One Night To Be Sinful
Page 25
Abigail's heart pounded in her ears. The words were nice, and they nearly broke her heart, because they were not the ones she so needed to hear. Not only did she give her heart to a man who was in her home only because her brother had asked him, but one who did not love her in turn. "I think I should like to be left alone now, Calvin."
"All right, Abigail." He released her, took a step away. "Remember, I may have lied to you about my station and reasons for coming into your life, but I never broke my promise."
She blinked at him. "Promise?"
"I never left you behind." Calvin turned away. "You are leaving me."
Her heart skipped a beat when, minutes later, she heard the approaching footsteps. She lifted her forehead from the tree trunk believing he had come back to tell her he had forgotten to tell her one thing. That he loved her.
When Abigail peered over her shoulder at the man who approached, her hope died fast and silent.
"Calvin asked me to bring this out to you." Thomas held out the crutch.
Abigail took a breath, slipped her arm into the wooden cup, and rested her hand upon the grip.
"You know it is not entirely his fault, Abby. We are both responsible," Thomas insisted. "You should be angry at me as well."
Abigail glared at him as she began to march back toward the house. "I am angry at you."
"Oh." Thomas paused before following. "Good, then."
She hoped that was the end of it, but her brother ran up behind her. "You know, I did it because I was worried about you, and you wouldn't tell me what was going on."
"I know, I know." Abigail waved her free hand, wishing she could maneuver her crutch and blasted braced leg faster. "I'm damnably stubborn."
"Then, when I found out about what Calvin had done ... well, I was quite furious."
Abigail stopped, turned to scowl at her brother. "You know, Thomas, normal brothers do not bring up such personal things with their sisters. It is considered rude."
"Terribly sorry." He was breathless when they reached the steps going up into the ballroom. "I just wanted you to know I felt as betrayed as you, even more so.
Abigail rolled her eyes. "It appears you recovered well. You did bring him to the party, did you not?"
"Yes, well, that was after I realized why he"Thomas cleared his throat-"did what he did." He ran his fingers through his hair, removed a handkerchief to blot first Abigail's tear-stained cheeks and then his damp brow. "I like to think I understand now. In fact, after what Garrett told me, I cannot say I would not have done the same."
Abigail's brows snapped together. She was unable to imagine what Calvin had told her brother about her. "What, pray tell, did he say?"
Pale green eyes locked with those of brown. "He told me he loves you."
Chapter 33
The raging storm beyond the windows of Emily Paxton's stone mansion brought with it nightmares. For the woman who tossed and turned upon a bed in one of the guest chambers, her dreams were not haunted with toppling carriages or the dying cries of horses. Instead, she stood in a place of cold shadows and watched as the only man she ever loved walked out of her life forever.
On a brutal crash of thunder, she woke.
Abigail paused only to put on her brace and slippers. The ends of her robe billowed out about her so she appeared a specter throwing open the door of the house to the torrential winds beyond. She squinted against the rain and kept moving, not realizing the carriage was in the drive until she almost ran into it.
"Let me help you inside, m'lady." The driver's voice was muffled behind the heavy coat she wore, her face indistinguishable beneath her floppy brimmed hat.
"Hildegard?" Abigail asked even as the other woman lifted her into the cab as if she weighed nothing.
"Aye." The driver hunched her large shoulders against a particularly fierce gust of wind. "Miss Paxton said you might have an emergency this evening. Told me to keep an eye out." Hildegard slammed the carriage door closed, and the vehicle creaked as she took her place behind the reins.
As the wheels began to move, Abigail leaned forward to peer out the conveyance's only window, set centered in the door. Even so far away, she met her friend's gaze from where she stood backed by candlelight at her bedchamber window.
Emily lifted a hand to wave.
He thought the pounding was coming from his skull. It was very possible he was feeling the aftereffects of the gin he had consumed before collapsing into bed. Calvin lifted a hand to the back of his head, fully expecting to feel the vibrations from his throbbing brain.
The pounding came again.
"Bloody hell," he growled into his pillowcase and threw himself onto his back. He was almost fully clothed, had only doffed his cravat before dropping onto the mattress. His throat was dry, his skin hot, and a sense of overwhelming loss ate at his insides.
The knock came again from his bedchamber door.
He could easily imagine the cook with her weathered old face parted in a grin as she dragged him from his painless sleep.
"Damn it, Mrs. Poole!" he shouted at the ceiling, eyes still closed. "Can you not leave a man alone?"
"My lord?" The voice on the other side of the door was a little disoriented. "It is Nigel." He clarified. "Your servant."
Calvin's eyelids parted and he found himself staring at the ceiling of his bedchamber in London, not North Rutherford. His jaw clenched as he remembered why he had returned to Town, why he drank himself into oblivion.
"I know ..." Nigel's voice was shaky. "I know you said you wanted no interruptions tonight, but you have a visitor."
Calvin glared out the nearby window and found the time indistinguishable in the turbulent gray sky. He knew he had not returned home until midnight; it had to have taken him two hours to finish the bottle of gin. God only knew what hour of the morning it was.
"Sir, I'm very sorry," the servant continued through the door, and his employer could almost sense him wringing his hands together, "but I thought it was important, what with it being so early. The lady, she is soaked through and only in her nightgown."
Calvin pushed himself into a sitting position, threw his booted feet over the bed.
"She's. . ." Nigel's voice lowered. "Sir, she is crippled."
"She is not a cripple, Nigel." The younger man released a surprised squeak when Calvin threw open the bedchamber door. "Do not ever refer to her as such again."
Nigel bowed his head in apology, his face going red. "I beg your pardon, my lord."
"Where is she?" Calvin scowled down at himself as he strode to the stairs; he reached for the buttons of his wrinkled shirt.
