Edmund, too shocked to say anything, stood unmoving and staring at his mother.
“But…what does that mean?” she asked, confused.
“It means nothing,” Sir Richard boasted.
“On the contrary,” Duncan said, smiling, “I have several documents in my possession that demonstrate otherwise.”
Edmund let his chin fall to his chest. Damn. He’d meant to keep all his other dealings confidential. He did wonder how Duncan had retained the information and who had sent them.
“The first letter I have is from Miss Holly Reinhold. Edmund, would you like to explain what you did for this woman and her son?”
“That information was not meant to be disclosed,” Edmund said, more embarrassed than angry.
“Whether it was or it wasn’t, it is now official evidence as to what your father proposed.”
“What did you do?” Dowager Hemsley asked.
Edmund hesitated before unveiling his charitable action. “I befriended a little boy who loved to read. His mother is single, and so I decided to start a college fund for him.”
“Oh, that’s lovely, Edmund,” his mother said, her dark gray eyes tearing.
“A college fund? Do not tell me that whoever acquires the Rushwood name hinges on a child’s savings account?”
“Very well,” Duncan said. “I also have a letter from Lilly Ridge, an assisted living facility in Oregon. They confirmed that Lord Rushwood donated an undisclosed amount of money toward creating a better environment for their Alzheimer’s and dementia patients there.”
Edmund closed his eyes and sank down in the closest chair. He’d done it all with Abby in mind. She was the person who inspired him to become a better person. “No more,” he said, his voice authoritative despite the underlying shaking. He opened his eyes and turned toward his mother.
“Your father may not have been a sentimental man,” she said quietly, “but he loved you enough to make sure you learned the greatest lesson in life, to give of yourself, something he was always afraid to do.”
Edmund swallowed hard, clearing the lump from his throat. For the first time, he found he missed his father, although Edmund was sure if the man were standing in the room, he’d quip about the lack of oxygen from everyone breathing too hard and then dismiss himself immediately.
“How can you allow such enormous responsibilities to fall to a man who wanted to marry a woman so poor and irrelevant…?”
Edmund started toward Sir Richard, fist raised, but his mother had already beat him to it. “Oh, shut up, Richard!” the woman shouted with her eyebrows pinched together in utter frustration. Edmund’s mouth dropped open at his mother’s fierce display of emotion.
“Timmons, show Sir Richard to Lord Rushwood’s door,” his mother said.
“It would be my pleasure, my lady.” Timmons bowed and did as he was instructed. Edmund stood, the relief of sustaining Danwick and his title not as fulfilling as he once thought it would be. Not long after, he heard the soft muffle of conversation in the foyer as Timmons escorted Edmund’s one o’clock into the library. A few ticks of the mantel clock, Timmons stood at the doorway, his face unreadable.
“My lord, I believe—”
Edmund lifted his hand to quiet his most loyal servant. “I would appreciate some undisturbed time.”
Timmons opened his mouth, but quickly snapped it shut, his gaze darting from Edmund’s mother to Dowager Hemsley and back to him. “As you wish,” the man said before turning into the hall.
Edmund rotated to Duncan and nodded. “Am I to assume I am a wealthy bastard once again with everything at my disposal?”
Duncan was quick to smile. “Yes, my lord.”
He thought for a moment. “In that case, arrange a roundtrip to Portland, Oregon for me, first class. I’ll be staying two days.”
“Edmund,” his mother said, using a voice that reminded him of when he was little and was about to jump off a six-foot wall, imitating a cloaked ninja.
“If there’s no more hope, I want to hear her say it. Either way, I don’t intend on selling the shop or ending my position at Cambridge or moving back here anytime soon.”
His mother stood and sauntered over to him, laying a quick kiss on his cheek. “If she loves you, Edmund, then it won’t matter where you live.”
“Then you approve of her?” Edmund wanted so much for his mother to accept Abby, even if there was a chance they would never meet.
“For someone to uncover the man you have become, there should never be any doubt of my acceptance of her. She will be welcomed and adored, I assure you.”
He kissed his mother’s round cheek and turned toward Duncan, presenting his hand. “Thank you.”
“Forgive my forthrightness, my lord, but I could not imagine Danwick staying with anyone more deserving.”
Edmund nodded and forced a smile. “Now, if you will excuse me,” he said, turning toward the library. Although he much preferred to tutor in his glass study at Lost in Time, he appreciated the richness of the two-story, cherry-stained oak book shelves at Danwick Manor.
On one side of the room, his father had built a spiral staircase that allowed a person to access the books without a wobbly ladder. It also made for an easy hiding place underneath. As he scanned from one side to the other, he guessed Timmons had sent the woman to another room in the house, until he heard the floorboard creak underneath the stairs.
“Hello,” Edmund called out, stepping farther inside. “Who’s there?” His gaze dropped to a familiar blue-spine book laying open in one of the high-backed chairs to his right. He reached down, his hand spreading across the blurred, crinkled page.
