The Secret Desires of a Governess (29 page)

“I regret missing the wedding more than anything.”

Abby looked down at her plate of food. She’d barely touched it. Her appetite just wasn’t what it normally was.

It was all the melancholy. She must breathe deep and liven up. She must be strong. She picked up her fork again and ate another sliver of meat.

“It was a small ceremony. Grace didn’t want an elaborate wedding since this was her second. They honey-mooned in Bath for three weeks, then stayed here for a few

weeks while they found a town house in London. She’ll be so happy to see you! She was so worried when you left. We both were.”

“I can’t apologize enough for leaving so hastily. I just felt like I needed a change. You were finally happy to have your husband home. I could see that Grace was falling for Mr. Lioni. Dante. Seems so strange to call him Dante when I haven’t known him all that long.”

“They are very much in love.”

“And you?”

“And me, too.” Emma’s smile brightened her whole face. “Our old nemesis, Waverly, is dead.”

Abby dropped her fork and grasped her sister’s hands in shock. “What do you mean he’s dead!”

Waverly had been a bane to them. He had tried to blackmail Emma into becoming his lover by threatening to reveal her talent for painting erotic nudes of women to polite society.

“It was a terrible time. He was trying to get back at Richard for a slight between them years ago. It never had anything to do with us.”

“It’s shocking.”

“Yes, it is. So . . . London?”

“I’d be happy to travel to London with you and Richard. I need something to lift my spirits.”

“There are a number of engagements I would like for you to attend with us.”

At her skeptical look, Emma clarified, “I promise not to match make. Not after you’ve admitted to falling in love with someone else. Maybe in time we’ll find you a husband, but for now . . . we must socialize with Richard taking his seat in politics. And I’ll not leave you at home alone.”

“I’d be happy to play the dignitary with you.”

“Then it’s settled.” Emma hugged her. “I’m so happy you’re home. I have missed you, too.”

The dragon turned his back on the people who were now his. His wings spread wide and his magic strong, he opened the gates of every door and bid his people to take what they wanted as he descended into the caverns beneath the palace.

—The Dragon of Brahmors

Emma had promised her that tonight was the last ball they were expected to attend. Abby couldn’t be happier with the announcement that they’d be going back to the country for the Christmas season.

As the weeks had unfolded, she grew more aware of her body, of the life growing within her. There was no denying the truth. By some miracle, her babe lived. Though her sister Grace had commented on her weight gain—

it

seemed she was fattening out in the middle and in her breasts— neither of her sisters had asked her the obvious question. Abby suspected they knew but were waiting for her to confirm that fact.

She hadn’t been sick since the train ride to London two weeks before. And couldn’t be more thankful for that small blessing. She was eating again, and sleeping more than ever. She often fell asleep in the afternoons reading a book, only to be awoken by her sister with a questioning gaze.

Soon. She wasn’t ready to reveal that secret yet. She was only two months along. Another month and she’d be sure the baby was healthy. That was if she could hide her state for that long. Besides, Elliott deserved to know first.

But how? The roads were freezing over; travel was dangerous.

She’d had to rely upon the older- style dresses with the high empire waist to hide her slightly distended belly, since wearing a corset pained her too much. Her modiste had at least modernized the style. Had told her it would keep her secrets for a few more months.

Abby had been shocked that the woman had guessed so accurately at her condition. It shouldn’t surprise her.

This particular modiste had been dressing and fitting her for new styles for three years. The measurements didn’t lie, Abby supposed.

Mr. Harnett, a widowed baron, nodded to her from across the room. He’d been to every ball and soiree she and her sisters attended. Had asked her to dance at every event.

She’d given him a few; she didn’t want to be rude and refuse him every dance when her card remained empty most nights.

As he headed toward her, she caught movement at the entrance into the ballroom. More servants than usual milled about. A few gentlemen headed toward the entrance to see if they could be of ser vice. Richard left Emma’s side to lend his assistance. There was a commotion of some sort— it sounded like voices raised in anger and refusing someone entrance. Everyone turned to see what the ruckus was about, including Mr. Harnett.

Abby edged around the ballroom, hoping to shift herself out of his sight. She didn’t want to dance with anyone. She wanted to go home, share the holidays with her sisters and their husbands, and when that was done, she’d send a servant to Brendall Castle with the news to Elliott, because she didn’t think she could face him again, and then she’d tell her family about the baby. There would be no more balls for her to attend, no more gentlemen to dance with whom she didn’t wish to dance with.

