by Cheryl Bolen
Her head bobbed enthusiastically. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Peter is an amiable man. What else?”
“I’d have to like the woman.”
Her chin dipped and she raised a fingertip to her mouth. “Can you make someone like you even when they didn’t to begin with?”
David regarded her warily. Abigail had always held a special place in his heart. He’d never had a sister and he’d watched her grow with a certain kind of pride. However, his feelings for her now were certainly not brotherly. Did she realize that? “It happens all the time, of course. Sometimes people pretend affection to obtain the alliance, but the problem with that is they never know the real you and often don’t enjoy the later discovery. Miss Watson, are you trying to pair your brother with a woman who does not care for him? You will do him no favors if you are.”
“She could come to love him,” she declared boldly.
Her sweet face held so much hope that he wanted to reassure her instantly. But he disliked giving anyone false hope. What she wanted might not be possible. “Miss Watson, you cannot force love and attraction. It simply is there, or it’s not.” After all, what had sprung up between them had caught him by surprise—proof that his own words held more than a grain of truth.
A harsh knock sounded on the door and Abigail gasped. “Someone is here.”
“Obviously,” David murmured. He stood, caught her hand and pulled her from the sofa. “You need to hide. Quietly now, lets not make too much sound and see if your reputation can be salvaged.”
She clutched his hand tightly. Her warm brown gaze rose to his and his breath caught. “But we haven’t finished talking,” she whispered.
Her grip changed, and she stroked his thumb with hers. David stared at her, feeling altogether besieged by stirrings he shouldn’t acknowledge. “Miss Watson, are you here to ask my help to find Peter a wife, or were you hoping to secure a rich husband for yourself by any means—even compromise?”
Abigail had the grace to blush. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Yet she still didn’t release him.
He tugged until their hands parted. “But here you are, unchaperoned, in a bachelor’s household with no apparent intentions of leaving. It appears very odd to say you are not looking to be wed when your actions suggest you are.”
“I’ll hide. We can talk another time,” she murmured, and then hurried down the hall.
Although he regretted what he had to do, David steered her toward the hall closet far away from the front door. Abigail wrinkled her nose, but then she looked up and quickly brushed her fingers through his hair. Her touch was soft and stirred him beyond words.
“It’s still a bit messy from your long sleep,” she whispered.
Her bare fingers brushed his ear, and then his jaw as she caressed him. The urge to kiss her rose again.
David quickly shut the door in her face. What was he going to do with her? She couldn’t go five minutes without shocking the hell out of him and he was on the verge of doing something extremely wrong. He raked his fingers through his hair to finish her work as he approached the door.
A quick glance through the peep hole showed Peter Watson standing on the top step. Of all the rotten luck. He couldn’t risk inviting Peter into the house in case Abigail revealed herself accidentally. The discussion about the debt would have to wait yet again. David glanced over his shoulder to make sure Abigail remained hidden before he opened his front door. “Mr. Watson, what a surprise.”
Peter frowned, glancing past David’s shoulder. “Is this a bad time?”
The worst in living memory. David set the tip of his boot behind the door just in case he was dealing with an angry brother who knew his sister was as good as ruined and planned to barge in and throttle him. “Actually, it is.”
“Ah. Well. Here.” Watson thrust an envelope at him. “My sister suggested we invite you to dine tomorrow night.”
David took the envelope, a small ripple of unease curling through him. He would now have the opportunity to speak privately with Peter, but Abigail’s dinner would be spoiled because of it. “That is very kind of her. Of you both. I’d be honored to attend.”
Watson shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable with his errand. “Well, we will see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” David closed the door on Peter slowly, and waited ‘till he’d returned to his own house before rejoining Miss Watson down the hall. However, the closet was empty when he opened the door.
When he checked the house, Abigail had vanished as if she’d never been there at all.
CHAPTER NINE
Abigail threw herself over Imogen’s bed and covered her face with both hands. “I am in so much trouble.”