The muskiness of the century-old hardback mingled with a light lavender fragrance. His heart smacked against his ribcage, pulling the air right out of his lungs. Did he dare hope she’d unwrapped herself from her safe world and flown across an ocean to see him? No, the disappointment of not finding her there would be too much. Still, he sauntered cautiously forward. The dark corners hid her well, but not enough for a man desperate to find her.
“You came to see me, Abby?” he said loud enough for her to hear. He swore he heard her say, “Shoot.”
Despite the heaviness in the room, he chuckled, and then waited through a series of pounding heartbeats until her quiet voice projected toward him. “I suppose you’re going to make me come out there, aren’t you?”
He exhaled a ragged breath, his emotions frayed. “It would make the conversation much easier.”
Like an apparition, she appeared from the darkened alcove, beautiful and pure in the open light, more so now that he’d been deprived of her for so long. He was afraid if he reached out and touched her, she might disappear like all the other times before.
“Hello, Edmund.”
He started to move forward and then stopped. She stood there, blinking at him. Since she’d yet to jump into his arms, he wondered if he’d come to the wrong conclusion about why she’d come to see him. Punishment?
“What are you doing here?” He kept his voice steady, detached.
Her mouth opened and closed, seemingly surprised by his question. When he took another cautious step forward, she came alive, lifting her hands to hold him back. “Why did you buy the building for me, Edmund? You knew that’s not what I wanted.”
He drew back as if struck. “Remind me again what you said you wanted, Abby.” He couldn’t keep the harshness out of his voice. Only, she didn’t flinch and she didn’t bite.
“You…you answer my question first.” Her chin rose, although her hands remained trembling at her side.
Well, this wasn’t quite the reunion he had envisioned, although he should have expected it. “Because I could.”
“I didn’t fly over four thousand miles to get that answer. Why?”
“Because Will told me you’d closed the shop. He also said you’re waitressing, an occupation you have yet to perfect.”
Her hands flashed to her hips. “First of all, I do very well in ti
ps, sometimes bringing in more in one night than I did an entire day at the shop, so I must have perfected something. And, second, Will had no right to tell you anything.”
Edmund strode toward her, close enough so she had to crane her neck to look at him. “I beg to differ. As long as I’m still breathing, Abby, I will not stand by and let you or your arse become a drunken man’s punch line.”
Her lovely eyes blazed at him. “Well you might want to get used to holding your breath, Edmund Rushwood, because I’m not quitting and I’m not taking your money.” She shoved a letter-sized manila envelope at his chest. “And me and my arse…ass are no longer any of your business.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
They stared fiercely at each other, their chests rising and falling in unison.
“Yes, Abby, you’ve made that quite clear.” It hurt like hell to see her so animatedly angry with him. Unable to tolerate their reunion any longer, he took the envelope she offered and turned away. He’d lost her, and he had only himself to blame.
The words of Dowager Hemsley came back to haunt him then: “I know you have some compassion buried under all that resentment, Edmund. I just hope one day you don’t dismiss the person who might help you uncover it.”
In the tall window, half open to allow a gentle breeze inside, he saw Abby’s animated reflection walk away from him, again. His heart constricted. Why had she come all this way?
“It’s not like you to give up so easily, Abby.” She stopped. “Is it because you wanted the gilded castle all along?”
He turned as she flew back around, her face streaked with tears, her cheeks blotched and full of fury.
“How dare you ask me that?” she said, her passionate blue eyes blinking with insult and injury. “Do you think I care about eating salmon on a whim and drinking expensive champagne every night of the week? I don’t!” She paused to swipe the tears that had gathered under her quivering chin. “Despite what you might think of me, I fell in love with you over a couple of peanut butter crackers and a shot of cold medicine.”
His heart jolted from her admission. He threw the manila envelope on the table beside Pride and Prejudice and stepped to close the distance between.
“Stop. Stop right there. I’m not done.” Abby hesitated for a moment before bringing in an immersing breath. “My world shattered that day at the studio and every day since. I didn’t miss your title or your expensive house in the mountains. I missed you, every arrogant, teasing, tender part of you.” She hiccupped and blinked as the tears fell down her face like raindrops.
He could take it no more. He’d heard what he wanted to hear, heard her confessional like a hundred singing angels over him.
“Abby.”
He reached out and hauled her against him. When his mouth captured hers, her palms pushed hard into his chest. Unwilling to let her go, he lifted his hands and wrapped them around her small wrists, keeping her there. Desperate to taste her, he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping inside to stroke against hers until he felt her relax. The glorious sounds of her sighing pleasure shot liquid need through his veins. He broke away, only to express how he felt. “I love you.”
Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing to say. She scoffed and fisted her hands into his gray jacket. “You love me? You know, you have the worst timing in the world.”
He supposed he did, realizing he’d never uttered those words to her, or any woman, until now. “Abby?”
She bent her head, her lavender scented hair tickling his nose. “No, I’ve come here to do what I had to do, Edmund.” She tried to smile and then tried to project a brave demeanor by smoothing out his now wrinkled lapel. “I’ll be all right. I’ll just have to somehow force my heart to forget all about you…with someone who doesn’t say arse.”