Besides, she needed to rest her feet. She couldn’t stand for long periods of time anymore. She swore her feet swelled inside her sweaty slippers.

“Abigail,” someone shouted.

Elliott?

She paused in her attempted escape and looked around the ballroom, not sure what direction the familiar voice had come from, thinking her fanciful imagination was getting the better of her. She

swallowed back a lump of anticipation. Confusion.

What did it mean that Elliott was here? That he was really here.

The room around her went deathly silent and focused on the entrance where the voice had bellowed out. She stepped forward, daring to hope her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. Her face was damp when he came into view at the top of the stairs that led to the entrance.

Elliott.

An enclave of gentlemen surrounded him, including her brother- in- law Richard. Elliott shook off someone’s hold on his sleeve and took the stairs practically at a run. She wanted to run toward him but was frozen to the spot. Her nerves were rampant and she thought maybe she’d throw up. And she’d been doing so well in keeping her food down.

Words almost seemed impossible.

Were impossible.

Her bottom lip was trembling, and she knew she’d sob if she tried to speak.

Seemed Elliott didn’t care that she remained silent. He approached her, everyone in the ballroom watching the most exciting gossip of the season unfold.

She didn’t care.

Elliott had realized his folly the day Abigail had left him in the drive without looking back. Had ached for her for weeks on end, hoping his love would dim over the days. It hadn’t.

He had missed Abigail every night they were apart.

Every day he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her walking the grounds.

“Abigail.” The words were hoarse.

Elliott looked down at her swimming green eyes. They spilled over as he studied her expression. He wiped the tears from her cheek, uncaring that everyone in the ballroom watched them with rapt curiosity. That they witnessed their reunion moment- by- moment when this was a private affair between him and Abigail.

Leaning in close, he kissed her tear- streaked face.

“Don’t cry.” He’d never been able to handle a woman crying.

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. He clasped her hands between his because he couldn’t not touch her. They’d been apart for less than three weeks but it felt like an eternity of loneliness.

“Why are you here, Elliott?”

“How could I not come? You mean everything to me. I couldn’t stand for you to leave. I was an ass when you left.

I wasn’t thinking and for that, I will apologize for a thousand lifetimes.”

Those words were torn from deepest recesses of his heart; he’d been unable to stop them. He hadn’t wanted to say so much in front of an audience.

He took one great huff of air and looked at the crowd around them. He felt decidedly undressed for this ball.

Guests crowded in closer, wanting to hear the exchange between them. Many stood mouths agape.

He didn’t recognize any of the faces around them—

not that he would have any reason to know these people.

He’d never been part of their world. Part of their system.

He never wanted to be. But he would do that and more for Abigail.

He couldn’t let his ner vous ness distract him from his purpose. He tore his gaze away from the party and back to Abigail. She seemed too stunned to say more, or perhaps she hadn’t wanted his presence to night.

During two solid days on a train to Matlock, a carriage ride with his son to the Asbury country home, and then another trip back to the rail so he could make his way to London in the hope of finding

her, he hadn’t once stopped to think whether she would welcome him back into her life.

Would she forgive him?

They hadn’t parted on good terms.

“What problem do you refer to?”

“Martha and her aunt were sent to prison for the murder of my wife and their joint attempt to harm you.” He ran the tips of his fingers down the side of her face. “I’d never have forgiven myself if I had lost you. We’ve already lost too much.” He wouldn’t damn her and mention the baby.

“There is nothing lost,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and rested the side of her face against his. “I’m missed you so much. I was going to send someone with a message that all is not lost.”

How was it possible that life still grew within her? He’d been the one to clean up all the blood. There had been so much blood. One of his hands held the back of her head lightly. He didn’t want her to move away from him. Ever.

“I never meant to cause you so much distress. I’ll explain everything when we’re alone. My reason for coming is twofold.”

Going down on one knee in front of her, he took a fortifying breath and let it out easily. Tongue- twisted, he lightly held her hips and pressed his forehead to her stomach. His baby still grew in her belly.

The thought made him light- headed. Excitement made him want to shout out in joy. Trepidation made him want to sweep Abigail off her feet and take her where there was less noise.

He felt the slight swell beneath and wanted to press kisses there, press his hands over the distension and feel the new life beneath his hands. But doing so would be too much of a declaration and claim over her. He’d not give cause for the gossips to name her a harlot.

“Abigail,” he whispered, then took her hands in his.

