by Fiona Miers
Thomas stared, wide-eyed, then said, “Let me guess, she didn’t think so.”
“Indeed. She accused me of believing she was immoral and that I had disrespected her.”
Which was not the case at all.
“In a manner of speaking, you most certainly did.”
James rolled his eyes, both relieved to finally be speaking of his troubles aloud and annoyed at how strange it all sounded. “I don’t understand how you can say that, Thomas. You know nothing of the situation, or the time we spent together.”
How did his younger brother instantly surmise the result? Did he have a more profound understanding of women?
Thomas grinned. “That may be true, but I did witness the tentative manner in which you catered to her every whim, and the smitten manner in which she gazed upon you. I have not seen such enamoured gazes since mother and father.”
“Nonsense. That is utterly ridiculous. Abigail doesn’t see me in that way.”
“As a man to whom she has lost her heart?”
“Precisely.” James said with a nod. “I am not the best suited man for her.”
“Do you honestly believe that, brother?” Thomas asked.
As if he needed to ask that.
“Of course. She deserves a man who cares for her, adores her, and can provide her with everything her heart desires. I am not that man. I am broken and damaged.”
“And have you asked her whether she thinks you are that man?”
“I don’t understand,” James said and narrowed his gaze at his brother, confused.
“Through that discussion with Abigail, did you ask whether she only wished to be your companion for the summer? Did you inquire as to her own wishes? What was in her heart?”
James pressed his lips into a thin line and pondered his brother’s questions. Unfortunately, the answer would not satisfy Thomas.
When he didn’t respond, Thomas said, “You are a fool, James.”
“And your grounds for calling me a fool are?” James asked, shocked his younger brother, who used to dote on him as a child, would say such a thing.
“That is the only way to accurately explain your behaviour towards that delightful young woman!”
Thomas’s voice echoed through the parlour and James was taken aback by his brother’s anger.
Thomas didn’t stop there, “That young woman was besotted with you the moment she laid eyes on you. How on earth could you not realise this? You cannot honestly think that she would only wish to be your mistress for the summer! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, James!”
“Do not preach to me about things you do not understand.” Because there was no way Thomas could understand how he felt.
“I know I did not experience the difficult six years you had in France, but I cannot even begin to fathom how bad it must have been for you to want to remove all humanity within you! Abigail is a woman. And regardless of whether she has been through a tremendous ordeal in the past, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to be loved in the future!”
James glared at his brother. “I cannot give her that, whether she desires it or not!”
“That is nonsense. For once in your life, James, choose love over fear.”
James opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His brother’s words rang with a little too much truth, and he didn’t have a single response.
Thomas raised his brows expectantly and cocked his head. “Am I wrong?”
“Of course, you are. I am not in love with Abigail. I cannot be.”
“You are a man, with feelings, albeit distorted ones. Simply because you have been through a dark time in your life, does not mean you are incapable of loving someone, brother. It also does not make you unworthy of her love.”
James began to pace the parlour, shaking his head. “No. This is absurd. I cannot be in love with Abigail. That is quite impossible.”
“And why is that impossible?”
James bit his lower lip and his breathing grew ragged. He recalled the pain and anger in her eyes in the carriage, and it had caused him more anguish than he had anticipated.
He closed his eyes and remembered the laughter they had shared, the glances exchanged between them, her sweet lips pressed against his.
He recalled the warmth of her body pressed against his as they sought shelter in the folly, and the distinct pounding in his chest as his fingers skimmed over her soft skin. The longing in his heart that he had shoved to the back of his mind. He had been so determined not to grow too attached to the beautiful young woman with the bright blue eyes and the radiant smile.
He had desperately tried to convince himself that his feelings for Abigail had not been real—or existed at all—but when confronted by his brother, he was no longer able to deny it.
“I am in love with her,” he said, reluctant to say it too loudly.
“Of course, you are, you idiot.”
James averted his gaze to his brother and his jaw clenched. “What do I do?”
“Go to her.”
James shook his head and began to pace once more. “She made it abundantly clear that I am not to come near her, or her mother’s townhouse ever again.”
“Brother, with all due respect, when has your mind been sound enough to make decisions on your heart’s behalf?” Thomas asked.
“I have always been of sound mind. You should know this.”
“I do, but do you not think that you should not allow your head to make these decisions? She is not a tactic or a battle plan. She is a living, breathing person. A woman whose feelings were hurt by the words your head told you to say”
James raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to do, Thomas.”
“Fight for her, James. But not in the way you are familiar with. Fight for her heart, with your heart. She deserves that much.”
James drew in a deep breath and nodded slowly. “It is an entirely different battle, perhaps even more dangerous.”
“And the most rewarding of all,” Thomas said.
“Indeed,” James said, and straightened his shoulders.
He drew in one final breath before he patted his brother on the shoulder and ran out of the parlour, faster than he had ever run before. This time it was not away from an enemy, it was towards the woman he loved.