Imogen, seated at her desk by the window, calmly packed away her papers before patting Abigail’s head. “I take it Mr. Hawke has delivered his bad news.”
She lifted her head from the counterpane. “No, he hasn’t spoken to Peter. The wait may be killing me, but it is so much worse than that.” David’s bad news paled in comparison to her situation. She had made a terrible mistake and had no idea what to do to rectify the situation. Abigail rolled over and stared at the square white ceiling above her, wishing she could hide from the truth. She was a wicked, wanton woman who couldn’t control her riotous imagination. Visions of yesterday’s visit to David Hawke’s house wouldn’t leave her. Another blush heated her cheeks as she remembered the sight of him propped up in his wide bed, and the brief flashes of his bare skin made her breath catch even now.
Imogen sat next to her. “Then you haven’t spoken to Peter about marriage to Miss Merton?”
Abigail shook her head. “Not yet. I haven’t had an opportunity.”
“Well I cannot say I’m disappointed,” her friend told her. “Your brother could do far better than to marry a woman who’d make him miserable with every word she uttered. I’ve never known anyone to be so disagreeable so often. Is there anything she does like?”
“I do hope so.” Abigail fidgeted. Miss Merton’s exacting nature was a considerable hurdle to overcome. “Otherwise I don’t know what else I’ll do. It seems like the only choice now.”
Imogen clasped her hand tightly. “Peter will find a way out, I’m sure. He always manages to land on his feet. But is that the only matter of concern? You seem more troubled than I’ve ever seen you.”
Abigail drew in a deep breath. She had been bursting to tell Imogen about her encounters with David since the moment they had happened. But she’d never felt so confused before. Kissing David was both desirable and wrong. He’d made it very plain he wasn’t interested in sharing further kisses. “I kissed David Hawke the night he arrived in Brighton.”
Imogen’s sharp intake of breath made her wince. “And you waited ‘till now to tell me?”
Abigail covered her hot face with her hands. “Actually, the kiss was a few days ago and I was embarrassed. I am still embarrassed,” she mumbled. Not exactly true but close enough. The embarrassment stemmed mainly from her wish for further kisses and David’s reluctance to grant them.
Imogen pulled Abigail’s hands away from her face so she couldn’t hide, her brow creased with concern. “Embarrassed? Why? Was it ghastly? Does he have foul breath?”
“No, the exact opposite of ghastly.” Abigail closed her eyes, remembering the slight rasp of his evening whiskers against her lips. Yesterday morning he’d looked so handsomely disheveled, his jaw so dark with new growth that she’d had to touch, she couldn’t not think about him every moment since. She covered her eyes to block out the memory. But it was no use. He had managed to replace every foolish fantasy she’d ever entertained about men. “He kisses very well. However, I do not believe David would agree with me. He didn’t appear happy afterward.”
“Well, the nerve of him.” Imogen grew an inch in height, full of righteous indignation. “I hope you can put the incident from your mind. There are many men with better manners.”
If only words could expunge
her wickedness. “Imogen, I’m afraid there is more,” Abigail said softly. Better to get the whole truth out before she lost her courage. Imogen would never tell and could be counted on to offer sound guidance.
“Oh dear, have you made a fool of yourself over him?” Imogen hurried to the door, peeked out, and then closed it fully to give them privacy. When she returned, she gave Abigail’s hand a squeeze. “Did you expect him to propose because of a single kiss? I know for a fact that gentlemen place little importance on a girl’s first kiss. As long as no one sees, they never think of it again.”
“Two kisses. But the lack of proposal is not what concerns me. I never thought he would look at me in that way. He’s much too grand.” She shook her head again. “However, I went to his house yesterday.” And she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of returning to see more of David Hawke since: his broad shoulders, his muscular arms, his utterly devastating smile when he laughed. He made her feel completely different than usual and she had no idea what to do about it or him.