When he looked up to her, tears continued to trail down her cheek in silent surrender to the moment.

She raised her hands and ran her fingers over the side of his face with a gentleness that stole his breath and ability to speak. He loosened his hold to grasp her wrists. She was so delicate. Fragile.

How could she survive having his child? His wife hadn’t, and when Madeline’s broken body had finally healed from childbearing, her mind had been lost to great sorrow and unaccountable madness. He wondered how susceptible his wife had been to the sickness plaguing her mind, how Martha had harnessed that weakness to make the condition worse.

But his sweet Abigail . . . her eyes still watered, her nose had reddened. She dropped her hands to his shoulders and lowered herself awkwardly to the marble floor with the heavy pleats of her skirt in her way.

There was a collective gasp from the audience around them.

“Don’t lower yourself to me.”

“We are equal in all things, Elliott. Equal in standing, equal in the power of our minds and the power of our hearts. Equal in everything that can bring one person to see their own greatness through the eyes of the one they love.”

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. Her declaration made him want to crush her to him. To kiss her and claim her as his own woman for the rest of the world to witness.

Not yet.

But the knowledge that she still loved him filled his heart and eased the turmoil that had set in over the weeks they’d been apart.

Releasing her wrists, he cupped her pixie face between his massive hands. “From the very moment you revealed your desire to help Jacob, no matter the challenge that stood in your way and even with the impossibility of the circumstance, I fell in love with you.”

Whispers grew in volume around them. He ignored them as he brushed the wetness away

from her cheeks again. It was endearing that the tears did not cease to fall.

“I’m a brute in the worst way. I’m unworthy—”

“Never,” she declared in a strong voice.

Before he could think better of what he was doing, he threaded his fingers through the fancy updo she’d twisted her hair in and pulled her close to his mouth. Close enough their lips fl eetingly touched.

There were gasps of surprise at this scandalous display. At his daring actions in front of so many witnesses.

“Make me a whole man. Marry me, Abigail Hallaway, for I want nothing more than to call you wife.”

“It’s not me that makes you a whole man, but you who makes me whole in heart and soul.”

He half expected her to refuse him, despite the scandal she’d stir when she had his babe, unless she planned to leave for the Continent. No, she wasn’t running from him.

He’d follow her. He wasn’t letting her go again.

He waited for the words that would bind them together forever in this life. Her hands trembled against his face for long moments.

“Say something. Tell me yes,” he said.

His voice choked up. She

couldn’t refuse him. He

wouldn’t accept any answer but an affirmative, resounding yes. Couldn’t even bear to think she’d refuse him with a room full of her friends and acquaintances watching on avidly.

“Under one condition will I agree to be your wife.”

“Anything. God, Abigail, anything.” He kissed her forehead, afraid to see what expression reflected in her green eyes. “Anything. You need but ask and I’d search for Atlantis herself if you’ll come home to me. To Jacob.”

“I want nothing more than to be a mother to your son.

He’s made my heart soar with so many feelings these past months.”

She hugged him close then. Her mouth fanning a hot breath into his ear as she whispered, “Procure a special license and take me away from this place. Away from the noise, the stench of the city, this dark world I never wanted to be a part of. Take me back to the sea where the water is a constant soothing din, where the cold air robs me of breath one moment only to embrace me in her strong arms the next. Take me where the birds never stop calling above. Take me where we can be together. Take me home, Elliott.”

He’d already planned exactly that. A special license would be procured to night now that she’d demanded it of him.

He pulled them both to their feet and tucked her arm in his. Abigail’s smile was enough to brighten the darkest nights. He reciprocated the gesture, not feeling at all awkward by something so foreign to him. Nothing could make him a happier man than the moment they shared now.

He let her strength hold him upright and proud as she walked across the ballroom floor with his arm through hers. She approached her brother- in- law. Come to think of it, the younger Asbury looked a lot like the elder he’d known.

“Richard, I require your assistance. It is of utmost importance that we bid our adieus for the evening.”

The brother- in- law smiled down on Abigail. It was not a smile of mirth; more likely it sprang from his wicked appreciation that Elliott’s little woman was a spitfire to deal with. And when she demanded something, people acted quickly. Another woman came up behind them, her sister perhaps. She was taller and fairer than his Abigail but had the same face shape and mossy green eyes.

Asbury snapped his fingers and held his hand out for his wife to take. Footmen came forward with the women’s cloaks and Asbury’s coat. Whispers grew into outright tittering as they left the