“What was that?” Ophelia asked.
Abigail shook her head, trying not to think about what they had agreed he would win if the rumor about them was this. She wasn’t sure she could keep the wickedness from her expression.
“Nothing,” she said. “And I’m not upset. Gilmore and I already discussed that this was a possibility. I assume he knows?” That he hadn’t come crowing to her the moment she arrived showed restraint.
Ophelia shrugged. “I don’t know. He never said anything. But we also didn’t get the paper. I wonder if Gardner hid it, as well.”
“Well, I will tell him,” Abigail said, and tried to think of the best way to reveal it. She had an idea. A very sinful idea. “We will be married soon, though. And when no child is produced in less than nine months, I suppose everyone will know the rumors weren’t true.”
Celeste sighed, as if pleased she hadn’t upset her friend. “Speaking of the wedding, are you excited? We are just days away.”
There was no mistaking the light of interest that brightened Ophelia’s gaze. Abigail would have to tread carefully in her answer if she wanted to continue to chip away at the young lady’s defenses.
“I will be glad to be done with the waiting. It’s only been a few weeks, but it has felt interminable. I am a little…nervous. The future still seems uncertain, I don’t know what my life will be like.”
Up above, Rhys waved to them and Pippa smiled. “I think they’re saying we should join them.”
Abigail nodded and followed as Pippa and Celeste started up the stone stairs that led up to the terrace on the second floor. Ophelia stayed behind the others and fell into step beside Abigail.
“Comfortable,” she said, staring straight ahead as they reached the top of the stairs.
Abigail stopped there and shook her head. “I’m sorry?”
Ophelia faced her. “You said you cannot picture your life. It will be comfortable. My brother will ensure it.”
“I’m sure you are right.”
Ophelia held her gaze a moment. “He is a good man. Don’t let him down,” she said softly, and then turned to join the others.
Abigail blinked at the edict. Don’t let him down? She didn’t intend to do so. She didn’t want to. But how to do that remained to be seen.
The group of friends stood in the foyer together hours later, servants rushing coats and gloves to them, carriages being brought around. It was a scene of laughter and fun, but Abigail felt very much on edge.
She knew what was about to happen. And she was practically jumping out of her skin in anticipation. Into the carriages the couples went, and as Ophelia went back into the house, Abigail and Nathan stood on the step, waving to their friends together.
“That was a lovely night,” she said with a contented smile.
“It was,” he agreed as they came back into the foyer. “Did you have a nice time?” he asked Ophelia.
She smiled. “It was lovely. I’ve always liked Leighton, the former Mrs. Montgomerys are both lovely and Mr. Gregory is fascinating. I enjoy all their company very much.”
“And you shall have a great deal of it, and I hope come to count us all as friends,” Abigail said softly.
Ophelia inclined her head. Her lips tightened a little, her hesitation plain. She sighed. “You know, I am tired. Perhaps I shall excuse myself and read for a while. I’m sure you two wouldn’t mind a little time alone.”
Abigail tried not to look at Nathan. Surely he would see her intentions in her eyes, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. “Goodnight, Ophelia,” she said.
Ophelia looked at her a long moment. “Goodnight, Abigail.” Then she kissed her brother’s cheek and left them.
Now they were alone in the foyer, and Abigail glanced up at him. “I do have something to speak to you about,” she said, trying not to bounce with nervous excitement.
His brow wrinkled. “Do you? Well, then that will give me an opportunity to show you something. Come.”
He took her arm and they moved up the hall together past parlors and other rooms. He led her into one and she looked around. She’d thought it was another parlor, but it wasn’t. It was a small study with tall, empty bookshelves and a cherrywood desk.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“I thought it should be your study, and had the desk brought in and the shelves emptied in anticipation. Does it suit you?”
She stared at him a moment, emotions welling in her chest. Then she walked away and truly looked at the room. It wasn’t large, but it was the perfect size for her. And the desk faced the window, which looked down over the gardens below. “I love it,” she breathed. “Thank you.”
The thanks seemed to make him uncomfortable, for he was shifting when she looked back at him. He cleared his throat. “We can speak about the decorations.”
She worried her lip a moment, then refocused and meandered around the room further, always heading toward the door. She stopped there and closed it. His eyes widened a fraction.
“What you have to say must be very serious,” he said.
She nodded. “It is. But first, what can you tell me about the desk?”
He looked confused as he glanced toward the escritoire. “It’s…wood? It’s been in the attic for ages. I think it might have belonged to my grandmother. She loved to write.”
“I see. And is it sturdy?”
He blinked. “Sturdy?”
“Yes.”
He moved to it and pressed down on the top. The wood didn’t tremble or shake. “It seems to be. Why? Do you intend to put something heavy on it?”
“Perhaps.” She was practically bouncing now. He was so flummoxed, and it was just too much fun to cause it. “Will you lean on it?”
“Lean on it,” he repeated. “Certainly.”
He cocked his hip onto the tabletop and held out his hands as if to say there.
She nodded slowly. “Stay there, please.”
She pivoted back to the door and turned the key. When she faced him again, his pupils had dilated and his gaze was much more focused. She drew in a shaky breath.
“I am going to say this once to you, Nathan.” She moved toward him. “Just once.”
He arched a brow. “Say whatever you would like to say.”
She crossed the rest of the distance to him. With him half-seated on the desk, they were now of equal height. She licked her lips as she leaned toward him.
“You.”
She brushed her lips to his and placed a hand on his chest before gliding it down. Together they watched her fingers slide lower and lower until she pressed her palm into his muscular thigh, then cupped it between his legs. She slid it across the fall front of his trousers and he sucked in a hard breath.
“Were.”
She unfastened one button, then another, and then dropped the fall front down. His cock was half-hard already and bounced free. She glanced down at him and shivered. It was a very nice cock, and it hardened further as she stared, curling toward his belly.
It was filthy to have him fully clothed, his jacket open, his cock naked before her. She traced a finger over the head of him, reveling in the silky skin there. It had been so long since she touched a man this way, and when his breath kept catching it drove her mad.