by Cheryl Bolen
As he reached for his wine glass to wash the sour taste from his mouth, Peter spoke. “Leave.”
“Peter,” David started.
But his friend’s chin lifted. His eyes blazed with hate. “Take your money-grubbing ways out of my house. You are not to set foot within until month’s end.”
David sighed and stood. “As you wish.”
He strode from the room and picked up his hat and gloves from the entrance table. A movement inside the parlor drew his eye. Abigail waited with Miss George by her side, her clenched hands and panicked expression the final sign he could no longer call himself a good man.
He knew this could happen but it hurt far more than he’d anticipated. Rather than speak to her, and risk Peter’s temper, David backed toward the door and quickly let himself out. He should not have come to Brighton. He should have let Knight handle the matter himself and mourned the loss of friends at a distance.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Glass shattered within the dining room. Abigail rushed there to see what Peter was about. She ducked as a wine bottle flew over her head to smash against the cream-papered walls. “Peter, what on earth is the matter with you?”
But the brother she knew and loved had fled. In his place was a caged beast, striding from one end of the small room to the other, hands waving about in agitation. She had never seen him this way before and he frightened her. He tore his hands through his hair, almost as if he meant to rip it from his head, but he didn’t stop moving.
Determined to end the madness, Abigail stepped into his path. “Peter, stop a moment and tell me what’s wrong.” She grabbed for him, but he eluded her. He backed away quickly, and then spun for the door. Unfortunately, Imogen stood between him and the door and, in his haste, Peter didn’t see her. He crashed into Imogen and she was knocked to the hard floor, a startled oomph leaving her lips.
Abigail hurried across the room as Peter lifted Imogen to her feet, apologies tumbling from his lips so rapidly Imogen had no chance to respond. All of a sudden, Imogen captured his face between her hands and held him still. “Accidents happen, Mr. Watson. I’m uninjured.”
Abigail’s brother closed his eyes briefly as Imogen moved her fingers over his red cheeks, and then he wrenched himself away, rushing for the door and leaving without even taking his hat or gloves.
“Peter, wait,” Abigail called after him, but he never replied. She rushed to the front steps and peered down Cavendish Place. The street was deserted at this hour and after a time she had no choice but to shut the front door. He would come back soon. He and David must have quarreled, although she hadn’t heard a word of their conversation from the parlor.
He would calm down soon enough. He simply needed time to take it all in. She followed Imogen into the parlor, and then realized her friend was limping. “Imogen, you are hurt.”
“So it would seem. I landed somewhat awkwardly. I’ll be all right in a little while.”
Imogen sat on the couch, but it was clear from the way she winced that her injury resided on her bottom. “Where will he go, do you think?”
Abigail rubbed her temple hard. “I hate to speculate, but I hope he does not go to another hell. That won’t solve the problem.”
“No. Gambling now will not solve anything, but could get you deeper into trouble. I wish he would come back soon. I do not like to think of you here alone if he returns in a temper.”
“Peter is not a violent person. I am sure today is an aberration.” Abigail nibbled at her fingertip, uncertain of what to do next. It wasn’t like Peter to rush off into the night without a word to where he was going. Should she follow him?
Imogen pursed her lips. “Troubled times calls for family and friends to stick together not bottle everything up inside. Did he confide in anyone?”
“Not that I ever learned. He never really told me of his financial issues, remember.”
They both jumped as three knocks rattled the front door.
“Simpson will see who it is.” Abigail peered at Imogen as she gingerly repositioned herself on the couch. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you?”
Imogen shook her head. “It’s mostly my pride that is bruised.”
Simpson’s slow steps echoed in the hall and then male voices sounded. At last, Simpson came to the parlor doorway. “Mr. Hawke wishes to inquire if you are in need, Miss Watson. He is quite concerned.”
Abigail’s heart raced. If she asked David to find Peter and bring him home again, would he be willing? “Please ask him to come in, Mr. Simpson, so I may reassure him in person.”
“I did ask him to step inside, but he has refused.” Simpson glanced over his shoulder before he spoke. “I believe the master did banish Mr. Hawke from entering the house ever again before he stormed out.”
Abigail jumped to her feet. Why would Peter be so cruel to their friend? It wasn’t David’s fault Peter was in debt. She rushed for the front door. David waited on the pavement, pacing to and fro.
When he saw her, his shoulders sagged. “I shouldn’t be here, but I had to check. Is everything all right within?”
“Yes, everything is fine.” She glanced up and down the street and saw more than one head at the curtains, outlined by the candlelight behind them. “Please come in.”
“I am afraid I may not. I wanted to see for myself that you remain unharmed.” David stepped closer to the door. “I heard glass break.”
His voice dipped to a rough murmur and Abigail’s stomach tumbled all over itself. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but with the residents of the street watching them, she didn’t dare. “It was nothing. Peter was upset tonight. I’m quick on my feet.”
A soft smile tugged at David’s mouth. “I do recall that. Forgive me for intruding. I saw him rush off and couldn’t help myself.”