Not even charging towards an enemy platoon had struck him with as much fear as he felt at that moment. But if he succeeded, if he won her heart back, it would be worth it.
Abigail would always be worth the fight, and as James ran to the stables where Fortego calmly stood, he scolded himself for taking so long to realise it.
Chapter Twenty
Abigail bent down and lightly touched the delicate white rose petal that grew in the small garden of the townhouse. The sound of the ocean in the distance as well as the sweet smell of the flowers brought a calm feeling within Abigail’s heart.
For the past three days, she had convinced herself that things happened for a reason and clearly, she was not meant to be loved by James. He had proven that he was not the right man for her, and she had come to terms with it.
She had kept herself busy in the garden, being surrounded flowers and trying to rid her thoughts of James Melton. It was not always possible, but for the most part, she kept herself composed. It was only at night the silence caused her thoughts and self-doubt to grow louder.
It had been a difficult three days for Abigail, and despite having Julia to confide in, she longed to speak to James. To see his eyes linger for a moment longer than they should. She longed to see the corners of his mouth curl up seductively as he smiled, and inhale the scent of him. She ached for the warmth of his strong arms embracing her, and the taste of his lips. More than anything, she missed his presence and the way he made her feel.
Abigail knew that he may not have meant the things he had said to her, but the things he made her feel had been very real. She hoped that she had been able to make him feel the same things.
She sighed miserably a
nd her gaze shifted towards the wall surrounding the small garden of the townhouse. There was a crack in the wall, leaving a rather insignificant mark. It did not seem very damaging, and it did not make the structure any less stable, but it was still there. She lowered her gaze as she noticed an orange butterfly pass by, hovering over her hand and the roses in front of her.
She cocked her head and a smile formed on her lips as the insect fluttered past her hand, landing on the rose. She watched carefully as the small creature spent a few moments on the flower before flying off when the back door opened.
Abigail’s head turned in the direction of the door and stared at Dotty.
“Miss Abigail, pardon the interruption.”
Abigail sighed and raked her fingers through her hair, which tumbled down her shoulders. She hadn’t even bothered pinning it up today, as she was not intent on leaving the townhouse. Why go to any effort?
In fact, she had absolutely no intentions of leaving her home for a while. She could not bear the thought of seeing James or any of his brothers while in town with her mother.
“It is quite all right, Dotty. Has Mother returned from the physician?”
“Not yet, but I am certain she will shortly,” Dotty answered. “There is a visitor for you.”
“A visitor? This late in the afternoon?” Abigail asked.
“Indeed. The gentleman is waiting in the drawing room.”
“For me?” she asked, her tone going high-pitched with surprise.
“Indeed,” Dotty said once more, a smile on her lips that told her exactly who was waiting for her.
Abigail rose to her feet and drew in a deep breath as she entered the townhouse through the back door. Her shoes lightly padded across the wooden floorboards as she walked toward the drawing room. She tugged at her hair, attempting to neaten it as much as possible, and came to a halt midway to her destination.
She knew the polite thing to do was to see him and listen to why he had come. She couldn’t send him away before hearing his reasons for visiting her this late in the afternoon. Was he here to apologise? Or was he still adamant that being his companion for the summer was a better offer than she believed?
She drew in another breath, attempting to calm herself. She did not wish to enter the drawing room with false hope of an apology from James. He was as stubborn as he was handsome, and she would certainly not survive another heartbreak at his hands.
As she entered the room, James stood in front of the painting her father had brought from his travels in Italy. It was a painting of the Sicilian Sea, the azure waters lapping across the golden sand, splashes of white foam brilliantly contrasted by the gold and bright blue paint.
The painting was magnificent in Abigail’s eyes, and was without a shadow of a doubt her favourite artwork in the townhouse. It was even more magnificent with James standing in front of it, his dark hair providing yet another contrast to the bright and colourful imagery.
Abigail studied him for a short while without him noticing her, then the sound of her heel tapping on the floor broke the precious silence.
James turned around and his eyes focused intently on her. “Abigail.”
His voice was merely a whisper, but a welcome sound to Abigail, regardless of the ache inside her chest. “James.”
“I sincerely apologise for arriving at your home at this hour without prior notice, but if I had given word of my arrival, you would have sent me away.”
“Perhaps,” she answered. “But it would be deserved in my opinion. Do you not agree?”
“I am a very proud man, Abigail—”
“You and all the men in the world.”
“I did not come here to provoke you.”
“What are you doing here?” Abigail asked and crossed her arms over her chest.
He took a breath, puffing up his chest, before saying, “I was wrong. I misinterpreted your independence for aloofness. You’ve been hurt and had your heart broken by a man whom you loved and who supposedly loved you. He betrayed you and cast your reputation into the mud, with no regard for you. I am no better. I betrayed you and I hurt you. It was unintentional, but I hurt you, nonetheless.”
