about early this morning, Abby,” he remarked.
“I usually am,” she said. “Once the sun awakens, so do I.”
She pressed her feet a little further into the sand, hoping he wouldn’t notice her lack of stockings. He had always been kind to her, but she had never felt comfortable in his presence, and being here alone with him, especially in her current state of undress, unnerved her more than usual.
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he smiled wryly. “Are you hiding your stockings and boots behind your back?”
The question startled her, and it took a moment to gather her wits. She squared her shoulders, keeping her hands hidden. “I don’t know what you mean, sir. I would never remove my boots or stockings out of doors.”
“Only indoors then? While at dinner, perhaps?”
“I was referring to my bedchamber, as you well know.”
He was teasing her in a way that Jasper might have done. Her husband had only been gone a fortnight, but there were times, such as now, that she missed him—perhaps not in the way a wife should miss her husband, but Abby felt more at ease with him.
Brigston guided his horse a few steps to the right, trying to peek behind her, but Abby countered by moving to the left, keeping her hands hidden.
“’Tis a shame, that,” he mused. “There is nothing as invigorating as dipping one’s feet in the ocean. You ought to try it sometime.”
“I think your mother would be scandalized to hear you suggest such a thing,” said Abby, wishing he’d move along.
“No more scandalized than she’d be to see you now, attempting to hide your footwear behind your back.”
Abby gave up trying to counter his movements and scowled instead. “How unkind you are to call my bluff, sir.” She brought her boots forward, holding them up for his inspection. Thankfully her stockings were stuffed inside and out of sight. “Are you happy to have uncovered another one of my flaws? Pray do not tell your mother. She thinks me hoyden enough already.”
He chuckled. “Never fear, sister. You have found a kindred spirit in me. I, too, enjoy wading in the water.”
He swung down from his horse and collected the reins in his gloved hands, his close proximity making her shy away a step. It was a silly reaction. She had no reason to fear him, but he still made her anxious. Perhaps, in time, that feeling would subside, as it had with Jasper, but for now, she would greatly prefer that Brigston keep his distance.
Why had she asked that he call her Abby, and why did she call him Brigston? It felt too friendly by half.
She cleared her throat. “I was just contemplating what it would feel like to swim. Does that shock you?” She hoped it would.
“Not at all,” he said. “Jasper and I had the same notion when we were lads and even begged our father to teach us to swim. He obliged as he always did, and the three of us spent many hours in the sea. At one point, Jasper and I even tried to construct a boat from logs before we learned we had no talent for lashing.”
Abby smiled a little. She liked picturing the brothers as playmates. Jasper had mentioned he and Brigston weren’t close, but they must have been at one time. What had changed and why? “Your mother found no fault with such behavior?”
“Boys are allowed a little more freedom than girls, but, as you learned with your father, what Mother did not know she couldn’t scold us for later.” His conspiratorial grin made Abby’s smile widen. He really was kind.
“When Jasper returns, perhaps I will ask him to teach me to swim,” she said.
“I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige you at some point, but it would probably be best to wait until after…” His voice trailed off, but his glance at her midsection finished his thought for him.
“The child is born?” Abby asked. There was a time when she had been painfully shy, but after making the acquaintance of Prudence Gifford, now Lady Knave, Abby had learned that if she wanted to connect with others, she couldn’t hide her true self. It was a lesson that had served her well over the years, though there were some connections she could have done without.
A dark cloud settled around her at the thought, but Abby shooed it away.
“I never did ask. How long before…” Once again, Brigston’s words drifted off, and it took a moment for Abby to deduce his meaning.
“My lying in?”
His obvious discomfort made Abby smile again. She found it amusing that such a confident man would have a difficult time speaking about her condition, however delicate it was. “The doctor said early February. He also said I should begin to feel movement soon, but I have felt nothing beyond an ever-increasing lump.”
Brigston’s eyes widened slightly, and his cheeks became ruddy. Her candor had definitely set him to blushing now, and she was glad to see it. Perhaps now he’d try to avoid her as she did him.
After a moment of awkwardness, he said, “Not a bad month to be born, I suppose.”
“Why is that?” Abby had always thought February a dreary month—four weeks a person had to muddle through before catching glimpses of spring.
“I was born in February.”
“Oh.” Abby scrambled for something to say. “Well, if it’s a boy, perhaps we’ll christen him after you.” Merciful heavens, what had possessed her to say such a thing? Even if her child was a boy, Jasper wouldn’t want to name him after his brother, a man he considered to be much too serious.
