An Invitation to Scandal (22 page)

“Then he did care for me?”

Caelie smiled. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

The idea settled around her, finding cracks in her armor where it could seep through. How she had longed to hear those words two years ago. To discover them now, when it was too late…but was it?

“Do not raise your hopes, Abigail.”

Caelie’s advice caught her off guard. Was she so transparent? She forced a light laugh. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I know you once hung your hopes on Lord Roxton and I know your feelings linger still.” She held up a hand when Abigail tried to protest. “You would not have been as angry with him as you were, if your heart was not engaged. But he has made it very clear he plans to offer for Miss Caldwell. His mother and his sister have said as much.”

“But, he does not love her.”

Caelie shrugged. “What is love? It seems everyone has their own definition of the word and they toss it about as it pleases them.”

Abigail had the distinct impression they were no longer speaking about Lord Roxton. “Did you not love Lord Billingsworth?”

Caelie’s cheeks turned pink. “I thought so. And I thought he loved me, though in hindsight, he had never said the words. As it turns out, I was wrong. He did not love me, or at least he did not love me enough to stay. I placed my hopes where they did not belong. I don’t want you to do the same and experience the hurt and humiliation I did as a result.”

Abigail reached out and took Caelie’s hand. “Lord Billingsworth did not deserve you, Caelie. I always thought so. You will find your love one day. I know it. Why, you danced with any number of gentlemen last night.”

Caelie offered a weak smile. “And after the dance, did any of those gentlemen linger? Did they make any effort to engage in conversation or flirtation? No. I know you think Lady Blackbourne’s support will change things, but my path is set, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t you still hope for love?” It broke Abigail’s heart to think her cousin had given up.

“I hope for many things,” Caelie said. “But mostly I hope that you will tread carefully. I do not wish to see you in the same predicament as me because of foolish choices you can’t take back.”

“I promise I will be careful.” She would promise anything if it would put a smile on Caelie’s face. And for a brief moment, it did.

“Very good, then.” Caelie looked up at the sky. “I think I will return to the house. Will you join me?”

Abigail shook her head. “I think I will stay here a little longer.”

Caelie’s words had given her pause. She needed time to think, to consider all she had learned over the past day.

“We did not get a chance to finish our conversation earlier.” Nicholas had returned and held out a hand to assist Abigail once she had gathered up the blanket she’d sat upon. The weather had started to turn, and many were headed back to the main house to escape the dark clouds and strong winds that had kicked up. She straggled behind, enjoying the last bit of freedom before she must return to acting the proper lady once again.

“Did we have more to say?” She’d mulled over what had been said for the past hour, dissecting every word, turning them over in her mind again and again. His confessions had stirred something in her, memories of how things used to be, of dreams she’d held for the two of them, the hurt and confusion when he’d suddenly dropped his suit. Now her questions had been answered, and the answers left her at odds, torn between what she had believed and the truth.

“I think there is always something left to say between us, don’t you?” He looked down at her as she took his offered hand, his devastating charm firmly in place. Abigail decided then and there his most atrocious sin was simply being too handsome to bear. She could gaze into those silvery eyes until she lost herself in their depths.

“I have not seen much of Lord Blackbourne. Is he not well?”

“His health has declined this year.”

“Can I assume he was not at all pleased to hear we were included on the guest list?”

“I would not take it personally,” he said as he offered his arm. “He cares little for anything or anyone affiliated with me. One of the main reasons I set up my own home was to escape his constant censure.”

His own home. Across the street from her. “And why did you choose that particular address?”

He glanced down at her and smiled. “It has the most beautiful view in the city.”

Abigail blushed, his meaning clear as he stared into her eyes. She looked away and quickly changed the subject. “How does Miss Caldwell feel about your current location?”

“I believe Miss Caldwell is more interested in my fortune than my living arrangements.”

Abigail breathed deeply and took in the scent of wildflowers and new beginnings. “I think it a shame a marriage should start with only that as its foundation.”

