An Invitation to Scandal (28 page)

Abigail relaxed and returned Caelie’s smile. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

* * *

Nicholas searched the crowd frantically. He had tried to find Abigail, thinking the announcement would come later, after they were certain most guests had arrived.

How foolish of him. Frail and exhausted, his father would make the announcement early on, accept congratulations and then retire to his room, leaving Nicholas to face the devastation of decisions beyond his control.

Had she not received his note? He had gone to the designated meeting place, a private alcove off the balcony, and waited, but she had not shown. Had she changed her mind? Realized she could not forgive him after all? But no. She would have never have given herself to him with such passion had her heart not been fully engaged.

Again, he searched the room, looking for the pale blonde head and pretty face that had haunted his every moment.

But it was too late. Time had run out.

Lord Blackbourne motioned for the band to stop playing and the crowd quieted. “Ladies and gentlemen.” Many moved closer to hear what he said, his voice weakened from illness. Next to him Baron Caldwell stood, his round face filled with proud joy. “It gives me great pleasure to announce the betrothal between my son and Miss Eugenie Caldwell, eldest daughter of the Right Honorable Lord Caldwell and his wife, Lady Caldwell.

Nicholas heard the words like a barred door being slammed in front of him, the lock firmly in place.

It was over.

Done.

He closed his eyes and prayed for Abigail’s forgiveness. Or at the very least, to be given the opportunity to explain. He needed her to know he had not made the decision lightly. He had never intended to hurt her. His words fell short, but it was all he had left.

Abigail pushed through the crowd and made her way to the front as Lord Blackbourne said the words that turned her world upside down. The lords and ladies around her clapped. Their enthusiastic congratulations drowned out her own gasp as their impact sunk in.

There had to be a mistake. There
had
to be!

But as she stared in disbelief, Nicholas’s gaze found her, and she could see in his eyes the truth. Miss Caldwell stood on the dais with him. Her father escorted her over to Nicholas’s side, forcing him to look away from her and into the smiling visage of his newly betrothed.

Abigail’s knees faltered beneath her.

“Steady.” Benedict’s calm voice cut through the blood rushing in her ears. His firm hand held her elbow.

Abigail shook her head. It couldn’t be true. It was a dream. A horrible nightmare she would wake from at any moment. It had to be. Ben had met with Nicholas earlier. What other reason could he possibly have had to do so if not to offer for her?

“Ben…”

“Come with me.” He slid his arm around her waist and gently led her away, holding her up and propelling her forward. She took one last, fleeting glance back to the dais, to Nicholas. His eyes met hers and in that split second she saw an apology within their depths, but then the crowd of well-wishers converged and her love was swallowed up by the crowd, her heart trampled beneath their well shod feet.

Chapter Nineteen

“I do not understand.” Abigail sank into the chair in front of the fire of her bedchamber.

Benedict stoked the fire once, letting the flames leap to life and lick the stone hearth before he took the seat across from her.

“What is there to understand, Abby? Roxton has courted Miss Caldwell for several months now. Everyone expected a betrothal announcement.”

“But you met with him at the stables this afternoon. Did he say nothing to you?”

“We discussed horseflesh.”

“And he said nothing…else?” How could this be happening? Why was she not waking up from this horrific nightmare? Her mind whirled and a deep wound penetrated her chest until she ached all over.

Benedict leaned forward and rested his forearms against his knees. His expression registered concern as he searched her face, for what she did not know. Finally, he let out a long breath.

“Roxton indicated he thought you might have developed an affection for him. He expressed concern your feelings might be hurt when they made the announcement this evening. He asked that I stay close to you in the event you were upset and needed support. He swore me to secrecy, however, and I—”

“An affection…?” Abigail could not believe her ears. He thought she had developed
an affection
? She had given him her innocence. He had boldly stated his feelings for her. He had promised to make things right. He loved her. She knew he did.

Yet now, just days after sharing such intimacies, he told her brother he feared she had
grown an affection
?