“Abigail,” Imogen cried out. “Are you all right? Did he impose on you?”
“Of course I am all right,” Abigail groaned. “Why would you imagine I wouldn’t be? Mr. Hawke is a gentleman.”
Far too much of a gentleman, in fact. He’d had ample opportunity to kiss her, touch her, and had not taken advantage of the situation. It had been decidedly lowering to be so unable to stir him to the same passion he inflicted on her senses while she couldn’t seem to behave properly in his presence.
“Not much of a gentleman to have kissed you and not proposed.” Imogen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now, because you are such an innocent in the ways of men, I want you to explain to me exactly what happened between you both. I’ll force his hand toward matrimony if he’s led you astray.”
Panic rose in Abigail’s chest. “Don’t you dare do such a thing. He did nothing wrong. I was worried about him,” she said, her voice softening on the last. She squared her shoulders. “No one could recall seeing David since he went swimming on Sunday morning. By Monday morning I was concerned and went to call on his housekeeper. She said he was still abed and complained he’d not bothered to eat the meal she’d prepared the day before. The moment his breath drifted over my finger while he slept brought tears of relief to my eyes. I’ve never known someone to sleep so soundly. He didn’t stir except to breathe.”
“But, Abigail, he can take care of himself and always has,” Imogen said sternly. “You should not have risked your reputation like that.”
“That was exactly what he said, but I’d like to know who does worry for him,” she demanded. Poor David had no one else that she could see. “Certainly not his housekeeper. None of his friends, our brothers, called at his house this morning to inquire about his absence.”
Imogen sighed again. “You were watching his house all day? Oh, of course you were. You were waiting for him to call on Peter to deliver the letter.”
She nodded. Another half truth.
“I know I must forget the kisses with David, and I will in time.” Heat swept Abigail’s cheeks. “But the waiting is killing me and I have had enough. I’ve arranged a dinner and invited David to attend tonight to speed along the process of bringing the matter of the debt into the open.”
“Are you sure that is a wise thing to do? Peter may not appreciate your meddling in his affairs.”
Abigail shrugged. “I love my brother, but I know his faults well. He will wait until the last moment and then everything will be in a panic. The best thing to do is discuss the matter as rational adults, explain the benefits of a prudent marriage, and hope he sees sense. Will you come?”
“Your brother will not like having a witness overhear any part of the conversation between himself and Hawke,” Imogen warned. “He will be embarrassed if he discovers I’m aware of the problems he faces. What if the gentlemen argue?”
Abigail took a deep breath. “I need a fourth to make the dinner even and I’m also hoping your presence will prevent any words from spilling over into unpleasantness. Please, Imogen. I only ask because I know you can keep a secret.”
Along with keeping the men civil, Imogen would distract her from staring at David’s lips all night. How could she look at him over the dinner table without remembering him nearly naked and undressing him with her eyes? The evening could very well be a disaster if she blushed and stammered that he was the most beautiful man she had ever met. At least Imogen could be counted on to kick her under the table if she was struck dumb by him.
“All right, but don’t expect me to have any influence on either gentleman,” Imogen said eventually. “They always do as they wish in my opinion. Eight o’clock?”
“Thank you. I knew I could count on you.” She gave Imogen a long hug and then fell back on the mattress. “With you there tonight I’m sure the evening will end well. Peter would never raise his voice in front of you.”
“Don’t be surprised if he does.” Imogen stood. “At least I’ll be on hand to prevent any further kisses from occurring between you and Mr. Hawke. I won’t leave you alone with him for even a moment. Now, how about we take a walk? All this fretting over David and Peter is very bad for you. The fresh sea air will clear your head.”
Abigail allowed Imogen to pull her to her feet and they made slow progress toward the channel. Although Imogen meant well by her words, they disappointed Abigail. She’d been secretly hoping for another opportunity to speak privately with David about Peter’s future marriage. She was hoping he’d come up with an idea to encourage the match between her brother and Miss Merton because Abigail couldn’t think of one. And if they were alone, and kisses were in the offing, would it be entirely bad if she tasted David just once more?