"The entryway." Nigel tripped down the stairs after his employer. "She refused to go any farther. Afraid she'd ruin the rugs, wet as she was." The young man released a muted grunt when he slammed into the broad back of his employer, immobile on the last step.
Abigail stood just inside the front door, barely illuminated by the taper left burning on a table nearby. She brushed ineffectually at the wet tendrils of hair that hung to her cheeks. Her teeth chattered until she looked up and met Calvin's gaze.
"Go get a blanket, Nigel," he said without looking back. "Hot tea."
"Yes, my lord." Nigel contorted his body to ease around the larger man, offering Abigail a slight bow before he passed her.
She had one hand fisted, pressed against her heart; the other held her crutch in a white-knuckled grip. "I'm sorry I woke you, Calvin. I never even stopped to think...."
He parted the space between them in two great strides, shrugged out of the coat she had given him as a gift and swung it around her shoulders. The dark material engulfed her small frame as she clutched its lapels together.
"Come into the parlor." Calvin found his voice unsteady as he guided her down the hall. He positioned her before the fire, pushing a chair toward her, but she refused to sit.
Abigail licked her already-damp lips, her lovely gaze shifting about the room nervously. "You have a nice home, Calvin."
He lifted a single brow, folding his arms across his chest as he propped a shoulder against the hearth. "You came here in the middle of the night to inspect my housing?"
"No." Abigail shook her head, her gaze dropping to his booted toes. "It's just"-she took a deep breath-"Timothy cannot recall where you put all the tools."
Both Calvin's brows lowered.
Abigail cast him a brief glance. "And Margot needs help with the upstairs rugs because Mrs. Poole has a bad back and I cannot carry them."
"The rugs?"
"Yes, sir. And Timothy can't stand to drive the carriage anymore and Harry has gone missing again.
"Again?
"Again." Abigail sighed.
"You came here in the rain, in your nightgown, to ask where the tools are and obtain guidance on the best way to beat the rugs?"
"Yes." Abigail smiled, and then frowned just as quickly. "No." Her lashes slowly lifted and her bay eyes met his. "We need you to come back."
Calvin felt his heart shudder against his ribs. "Abby ..."
A tear slipped down her pale cheek, then another. Her head lifted as he approached. "I miss you, Calvin. I want you to come home."
Fine china clattered, and both Abigail and Calvin turned to look at Nigel, weighed down with several blankets and a tea tray. He gaped at them in turn.
"Excuse us, Nigel."
"Of course, my lord." The young man disappeared as quickly as he had come.
As if they hadn't been interrupted, Calvin lifted his hand and rested his open palm against Abigail's chilled cheek. She pressed into his touch, just as she had the night she had first given herself to him. He put an arm around her, brushed his lips across her waiting mouth. He could feel her heart pound in time with his own.
"Abigail," he said against her lips, "I love you." He wrapped both arms around her when she pressed her face into his chest. Against the top of her head, he breathed, "I very much want to come home."
Her crutch hit the floor with a sharp crack as Abigail brought both her hands to his back and lifted herself for his kiss.
Epilogue
Abigail peered out the parlor window, her eyes going round as she watched a familiar phaeton begin up the drive. She spun back around to the clergyman.
"Can we not hurry this up a bit?" She interrupted his prattle about the joys of love. When the old man made a face, she smiled. "Please?"
"You'll have to forgive my Abby, Pastor Fine." Calvin put his hand to her waist and hugged her to his side. "She, like all females, is eager to be an obedient wife." He smiled, ignoring her scowl.
"Ah." The clergyman peered between the couple. "Well, let's skip to the vows, shall we?"
Calvin nodded.
"Oh," Abigail gasped, pushing away from him. "Oh!" She maneuvered herself rather gracefully around the two men and toward the window from which she had been gazing worriedly.
Calvin offered the clergyman a chuckle, eyeing Abby from the corner of his eye. "Are you all right, love?"
She bit her bottom lip as she concentrated on the shifting of the curtain down where it touched the floor. The plump bulge pressing against the damask made its way to the end of the fabric before Abigail threw back the material. "Got you!" She scooped Harry easily into her free hand and turned back to the men who were staring at her.
"Are we finished?"
"Bloody hell." The pastor slapped his Bible closed, his neck turning red as he glared at Calvin, then Abigail, and then the rabbit that stared at him from within her arms. "You are man and wife."
"Very good." Abigail beamed.
There was a light knock from the front door.
"You know," Pastor Fine said to Calvin when the younger man reached to shake his hand, "most women prefer a long ceremony, complete with fancy dress and flowers."
"I believe I knew from the first, Abby was not like most women." He saw her tap a toe impatiently as she watched him from the parlor doorway. "I also learned that when she takes on a certain stubborn tilt to her chin, she will not be refused. Such was the case when she concocted the marriage arrangements."
"Why should there be a need for such a hasty wedding?" The old man's gaze rested on Abigail's stomach, not out of proportion beneath her plumcolored gown. "She's not in trouble, is she?"
"No, sir, nothing as exciting as that." Calvin lifted a brow as she stopped tapping to walk toward him. "She is just a woman who cannot bear to lie."
"I forgot, Calvin," Abigail said when she stopped before him.
"Yes?"
She pressed her lips to his, gently, only stopping to take a nip at his bottom lip as she drew away. "I love you," she said. Her forehead rested momentarily against his shoulder, and he gently squeezed her nape.
"Lord Garrett." Margot appeared in the doorway, smiling knowingly between Calvin and Abigail. "Lady Garrett-the Redmans have arrived."
Table of Contents
Chapter I
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter io
Chapter ii
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 3 r
Chapter 32
Chapter 33