He skimmed his fingertips along her cheek in a fleeting caress.
“Mr. Hawke,” Imogen called, limping toward the door and breaking the spell between them. “May I have a word in private?”
Her hard glance caused a blush to heat Abigail’s cheek. She should not allow David to touch her so tenderly where anyone passing by could see. Yet she couldn’t seem to find her good sense around him.
David nodded as Imogen joined them at the door. “Of course.”
Imogen kissed her cheek. “Try not to worry. I will see you soon.”
“You’re going?”
Her friend nodded. “I shall gather Walter and set out on Peter’s trail to ensure he does nothing foolish.” She stepped out onto the street, whispered something to David that Abigail could not hear and moved away. After a few steps, David glanced over his shoulder, but the expression on his face was as bleak as the day of his arrival.
*
“If you toy with my friends affections for sport I shall be very cross with you Mr. Hawke. I shall name a terrible villain after you and plot a grisly demise.”
David gulped, very sure Miss George would paint him the worst bounder. “I hardly know how to answer you. I’d not planned any of this.”
For a man who planned everything he was completely out of his depth when it came to his pretty neighbor. He needed to take greater care to hide his interest.
“Then I suggest you start planning how it will end. I hope not badly for Abigail. She has always looked up to you. Ah, here we are.”
“Miss George, might I inquire as to your plan?” David looked down at the woman on his arm. “Rushing after Peter Watson might not be advisable given his mood.”
“I do not believe allowing him to wallow in his current frame of mind would be wise.” She rapped on her front door, smiled at her housekeeper. “Would you know the location of my brother, Mrs. Perkins?”
“He’s at supper, miss.”
“Ah, perfect. If he’s already eaten then he’ll be an amiable companion for a stroll. If any woman wanted to snare my brother for a wife all they need do is see his meals were delivered promptly. Thank you for your time this evening, Mr. Hawke.”
She curtsied to him and then quickly shut the door. David remained where he stood, trying to figure out what Miss George thought she could achieve by chasing after Peter in the middle of the night. Did every woman in Cavendish Place have no care for her reputation?
David raked his fingers through his hair, speculating on the increase of grey appearing at his temples. “Not my problem,” he muttered to himself. There really was nothing more he could do.
He slowly retraced his steps, glancing at the façade of the Watson’s residence to see if Abigail lingered at a window. The curtain didn’t move and with a pang of disappointment he went to his own door and let himself inside.
His townhouse was silent, save for the whimpers emanating from the rear of the house. He hurried to the kitchen and scooped the puppy up against his chest. “Here I am, Princess. No need to fret.”
The animal licked his fingers and wagged its tail so much David feared it would do itself an injury. After soothing the beast, David stepped out into the dark rear yard. He set the puppy down in a small patch of grass and looked up into the night sky.
Even with the puppy for company, he was lonely.
Perhaps he should consider finding a wife.
But the only woman he could imagine spending his nights and days with was Abigail and now he couldn’t even call on her to court her properly. Peter would never agree, given the business between them. The thought of how long it might take to repair their friendship wasn’t comforting. He could be waiting a long time and he didn’t want to wait another day.
He glanced at the rear of Abigail’s house, where he knew her bedchamber to be. It was dark which must mean she had already turned in for the night. Disappointment filled him. He was alone again and he was tired of it.
He sat down on a patch of grass and considered what to do. Should he approach Peter first or try to get Abigail alone again to see if she was interested? She’d clearly stated she wasn’t looking for a husband. Would she accept if he asked her?
The rear garden gate creaked and he looked up. Abigail approached slowly, her head tilted to one side, still wearing the dress that had tortured him during dinner. “I was afraid you had company for a moment.”
He patted the pup who had just taken an interest in the tip of his boot. “Miss Watson, may I introduce Princess? Princess, you have the honor of meeting our remarkable young neighbor.”
Abigail knelt beside him and stretched her fingers out to the pup. When Princess licked at her fingers a happy smile flittered over her face. Abigail had a tender heart and made friends very easily. He would like to see her smile so every day. He was sure the effort to make her happy would be worth any sacrifice.
He yearned to pull her into his arms and promise everything would turn out for the best. “I take it Peter has not returned.”
Her head lowered and her fingers clasped together. “No.”
“Abigail, may I ask you a question?”
Her smile was immediate. “Of course.”
“Why are you here?”
She shrugged and returned her attention to Princess. “I feel comfortable with you.”
“Is that all?”
She picked up the puppy and cuddled it against her chest. “You leave soon.”
“True.” And he’d never been so reluctant to return to the capital before.
She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. “It’ll be another year before I can talk to you again.”
He nodded, his heartbeat increasing at the idea she might miss him when he was in London. He eased closer until they sat side by side in the dark. “I must return to the city. I have responsibilities.”
“I know and do admire you for that. But, it becomes very quiet when you are gone. I don’t want to miss a moment.”