Horror filled her. Had he simply used those words to trick her? To seduce her into his bed? Bile roiled in her stomach as the possibility grew like a weed in her mind. He had tricked her twice already. Once at Madame St. Augustine’s party, and again at the masquerade. Was it possible…

Horror twisted into humiliation. She had been duped. And by a master of seduction at that. Fooled and disgraced and left ruined in the process. What other explanation could there be for him to do such a thing? Had he offered to make things right only to keep her quiet while he secretly made plans to marry another?

“Abigail?”

Benedict had continued speaking but she had missed most of what he said. “I’m sorry, Ben. What did you say?”

“I said I told Roxton his concerns were unfounded, but…” He leaned closer and his hand touched hers where it rested limply in her lap. “Looking at you now I wonder if I spoke out of turn. Do you have feelings for the man, Abby?”

She shook her head, unable to form the words to lie. She took a deep breath and reached deep down inside of her to find the strength she needed. Only scraps remained. The past year had sorely depleted her reserves.

“I have become reacquainted with Lord Roxton over the past fortnight and realized what you told me is true. He is not the one to blame for Uncle Henry’s downfall.”

“I see,” her brother said. His hand squeezed hers.

“Perhaps in seeing him in this renewed light, my feelings changed and I saw the man I once knew.” Or thought she’d known. She blinked away tears, hating the break in her voice she could not prevent.

“Abby…”

The compassion in her brother’s voice nearly proved her undoing. She pulled her hand away and fisted it into her stomach, giving a quick shake of her head.

“Perhaps I only wished to think he shared the same sentiment. I was merely caught up in the moment though.”

Benedict’s expression turned hard. “Did he do anything to make you believe he shared these feelings? Did he lead you on?”

For a fleeting instant, anger surged in Abigail and she contemplated turning him in for the cad he was. But she could not. Her heart refused to hear the words spoken aloud.

“No,” she said. “He did not.”

She gazed at the fire. The bright flames danced and entwined around each other like lovers. Her bleak future stretched out before her. She could avoid it no longer.

She turned back to Benedict. “Please inform Lord Tarrington I would be most receptive to his proposal should he choose to make it.”

“Abby, it’s not necessary. We’ll find another way. Things are beginning to change. Perhaps in time—”

She shook her head. “There is not enough time,” she told him. Resolve strengthened her words. “You know that. And the time for frivolous notions has passed. We are on the brink of ruin, Ben, and I have the ability to prevent it and the willingness to do so. Speak to Lord Tarrington. Broker a marriage deal and let us be done with it.”

The words broke her heart and somewhere deep inside of her the last embers of hope were smothered beneath the loneliness of her future.

* * *

The expression on her face would haunt Nicholas the rest of his days. He could not shut it out, could not close his eyes and erase the look of hurt and horror rife in her blue eyes.

Because of him.

He had become the monster she always claimed him to be.

He leaned against the stone mantel in the earl’s study, his head resting in his hand. Heat from the fire beat against his legs but it barely registered. He had gone numb. Body, mind and soul.

How could it end this way? He had been desperate for a chance to find her, to explain. Though, God help him, what did he think an extra five minutes would do? What explanation could he give?

He had hoped to tell her he loved her, deeply and completely. That this love had forced him to shackle himself to Miss Caldwell for a lifetime, sacrificing their future, their happiness to keep her from being ruined.

He shook his head. Five minutes, hell, five days would not be long enough to explain to her, to make her understand. Knowing Abigail, she would tell him the threats mattered not, that they should throw caution to the wind and face the storm together.

The old Nicholas would have agreed with her. But he had reaped the consequences of such impetuous behavior and watched a man die for it. He could not be so cavalier a second time. Not when Abigail’s reputation, and her family’s, hung in the balance once again.

“Congratulations, my boy. You have managed to do something right,” Lord Blackbourne said as one of the footman wheeled his creaky chair into the study and stationed him in front of the fire next to Nicholas.

