She bent her head, her breath labored as she tried so hard not to go back to that night. “I ran from the house. I ran and screamed and cried all the way to the healer’s cottage. Two miles through the woods without a coat, only in my slippers. I must have looked a fright when I got there.”
“What did she do?”
“Put me on her horse and we rode back together. I had such high hopes that she could save the day. But when she looked at Ella, she could see it was too late. But she gave my sister comfort and stayed with her until the end.”
Abigail felt the tears streaming down her face as she spoke. Told this story she had kept silent for years.
Nathan gently wiped some of those tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “You did everything you could.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But my parents hadn’t. Those doctors hadn’t. I became obsessed with the healer. Her name was Francine Boyd. I was deep in grief, furious that no one had listened to me. And furious that my parents seemed to get over what had happened fairly quickly, even as I drowned in it. Francie took pity on me, I suppose. She knew if I had something to study, I would go less mad in my grief. She taught me.”
“What did the second son of an earl and his flighty, silly wife think of that?” he asked, and he sounded impressed, which was more important to her than it should have been.
“They were livid, of course,” Abigail said, and smiled for the first time since beginning this story. “But something had broken between us the night my sister drew her last breath. And I didn’t give a damn if they were angry. If they forbade me, I snuck out. If they punished me, I took it with a smile. Eventually they gave up.”
“You are a stubborn thing,” he said softly.
“Yes.” She shifted a little. “Erasmus hated my interest as much as they did. He used to rail at me, threaten to burn all my books to make me respectable. He wouldn’t let me go to Francie’s funeral when she died a year after we married.” She lifted her chin. “When he died, I immediately tore out the garden and replaced it with herbs…to spite him. But I suppose you also wouldn’t want your duchess to do something so…common.”
His brow wrinkled, and he looked confused by her statement. “Why would I stop you?” She blinked, and he continued, “I think it’s healthy to have a passion. Especially one that could be of great help to others. I encourage you to continue your study. There are experts to consult—we can find them. You will have your own private study at my home here in London. We can transform it into a library with space for experimentation if you’d like. There is plenty of room in my garden here to plant whatever you like. And there is a greenhouse at my estate in Cornwall. It is yours, as well. Grow anything you would find useful.”
She stared at him, her heart rate increasing with every effortless support of her dreams. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted into him for a kiss.
He was still for a moment, as if the action shocked him. But then he angled her across his lap so he could deepen the kiss. She relaxed against him, the pain of her confession melting away at his touch.
Eventually, he pulled back a little, and she stared up into his eyes. She shook her head. “You are very confusing.”
He burst out a laugh. “Am I?”
She nodded as she tugged from his arms and righted herself on the settee once more. “But I appreciate the support. I don’t fully trust it…but I appreciate it.”
“Good. I like keeping you on your toes,” he said.
“I’d wager you do,” she said with her own laugh.
“Oh, a wager! What do you have in mind?”
She rolled her eyes, the tension and connection of the last few moments tempered now. She thought perhaps he did that on purpose, for both their comfort. “You are a cad, Your Grace.”
“Proudly so.”
“But do you think it’s wise to make these bets? They tend to lead us into temptation.”
He tilted his head. “Well, we are to be married in just a little more than a week, once the third set of banns are read on Sunday. So temptation is on the table, as far as I’m concerned, as long as you agree.”
She nodded slowly. “I…do.” When his eyes lit up, she got to her feet and moved away from him. Mostly so that she didn’t do something too foolish. “And I would wager that there will be some nasty blind item about us before our wedding, probably the morning of.”
He shook his head. “Well, that is no wager. I’ve done my best to make sure a few blind items appear about us.”
“No, those are nice things. That we’re truly in…” She cleared her throat. “…in love. I’m talking about something cruel. Something horrible.”
His face twisted. “Like what? You must have a little more specificity, Abigail.”
She glared at him playfully. “Someone will say that I have a secret fortune and you are angling for it.”
“Interesting.” He stroked his fingers over his chin. “Do you have a secret fortune I should be angling for?”
“No.” She smiled. “Nothing to my name, I’m afraid, except for a pile of dusty books and a few pretty gowns.”
“I’ve been known to put a high value on a pretty gown,” he said. “Very well. Then I think the blind item will contain a strong implication that I have gotten you with child.”
She froze and stared at him. A child. With him. He would want children, of course. Heirs and spares were required for a man of his station.
What kind of father would he be? Harsh like her own? Distant like so many? Or would he be kind and loving and unfashionably involved in the raising of his sons and daughters?
“Abigail?” he said, tilting his head. “Are you well?”
“Yes.” She shook her thoughts away. “I was just thinking what a good guess that is. Better than mine, considering the way we were caught together and your reminder that we’ve been spreading the word that we are desperately in love.”
He got to his feet and smoothed his jacket. “Yes. That seems to be taking, too. A few women positively cooed with congratulations when I was at Mattigan’s Bookshop the other day.”
She smiled, because that was the bookshop below Lady Lena’s Salon. That he had returned there, that it was a place she could return to even after she wed because he supported her ability to do so, was very exciting.
“Then is it a wager?” she asked.
“We have not determined what we are wagering for,” he said. “You have now revealed you have no massive fortune, so I think we should not bet with money.”
She let her gaze move over him. He did cut a fine figure—he always had. And if he had admitted out loud that he’d always wanted her, she could admit to herself that those desires had always been returned. Even more so now that she knew the warmth of his touch, the ease with which he could make her come undone.
She wanted to do the same to him. She wanted to feel him squirm for her. Cry out for her. Shake for her.
“I agree.” She stepped closer. “If you win, I will give you a kiss.”
He stared at her a moment, his expression going just a fraction wild as he realized what she was saying. “A kiss like…”