She cocked her head at James. That was the most amount of words she’d ever heard him say in one go.
She desperately wished she was able to believe him, but she did not wish to once again become lost in feelings that were one-sided.
James continued, “You may think I am rambling nonsense as a result of feeling guilty, but this is not the case. For the past three days I have been deliberating with myself so much even my brothers decided they’d had enough of me.”
“What made you come here, then?” she asked. If not for guilt, then what?
“I wanted to apologise to you, Abigail. I did not treat you in the manner in which you deserve to be treated. To assume that you did not desire love due to the hurt the earl caused you was foolish of me. Idiotic, even. You are a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul, and I did not treat you with the necessary care.”
His words dredged up the hurt he’d caused, and she glared at him. “I cannot believe you made the assumption that I did not care for love. It was reckless of you to think that of me.”
“I know that now, Abigail, and I am truly sorry that I hurt you. It was not my intention.”
She rolled her eyes. “Regardless of whether it was your intention or not, it happened,” Abigail said and turned away, stepping towards the window. “I have lived through heartache and humiliation once before and I cannot do it again. I deserve better. Perhaps in vowing off love and embracing being a spinster has led me astray, or made you think that finding love and happiness was not on my agenda at all. But you made incorrect assumption that you cannot take back, no matter what you say.”
He took a step towards her, his lips twisted in regret. “I realise this, and I am willing to spend all of eternity attempting to rectify this.”
Abigail frowned as she turned towards James. Then a gasp escaped her throat as she stared blankly at him, kneeling before her, his hand placed firmly on his heart.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a strained whisper.
“I wish to make another proposition to you, Abigail.”
“What kind of proposition?” she asked, her heart beginning to pound harder and faster.
“A more permanent one. I wish to court you properly. Publicly. You are not merely a prize or a trophy, but a wonderful woman who has made me feel alive for the first time in years, if not my entire my life. I wish to treat you as you deserve to be treated, and to court you with a goal of an engagement after an appropriate period of time.”
Abigail’s eyes filled with tears of both shock and surprise. She had never in her wildest dreams anticipated that James would say these things to her, and through it all, he did not once admit his feelings to her.
“Abigail, please accept my apology and my proposition. Nothing would give me more joy than your acceptance of both.”
Abigail shook her head and a tear ran down her cheek. As much as she wished to accept both his apology and his proposition, she could not. Not until he admitted his feelings for her. She had to be certain she knew what she meant to him. “I am sorry, James. I cannot accept.”
“What? Why?” James rose to his feet and stepped towards her.
“I cannot accept your offer because I am not certain whether it is what I want. I had been blinded by infatuation for you, only to be left heartbroken and empty.”
“If you give me a chance, I vow that I would show you how sorry I am. Words cannot adequately express how much you mean to me, Abigail. I would go to the ends of the earth to ensure—”
“There is no need for that, James,” Abigail said, raising her hand up to silence him. “I think it is best if you leave now.”
His words were not enough. Not after how he’d already treated her.
“Abigail, please. Do not send me away.”
“It is not because I want to, but because I must. I mu
st think of my heart, and not of yours.”
“Please, Abigail,” James said, practically pleading with her. “I will do anything.”
“Then leave me be.”
Abigail remained composed, staring blankly at James. His shoulders slumped and he dragged his feet across the drawing room, stopping beside Abigail.
“As you wish,” he said in a hushed tone before he stepped past her.
As the door slammed behind him, tears streamed down her face and she sank down onto the floor.
Chapter Twenty-one
James had no desire to be seen by anyone, which was precisely why he steered Fortego in the direction of the secluded private bay he favoured more than the busy beach of Weymouth Bay. It was a gloriously sunny day, not a cloud in sight, but none of it pleased him.
He had tried to decide what he would do with himself now that Abigail was no longer in his life. There was nothing more for him here in Weymouth. Despite his brothers insisting he stay for the remainder of the summer, James was adamant he would leave Weymouth at his soonest convenience.
He didn’t wish to be a burden to his brothers or fill the manor with his moribund state. Of course, Charles insisted he not leave. Thomas was the one who encouraged him to perhaps reconsider another few days at the estate, to which James had agreed. He wasn’t sure what a difference it would make, but regardless, he decided to humour his youngest brother.
Now he found himself at the secluded beach where he had been when the summer began, but without any direction whatsoever. He had hoped Weymouth would inspire him to change the route in which his life was headed. Now he found himself in the same place, if not further away from where he had started.
It was truly his own fault, he had come to realise. He could no longer blame it on anyone else. He was in control of his life. He made the decisions, and it was because of those decisions that he was once again faced with a bone-deep loneliness.
James still felt bitterly disappointed in the way things had turned out. Especially in the fact that Abigail had not accepted his apology or his courtship proposition. Though he most certainly didn’t blame her.