Nicholas reached for the brandy he’d set on the mantel and took another long pull on the liquor wishing the burn of the fiery liquid would clear his mind.

It didn’t.

The earl waved the footman away.

“I will hasten the marriage along,” Blackbourne said. “I do not want to waste any time. There is no telling how much I have left and I will have things settled before I go.”

Nicholas glared down at the earl. “You think I would renege on the engagement without you here?”

“I think you would do whatever suited you and care little over who it affected. Much as you always have. You have been a thorn in my side since your conception. I see no reason for you to change now.”

“Indeed,” Nicholas muttered. No doubt he could save a boatload of drowning children from the lake and still Blackbourne would see him as nothing more than a scourge on the Sheridan name. It had always been that way. It would never change.

The realization hit Nicholas square in the chest. As a young boy, he had tried to win his father’s favor and failed. By the time he became a callow youth, he’d become jaded by Lord Blackbourne’s disregard and went out of his way to live up to Blackbourne’s ill impression of him. He took pride in embarrassing the earl with his rakish behavior, retribution for each hurt he’d been caused. If he could not earn the man’s love or respect, then damn it, he would make his derision worthwhile. Then he’d met Abigail. Her quick acceptance of him broke down his barriers. She saw within him the good he’d gone to great lengths to bury. With her, he saw a different future and he realized how much he wanted it. How much he had longed for a life filled with love and laughter and acceptance.

When he’d thought she had rejected him, it solidified everything Blackbourne had ever said about him. He’d slipped off the edge and dropped so far into the dark abyss that a man died. Only the hope of reclaiming Abigail’s good opinion and, God willing, her forgiveness, kept him from ending up like the late Lord Glenmor. And suddenly his father’s opinion of him no longer mattered.

Only Abigail’s did.

He emptied the snifter of brandy and left it on the mantel, then turned and headed toward the door. He could not spend another minute in his father’s company.

“Where do you think you’re going,” Blackbourne barked.

“Wherever you’re not. My days as a bachelor may be coming to an end, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to make the most of the time that is left.”

The words the earl hurled at him were lost against the study door when he slammed it shut behind him. Nicholas strode to the steps and took them two at a time. His head pounded and his heart ached. He wanted to find his bed and forget this day had ever happened.

But he couldn’t. His fate was sealed.

And it was a miserable one.

* * *

“Dead?” Abigail pulled herself up from her bed into a sitting position. Her blonde hair tumbled down her back and over her shoulder. Everything hurt. “Lord Blackbourne? Are you certain?”

Her eyes burned, a result of crying herself to sleep last night. Sleeping being a gross exaggeration. Most of the night had been spent tossing and turning as she tried to make sense of what had transpired. How could she have been so stupid to fall, once again, for a jade like Nicholas Sheridan?

No answers came. Her foolish heart remained as much a mystery to her this morning as it had the night before.

“Yes, miss. Downstairs is all a buzz with it. They found him in his study. Footman thought he was asleep, but when he tried to wake him he was stiff as a poker.”

Abigail waved off Muri’s detailed description. She did not require a fully painted picture.

She tossed the blankets aside with a sweeping gesture and climbed out of bed. Her muscles protested. How strange that heartbreak could make you feel pain all over. As if it didn’t just break your heart, but broke you everywhere.

“Does Mother know? And Benedict?”

“Can’t say. Didn’t ask.” Muri gave an inconsequential shrug and stared at her reflection in the oval mirror above the vanity.

Abigail had had enough of Muri’s insolent attitude and lacked the patience this morning to deal with it. “Then I suggest, Muri, that you do ask. They should be informed post haste. See to it now.”

Muri huffed and spun around from the mirror. “Miss Caldwell was right about you. You may be a lady but you ain’t proper
or
decent.”

Ice trickled through Abigail’s veins. “I beg your pardon?”

Muri froze, as if realizing her words. She pursed her lips together.

“What did you mean by that? When would you have spoken to Miss Caldwell?”

Muri backed up. “I didn’t mean nothin’. Just that—”