David’s thoughts tumbled over themselves. He, too, would miss her and treasured these stolen moments, more than he ever realized he would. David didn’t want them to end when he left. He wanted Abigail in his life. He stood and held out his hand. “Princess should be put to bed.”
Abigail laid her hand in his and allowed him to raise her to her feet. “She’s lovely. Where did she come from?”
He stood aside so she could enter his home first and quietly shut then locked the door behind them. They were alone; the first time he had willingly, intentionally, done something that might ruin her reputation. And he did not care. “I found her under a cabbage actually.”
“Really. I thought that sort of thing was simply for fairytales and little children’s bedtime stories.”
Abigail’s laughter filled his house, causing him to join in. “Hence my decision to name her Princess. Do you like her?”
“I do. She has a sweet disposition.”
“I wondered if you might take her.”
Her gaze rose to his. “I would love to, except I have no idea where I’ll be living soon.”
He took the pup and settled the animal back in her bed. “I’ve been giving that some thought tonight and I had considered offering Peter my house to live in until he could make other arrangements.”
Abigail backed from the room, one eye on the drowsy puppy. “He wouldn’t accept.”
David followed and joined her in the hall. Princess whimpered and then fell silent. He hoped she would be a deep sleeper tonight. “Then my offer would be to you. I know how much you love Brighton. It distresses me that I’ll be responsible for forcing you away.”
She pressed a finger to his lips, ending the string of apologies crowding his mind. “I’ll be fine, David. I’m not completely helpless.”
This business was in no way fair to her. “Even so.”
She drew closer, rose up on her toes, and brushed her lips against his in a fleeting kiss. “Shh, don’t worry about me so much.”
David searched her face, saw nothing but affection and trust there. He swallowed. He simply couldn’t walk away from Abigail when her future was so uncertain. “I don’t seem able to prevent that.”
She grinned. “Then you don’t really mind me being here.”
David lifted a hand to her cheek and stroked his thumb over the soft surface. No other woman had ever gotten under his skin like this. He could not, would not, fight the instinct to keep her close. To do everything he could to protect her and keep her for himself was imperative. There was only Abigail. “No. In fact, I think it would be best for you to stay.”
When she nodded, David scooped her into his arms and carried her upstairs to his bedchamber before she thought better of her decision.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Days of frustration fell away as David closed his bedchamber door behind them. Abigail had a look in her eye David liked very much. A look that said she agreed with his decision to make love to her tonight. He couldn’t deny his feelings for her if he wanted to, and he did not fight the joy this moment brought him. He slowly lowered her to her feet but kept her close as a bubble of happiness crowded his chest. “Abigail, you shouldn’t be here now, not yet anyway, but I won’t deny I want you more than I can say.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” she assured him. Abigail smiled shyly at him and he fell completely, irrevocably, in love with her as she kicked off her shoes.
He dipped his head, and skimmed his lips across hers.
Days between kisses faded. He was back in that moment when he knew he was doing wrong but was utterly powerless to stop. He should wait until they were married or at the very least wait until the marriage contract had been signed. But she touched his chest lightly and such a small sensation wasn’t enough. He pulled her firmly against his body and held her closer.
She said nothing to discourage him, but she encircled his neck with her arms and tangled her fingers into his hair at the nape. Goose flesh swept his body. David plundered her mouth, drinking in her taste, her warmth and her sweet response to his kisses.
When he drew back, she had closed her eyes. “Abigail,” he whispered.
Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him.
“David.”
He kissed her cheek, her neck, and across her collarbone. “I am afraid, as much as I admire how pretty you are this evening, I’m going to delight in mussing you up.”
Abigail tightened her grip about his neck and smiled up at him with bright trusting eyes. “I think I would like that. Tell me what to do?”
David sucked in a breath and ran his hands over her back. “Simply being here is enough. How could I be so fortunate as to win you?”
Abigail molded herself to him, her hands restless in his hair. David kissed her again with all the pent-up passion a week of wanting—and fighting that want—could provide. Tomorrow he would buy Abigail a pretty ring to place on her finger, speak to Peter to make their union official. She would never lack any comfort, but tonight he would make Abigail his forever.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth, tasting, teasing enough to make Abigail moan. He drew back to look at her. Her skin was flushed, lips parted and damp. He kissed her softly and then her eyes snapped opened again, shrewdly assessing him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re wonderful?”
“No. But I’m sure I’m only that way because of you.”
Her hands fluttered over his chest and finally settled at the top of his waistcoat. She undid the first button and bit her lip. She moved her fingers down to the next and the next until his waistcoat hung open.
David lifted his hands to her beautiful hair and carefully removed the pins. The pale strands tumbled down her back in waves and he tossed the pins over his shoulder as impatience seized him. He ran his fingers through the strands. “This is the second time I’ve seen your hair down.”
Abigail pushed his coat and waistcoat from his shoulders and they fell to the floor in a messy heap. A frown marred her brow. “When was the first?”