“Is that not the basis for your own impending marriage?”

Abigail stopped walking. “Lord Tarrington has not officially proposed as yet, though it is expected. I know it prudent I accept when he does, for my family’s sake, but—”

“But what?”

She glanced up at him. “I had hoped to find love before it came to that.”

“And have you?” He turned to face her and caught her hand as it slipped from his arm. The wind whipped around them. It tangled her skirts about her legs and pulled at her hairpins until several curls slipped free She cared little. She saved her concern for the man standing in front of her, so much like the one she’d originally fallen in love with, and so different from the monster she had created in her mind. How wrong she had been, so blinded by her own pain and sorrow.

“I thought I had found love once.” Despite Caelie’s dire warning, she could not help but take the chance that maybe he shared her feelings. What if he did? What if they could save themselves from the horrible fate of being married to people they did not care for, and instead spend a lifetime with someone they could?

He smiled and something inside of him seemed to ease. He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand tighter.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could kiss you right now,” he whispered.

His unexpected admission shocked her. A thrill raced from tip to toe. She wished it too, but they were so close to the house and a few other guests still milled about. He could not kiss her, not even on the hand without causing talk. But knowing that did not stop the deep longing inside of her.

“I wish you could too,” she admitted.

He opened his eyes and a hint of the rake he’d once been sparkled within them despite the lack of sunlight.

“I
will
kiss you,” he said. “Properly this time. Not here, and not now, but I will. And when I do there will be nothing left in this world but the two of us.”

His words robbed her of breath. But would one last kiss be enough?

“You say the most scandalous things.”

“I have the most scandalous thoughts. Would you like to hear some of them?” Humor curved his mouth into a slow grin.

His offer tempted. Her chest tightened and good sense balanced on a slippery edge. He had always done this to her, made her want to throw caution to the wind. Perhaps Uncle had been justified in his worry over her virtue where it concerned Nicholas.

“I think you should escort me the rest of the way,” she whispered. “Because if you do not, I may say yes, and then there is no telling the path it will lead us down.”

His smile deepened and Abigail feared her heart would burst. How could it have come to this? She had come to this party with such trepidation, fearful of the cost of being around him, and now…now her anger had been proven erroneous, and once gone, it left in its wake the strong feelings she’d nursed in the beginning of their relationship.

Had he ever been the true enemy? Or just the easiest place to spend her pain? Perhaps, in the end, her true enemy had been her anger. It had blinded her to anyone else’s pain but her own. Somehow, somewhere, Nicholas had lifted the veil from her eyes and suddenly things became much clearer.
He
became much clearer.

He stepped away and held out his arm once again. “My lady.”

She slipped her hand through his arm and sighed. This was how it should be, she realized. How it should have always been. How different their lives would be now had Uncle Henry and Aunt Edythe not interfered.

But they had, and they had all paid the price. She could not reverse time. It marched forward and took them all along with it whether they liked it or not. But the question remained—could she change the path she traveled now?

* * *

Nicholas hesitated outside the earl’s rooms. He had been summoned. Never a good sign. His father rarely had anything to do with him, and when he did, it never ended well. He took a deep breath and knocked at the door. His father’s valet appeared and let him in.

“He is in his bedchamber.” The valet indicated the door beyond the sitting area with a sweeping gesture. “He is expecting you.”

Of course he is, Nicholas thought. One did not ignore a summons from the Earl of Blackbourne if one knew what was good for them.

Still, every time the man called for him, Nicholas toyed with the idea of doing just that. He could not help the childish fantasy, but in the end, as always he put his feelings aside and entered into the lion’s lair.

The room held a sweetly fetid smell. It reminded Nicholas of decay, and in a sense, that was what was happening. His father had been deteriorating for the past year, but it had grown worse over the last three months. He spent most of his time in his rooms, no longer having the energy he’d once possessed. Though never a large man by any means, Blackbourne had shrunken to a fraction of his former size. Skin hung loosely from his bones as if its grip grew tenuous.