“Imogen,” Abigail began. “How is it you’ve become such an authority on men?”
A small smile twisted her friend’s lips. “Believe me, it wasn’t planned.”
Abigail caught Imogen’s arm. “Come on. I told you my secrets. It’s about time you shared yours.”
Imogen was the closest thing to an older sister and she felt a little cheated to be excluded from her secrets.
Her friend sighed. “Very well. I fell in love a long time ago, but it didn’t last or lead to anything more.”
“But why not? You’re lovely.”
“The gentleman’s thoughts and mine didn’t align. I thought I had found the love of my life and planned to marry him but he thought he’d found a naïve and willing girl to warm his bed for the summer.”
“That’s terrible.” Abigail stopped. “What happened? When did this happen?”
“Two summers ago.” They let a carriage pass and then continued on for the seashore. “When I discovered my error, and his plans, I made sure the gentleman walked with a distinct limp for a little while.”
“You did what Peter warned me to do if ever I was importuned.”
Imogen nodded. “I’ve considered thanking him for the suggestion, but that could lead to questions I’d rather not answer. Since then, I’ve made a study of the men of our acquaintance. They really are simple creatures. A suggestion of pleasure or a favorite treat can often be the perfect lure to get what you want from them.”
Abigail sighed. So far she had failed to tempt David into doing what she wanted. He did exactly as he pleased. “David Hawke is not like that.”
“Hawke is exactly like that. So is your brother, by the way. Men each have desires that drive them and those needs can be fulfilled if you are brave enough to tempt them the right way. However, you must be careful because marriage is not at the forefront of their thinking. Everything else decadent is.”
“Imogen,” Abigail began with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had Imogen gone too far and been ruined? Was that why her opinion of men was so low? “Have you ever been very brave when it comes to men?”
“In my opinion, a lady should never admit to her own ruin.” Imogen stared out to sea, her gaze thoughtful and serious. “However, the answer is
no. I’ve never found a man who could tempt me to throw my principles aside so completely for the sake of a little passion. Mind you, I’m not adverse to the idea where there is love involved. Yet circumstances and my nature make me doubt I could ever be so foolish as to trust my heart to any man unless it was for the deepest bonds of affection.”
CHAPTER TEN
David leaned back in his chair, listening to the familiar tick of the ormolu mantle clock and the silence of his Brighton house. The stillness bothered him a great deal today. He’d gone out earlier to visit Mrs. Wiggins, an old acquaintance of his mother’s, to offer his condolences on her husband’s death. But their time together had only reminded him of the barren emptiness of his home life. During his visit, Mrs. Wiggins’ two daughters had called, young ones clinging to their skirts.
Her questions about his solitary state and lack of children had been excruciatingly direct. He’d actually blushed and stammered like a younger man would when embarrassed because the image of a likely wife and children were remarkably like Abigail Watson in appearance. It didn’t help that Mrs. Wiggins had mentioned Abigail in passing at least a dozen times. He’d had no idea his neighbor had become fast friends with the woman.
Since his return, he’d given in to the urge to check he was alone in the house, and not about to be besieged by Abigail. It was ridiculous to think she might come back. Although he hoped she would not risk her reputation again just to speak to him, a part of him looked forward to it. He would see her at dinner tonight, with actual chaperones this time, but he had no further insights to share on how to make Peter Watson—or any man—propose marriage to a woman if he didn’t want her for his wife.
He tucked away his folder of notes, the topmost of which was Miss George’s banking statement, disturbed by his lack of focus. He’d meet with Miss George and her brother tomorrow afternoon, well ahead of his departure for London, and hopefully discuss investment opportunities for the next year. Miss George should be pleased with the state of her investments. However, after the Watsons were served with their notice, he had doubts he’d remain as banker to the Georges.