“If it’s a girl?” Brigston asked.
“I will call her Caroline after my mother.” Assuming Jasper agreed, of course. They hadn’t really discussed the child, other than the fact that it existed and would be arriving after the first of the year.
“It’s a beautiful name,” Brigston said.
“She was a beautiful woman, or so I’ve been told. She died giving birth to me.” Abby wondered if her candor had made him uncomfortable again, but he appeared more contemplative than anything.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” he finally said.
Abby nodded and swallowed. Every time she thought ahead to the upcoming months, fears and concerns pervaded. Would she be like her mother and die giving birth to this child? Would her child die? How much pain would she have to endure before all
was over and done? If they both survived the ordeal, would she be able to love her child as her father had never loved her?
Brigston must have seen the apprehension in her expression because he gently touched her arm. “Everything will be fine, Abby. Dr. Glendale is the best in the county. He will see to it that no harm will come to you or your child.”
While Abby appreciated his words, she stiffened at his touch. She wasn’t sure why, exactly. It was nothing more than a kind gesture from a concerned brother, but these days everything felt out of kilter. Goodness, what was wrong with her?
There was a time when Jasper’s touch had caused her insides to flutter, back when they had first been introduced. Handsome and charming, his smile had weakened her knees and warmed her belly. He’d swept into her life, showering her with attention and praise and posies and making her feel like the most desired woman in existence. She had been so taken with him. What had changed and when had it changed?
It hadn’t been instantaneous. Her attraction had simply paled. While she admired his cheerful nature and sense of adventure, Abby began to crave something deeper—the kind of connection that went beyond frivolity and playfulness. She’d wanted to marry a man to whom she could bare her soul, one who could offer her advice and comfort and make her feel as though she wasn’t alone any longer.
Now, however, she didn’t want to be married at all.
Perhaps in time, that would change. She and Jasper would change. It was a hope she clung to like nothing else.
“Are you well?” Brigston’s voice cut through her troubled thoughts, startling Abby.
She stiffened. “I am in perfect health, sir, all things considering.”
“What I mean is, are you happy here? You seem to keep to yourself much of the time, and with Jasper gone, I… well, I want to be sure that you have everything you need. It can’t be easy to be left alone in a new, hopefully not too strange, place with people you hardly know.”
His words had a calming effect on her nerves. He seemed in earnest, as though he understood a little of her predicament and wanted to do what he could to help her. It was something a friend might have said, or at least a potential friend. What would it be like to find such a person at Oakley?
“It’s good of you to ask, my lord, but you forget that I was raised by an elusive father and an indisposed great-aunt. Long ago, I learned to find happiness in solitude.” It was true enough, although the few months she’d spent with Prudence, Knave, and Sophia made her realize that she liked having friends around her more. She’d also liked the balls and parties, morning calls, and excursions to the theater and museums. But she didn’t mind being on her own either. There were different kinds of happiness, she supposed.
“I only hope you can come to feel at home here,” Brigston said. “Jasper has probably already told you as much, but please feel free to roam the house, curl up with a book by the fire, ask our coachman to drive you to town, or ring for a servant if you are hungry or in need of anything else. Oakley is your home now, and I’d like you to consider it as such.”
Abby appreciated his thoughtfulness more than she could say. While Jasper had seen to her needs, he’d never told her she was free to explore the house or inquire about a ride in the stables. Abby had only felt at liberty to walk the grounds. But now… oh, how she’d dearly love to borrow a horse and go for a ride down this same stretch of beach. She’d also love to peruse the shops in town and find a modiste who could make her some new gowns to accommodate her expanding figure.
“Thank you, Brigston. I will certainly make myself more at home.”
“I hope you do.” He smiled briefly before turning back to his horse and adjusting the reins around the animal’s neck. Before he mounted, he looked over his shoulder at her. “Would you like me to walk with you back to the house? You have come a long way.”
For a moment, she was tempted to say yes, but her damp and sandy feet reminded her that she was in no condition to make the trek back to the house, at least without her boots, and she wasn’t about to don her footwear in his presence.
“I’d like to stay a while longer if you don’t mind.”
He nodded before swinging up on his horse. “I shall see you at dinner then. Enjoy the serenity. That boulder there is a good place to rinse and dry your feet before putting your stockings and boots back on.”
She chuckled. “I shall put it to good use then.”
He galloped away, but rather than feel relief that he’d finally gone, loneliness encased her. She found herself yearning for her husband’s companionship once more, then frowned when she realized it was all she yearned for. How strange it was not to understand one’s own emotions. Jasper was a good man. A kind man. A handsome man. Why could she not feel something for him?