The running of the estates had fallen almost entirely to Nicholas, a task he found himself surprisingly adept at. It galled the earl to no end. Nicholas knew his father had expected him to fail miserably. In truth, so had Nicholas. But putting his mind to it helped him escape the guilt of his past and the misery of his future, if only for a little while.

“Sit.” The earl nodded to the chair near the side of the bed. Again, Nicholas fought the urge to turn and leave, to walk away and never look back. Perhaps if his mother and sister did not count on him, he would do just that. An appealing thought, especially if his escape included Abigail.

Nicholas pulled the chair away from the bed and sat down.

“Is there something I can do for you, Blackbourne?” He never called him Father to his face. Blackbourne would not bear the mockery of such an address, and Nicholas could not stand the hypocrisy of it. It was the only point they agreed upon.

Yet Blackbourne would allow another man’s bastard to inherit his title and lands if it meant his daughter would be safe. Despite what the earl thought of him, no one questioned Nicholas’s loyalty to his mother and sister. Even Blackbourne knew that under Nicholas’s protection, they would want for nothing. Had he produced a male heir, however, Nicholas would have been cast out years ago.

The hypocrisy disgusted them both. Yet both allowed the charade to continue.

“I am not well,” the earl began, twitching a hand at his wasted form. “My time will be coming soon.”

Nicholas waited for a sense of sadness at this news.

It never came.

“As such, I need to ensure things are in order,” Blackbourne continued.

A sense of unease crept up Nicholas’s spine. “What kind of things?”

The earl glared. His rheumy eyes bored into Nicholas. “Before the end of this party, you will announce your betrothal to Miss Caldwell.”

Nicholas started. Every nerve in his body recoiled. Foolish, to react so. Wasn’t that the plan all along? The reason he had courted her in the first place had been to find a wife beyond reproach, a wife who would show the ton he had reformed.

Abigail’s face flashed in his mind. Her fiery blue eyes. Her head tilted back as she peered up at him. The intense need—the promise he’d made only yesterday—to kiss her once again. From the very beginning of their short-lived courtship until now, she had been the constant in his life, the catalyst for everything he had done, good and bad. He could not let her go. He knew that now. Understood it. She was everything to him.

“I cannot.”

Anger flushed Blackbourne’s pallid face with color. “You defy me?”

“I need more time. I need—” What? What did he need? To convince Abigail? He felt her teetering, her forgiveness almost within his reach.

“There is no more time. You will propose—”

“I cannot marry Miss Caldwell.”

Blackbourne clenched his gnarled hands into fists. Blue veins popped along the back of his paper thin skin. “You
will
marry her. This is not up for debate.”

Nicholas stood. The squalid air in the room closed in on him. He needed to get out, to feel the fresh summer breeze on his face. To escape his future and the earl’s building wrath.

“I will not,” he said. “I will marry when I am ready and I will marry a woman of my choosing.”

“You gave up that right when you killed a man. It is bad enough your mother saw fit to invite the Laythams into my home, but I will not have you mooning over Abigail Laytham like a lovesick calf. I will not allow you to soil this family’s reputation further. The reason Lord Selward has been so reticent in his attentions toward Rebecca is because of your past behavior. The man is averse to any type of scandal.”

“A perfect match for Miss Caldwell. Perhaps I should introduce the two.”

“Silence! Rebecca will have what she wants. Selward is a good match and I will see it happen. I will not have you behaving like the bastard you are.”

His words pummeled Nicholas, each one beating against his skin like actual blows. He had heard this speech before, too many times to count. He was worthless. He did not deserve the title. He was a scourge on his family’s honor and reputation. He had taken this abuse for years without giving any back, but today he’d had enough. He had his own money now, and while it did not compare to the earl’s substantial holdings, it would suffice. If need be, he could support his mother and sister, title or no. He did not need the Earl of Blackbourne’s largess any longer.