“You know, I will never let that happen,” he said, dipping his head to slant his mouth over hers, his fingers trembling where he touched her. Cautiously, he brought a thumb up to press against her jaw, persuading her lips to part for his invasion. She tensed in protest as his deprived hunger demanded submission and forgiveness.
“Abby,” he whispered, gently urging her back to one of the pillar bookcases. She opened for him on a sigh, his tongue searching and stroking. He tried to remember if he’d locked the door, and then didn’t care. He’d gone too long without the feel of her against him, without the taste of her on his tongue. He broke from her mouth to kiss the throbbing pulse at her throat, her head tilting back to allow him easier access. He groaned, wanting to reacquaint himself with every silken inch of her.
****
Abby didn’t want to think about what was happening. She only wanted to lose herself in the moment and against Edmund. She lifted her hands to the back of his head, her fingers weaving into his thick, dark blond hair. Pleasure flowed through every cell as his mouth found hers in a slow, drugging kiss. Her limbs melted in a surge of heat as he pressed his body closer.
Then she remembered his marriage to Blaire. Near to gasping, she separated from him, delirious and dizzy. “What…what are you doing?”
His eyes narrowed. “Well, I’m fairly certain I’m kissing you.”
Frustrated beyond reason, she pushed away and turned, thrusting her fisted hands to her side. “You always do that!”
He glanced around, clueless. “Do what?”
“Distract me! I’m trying to stay strong, to let you go, to end this, and you find a way to pull me right back in.”
He feigned innocence. “What do you mean? Like this?” He hauled her back into his arms, this time lowering his mouth to hover a whisper over hers.
She dipped her head to keep from looking at him. “I will not kiss another woman’s husband…or fiancé.”
“That is very good to know,” he said, before lifting his hand to cup her face.
“Edmund, I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” His lazy and hypnotic voice washed over her, rendering her helpless.
“You’re not playing fair. Shouldn’t you be thinking about her right now?”
“Who?”
Abby let out a frustrated breath. “Your fiancée?”
There, that sobered him up, Abby thought as she lifted her gaze in time to watch his smile drop, pulling his face longer.
“Yes,” he nodded.
Well, she did deserve that answer after such a ridiculous question. Abby closed her eyes, his fiery gaze jumbling her reasonable thinking.
“Abby, look at me.” His soft and patient tone made her heart lurch. Obeying, she flipped her eyelids back open. He was staring, his once stormy eyes now tranquil and serious. His other palm lifted to cradle her face, the pad of his thumb tracing over the seam of her lips.
Before he could distract her, kiss her, melt her resolve until she had no fight left in her, she blurted something out, anything. “Thank you for finding my mother’s necklace. I don’t think I could ever repay you for doing that.”
His eyebrows arched. “I’m not looking to be repaid,” he said, almost offended. “I only wanted to make you happy by returning it. He paused. “But you don’t look happy.”
Abby brought her hand to rest against the cottony fabric of his shirt. She felt the thundering of his heartbeat. She’d read somewhere that lovers’ hearts synchronized at close distances. The way hers boomed in her chest at this moment, she had no doubt the story was true.
He opened his mouth to say something, when his hand fell to her throat. His head dipped as his fingers wrapped around her locket. “I didn’t want to open it, but I did wonder who you hold inside here.”
Quietly, she pressed on the tiny button and flipped the oval compartment open for him to see. His eyes widened in surprise.
“Were you expecting a picture?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“This tiny heart was the last thing my mom painted before she died. I couldn’t bear to cover it up. She said, as long as I follow it, that I would never be able to forget her because—”
“Because the
heart always remembers,” he finished, glancing down at the perfectly drawn symbol, the intimate red strokes still visible within the gold oval.
Abby nodded.
“It’s beautiful, like you.” His voice sounded raw and full of emotion.
Despite her jangled nerves, Abby couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease him. “You know, you are much more handsome when you’re complimenting me.”
“Then, you’re going to find me irresistible as time goes on.”
Now, his cautionary statement infuriated her. “Do not say things that cannot be true, Edmund.”
“Give me your hand,” he said, commanding but gentle.
“I suppose if I don’t, you’re going to come after it.”
He smiled and she lifted her right hand up between his chest and hers.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, the other one.”
In a daze, Abby did as he requested, watching as he withdrew one arm from her side to fish inside the pocket of his sports jacket. She swallowed loud, unable to believe or even comprehend what he was about to do. Between his thumb and index finger, he held a small ring made of white gold.
“I’ve been walking around with this for a long time. I bought it before,” he said, then hesitated. “Well, before I knew…before today. You deserve much better.”
Abby bit her lip. If this was a dream, she wanted to wake up now. Only, the harder she bit down, the more real Edmund and his purpose became. With Edmund, she had a taste of losing him, and it was hell. For so long, she’d remained independent and alone to keep from having to experience such loss and heartache ever again.
Only, she didn’t want to be alone anymore. More than this, she didn’t want to know life without Edmund. She wanted to share her dreams with him, to dance her last dance, with him.
“But what about the wedding invitation Will gave me?” she asked, her voice still unsteady.
Edmund drew back, his features pulled taut with surprise and perplexity. “What…wedding invitation?”
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