Abby pressed her lips together, thinking back to those dark days and the decision she’d made out of fear. As she’d stood at the anvil in that cluttered, dingy blacksmith’s shop and spoke words she couldn’t remember any longer, she’d promised herself that she would strive to care for Lord Jasper Campbell with every ounce of love she possessed. But now she struggled to do even that for him.
What sort of heartless wretch was she?
The moment tears threatened to spill, Abby straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, reaffirming her resolve. She would not give up. She would not. Jasper still held a piece of her heart, even if it was a tiny piece. How could he not after what he’d done for her? She owed him her life and whatever tender feelings she could give. She would be a loyal wife to him, she would focus on the good in him, and she would grow to love him with all her heart. She was Lady Jasper Campbell now, and from this point forward, she would do whatever it took to become that person.
ABBY HAD ONLY just entered the house when Lady Brigston’s resonant voice called to her from the drawing room. After a brief hesitation, Abby forced her feet to carry her to the threshold, where she dipped into a quick curtsy.
“Good afternoon, my lady.”
“I had cook set aside a tray for you since you missed luncheon. I assumed you would be hungry.”
Only seconds before Abby had been ravenous, but as soon as she’d heard Lady Brigston’s voice, her stomach became a ball of nerves. She wasn’t sure she could eat any longer, especially not here, with her mother-in-law’s critical eye observing her every move. Would she ever feel at ease around this woman?
Lady Brigston was the epitome of well-bred elegance and made Abby keenly aware of her own deficiencies. The woman spoke in cultured tones, always said the right thing, did the right thing, and had the right upbringing. Abby doubted she’d ever slouched even for a moment, and she was certain Lady Brigston had never removed her stockings to wade through the cool waters of the Solent.
How different she was from her two sons. How different her sons were from each other.
“Thank you, my lady,” Abby said. “Would you mind if I took the tray up to my room?”
“Actually, I was hoping to speak with you.”
Dread mixed with nerves didn’t help her appetite, but Abby took a seat and began nibbling at a slice of bread. She would have to get used to her mother-in-law eventually. Now was as good a time as any to start.
“Abby, we have a tradition in our parish the vicar’s wife began years ago. For every child that is born, the dear woman makes a christening gown as a gift for the mother. Last week, however, she fell ill and cannot make the promised gowns for a mother of twins, who are due to arrive any day. The vicar visited only this morning to ask if I would make them in her stead, and I thought—or rather hoped—that you’d be willing to help me with the task. I could use an extra pair of hands, and… Are you handy with the needle, by chance?”
Lady Brigston raised her brow skeptically, no doubt thinking her daughter-in-law was undoubtedly more handy with a whip than a needle. It rankled a bit. Abby was not wholly unrefined.
She swallowed the mushy bread in her mouth and tried to smile. “I’m sure my talents won’t surpass your o
wn, but I can sew a neat stitch when necessary. It will be my pleasure to help.”
“Wonderful.” Lady Brigston looked both pleased and relieved. “I have everything cut out and ready to go. You can sew the pieces of one together while I work on the embroidery of the other.” In other words, Lady Brigston would trust Abby to sew basic stitches, but the intricacies of embroidery should be left to the more adept of the two.
Abby examined the neatly folded piles of white muslin on the sofa between them, thinking she hadn’t spent all of her time frolicking with the cows. Great-aunt Josephine had been an exacting teacher once upon the time, especially when it came to needlepoint. Abby had learned at the hand of a master, and when she’d discovered two trunks in the attic, filled with old gowns of her mother’s, Abby had put that skill to use, remaking them into afternoon dresses, morning gowns, riding habits, and even a ball gown or two. How she’d loved wearing fabric that had once been worn by her mother. It made her feel as though she hadn’t lost everything.
She pulled a needle from the cushion, making sure the tip was sharp and the eye not too large, before threading it. Then she picked up a pile of muslin, sorted through the pieces, and began sewing two seams together. As expected, Lady Brigston cast covert glances her way, but in this one thing, Abby was confident she wouldn’t disappoint.
“Have you had any word from Jasper?” her mother-in-law asked.
“I received a note yesterday. He said the hunt will begin soon, but did not say when he would return.”
She nodded. “I’m certain he will return soon. My son knows his duty.”
Abby bit her lip. Apparently, her husband would return out of duty and not because he missed or desired the company of his wife. In the past, when she’d entertained dreams of marriage, this was nothing like what she’d imagined.
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