Sorrow and regret lingered in Abigail’s gaze as she regarded him. “We both know that that is not true.” Her jaw quivered, and she dropped her gaze, her lips pressing into a tight line. A moment passed as she fought to regain control of her emotions. Then her gaze found his yet again. “You’re lying to yourself, and you know it. You love her as I love you.” A sob escaped her throat, and she took a step back. “Don’t be a fool, Nathanial. It’ll only lead to regret. Believe me, I know it.” Then she pushed past him and slipped into the house, the sound of her footsteps soon swallowed up by the growing distance between them.
Nathanial hung his head, guilt over hurting Abigail’s feelings adding to the growing burden that lingered upon his heart. If only he knew what to do about it! The woman he loved cared for him only as a friend, and the woman who had, against all odds, discovered that she loved him after all no longer touched his heart.
Had the world gone mad?
Chapter Forty-Five
In the Library
Running as fast as her legs would carry her, Charlaine hastened along the corridor. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her heart ached with each breath she took. She pressed her lips into a tight line, fighting down the sobs that rose in her throat.
He had kissed her!
Nathanial had kissed Abigail!
The image she had glimpsed through a gap in the curtains had burned itself into Charlaine’s mind. No matter what she did she could not seem to shake it. It was there, taunting her, torturing her. Never would she forget the moment Daphne had asked her to check if it was raining, the moment she had glimpsed them together, the moment her heart had broken in two, another loss after so many, robbing her of the last bit of strength she had left.
Blinded by the tears in her eyes, Charlaine stumbled through the house without knowing where she was headed. Voices drifted to her ears then, and she dashed through the first door, desperate to escape prying eyes.
Fortunately, she found herself in the library, its calm silence promising a momentary reprieve from the world outside its doors.
Staggering to the armchairs situated in a small curve under the tall, arched window, Charlaine sank onto one with a sigh. She discarded her slippers, momentarily tempted to hurl them across the room, and then pulled up her legs, hugging her knees to her chest.
Rain now pelted the window behind her, the harsh sound of its downpour an odd echo of her inner turmoil. Closing her eyes, Charlaine sank deeper into herself, her head coming to rest against the chair’s soft upholstery.
And there she sat, her mind returning to the moment she had witnessed, the moment she could not forget for it proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that despite what might have sparked between Nathanial and her, he still loved his fiancée.
Or former fiancée. But for how much longer?
Who knew, perhaps even tonight they would announce their renewed engagement, happy and filled with joy as they looked into their future.
Charlaine thought she would be sick.
He is your friend, a painfully fair-minded voice reminded her. You ought to be happy for him.
Burying her face in her hands, Charlaine tried her best to ignore it, to not hear the echo of her promise; a promise she had given lightly, never considering how it might ruin her one day.
But that day had come and now—
Tensing, Charlaine sat up, her gaze snapping around to the door across from where she sat. Had there been footsteps echoing closer? Or had it merely been her imagination? The thought of someone stumbling upon her, here, in this moment when her heart lay shattered before her—
In shock, Charlaine stared as the handle was being pushed down. Then the door began to drift open. She heard the sound of skirts rustling and breathed a sigh of relief that at least it was not Nathanial who had found her.
In the next moment, Abigail stepped into the room.
Charlaine barely managed to stifle a groan as her soul cried out in pain. Still, she had to have made at least some sound for Abigail’s head suddenly snapped around, her eyes growing wide as they fell on her. “Oh.” The exclamation was soft, whispering of utter surprise.
Charlaine swallowed, unable to conjure a clear thought. All she knew was that she wanted Abigail to leave.
The library.
Markham Hall.
England.
“I’ll go,” Abigail said into the room, a mild echo of her voice drifting upward. “I’m sorry.” She turned toward the door, but then paused. For a moment, she remained still before her gaze moved back to settle on Charlaine, a slight frown coming to her face.
Charlaine tensed, willing the other woman to leave with every fiber of her being. She had won! She had reclaimed Nathanial’s heart! Was that not enough?
Unfortunately, it seemed it was not, for Abigail did not leave. Instead, she slowly made her way over to where Charlaine sat huddled in her armchair. “I’m sorry. I—” Her voice broke off as her eyes narrowed, sweeping over Charlaine’s face. “Are you all right?”
Swallowing, Charlaine moved to wipe the tears off her face. “I’m fine,” she told her with as much conviction as she could, which unfortunately was not a lot.
Inhaling a deep breath, Abigail moved to seat herself in the armchair to Charlaine’s right.
“Why are you here?” Charlaine snapped, instantly regretting the outburst. After all, truth be told, Abigail had done nothing wrong. She had merely fallen in love.
A shuddering sigh left the other woman’s lips before her hand rose to dab a handkerchief to her eyes; eyes that looked red and shimmered with tears.
Frowning, Charlaine shifted in her seat, her traitorous heart responding to the sight of someone in pain. “What happened?” she asked, confused by what she saw. “Why are you crying?”
A sad chuckle left Abigail’s lips. “I might ask you the same.”
Charlaine swallowed, uncertain about what was happening here. By all means, Abigail ought to be the happiest woman alive. Why wasn’t she?
For a long moment, the two women sat in silence, the only sound the drumming of the rain on the windowpanes behind them, a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. Then after a long sigh, Abigail lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes settling on Charlaine. “He doesn’t want me.”
Her words were no more than a whisper and, for a moment, Charlaine was not certain she had heard her correctly. In answer, her gaze narrowed as though it would help her remember, help her hear the words more clearly. What was Abigail saying? Was she saying that—?
Traitorous hope rose in Charlaine’s chest. “Who doesn’t want you?”
Abigail’s hands clenched around her handkerchief. “Do you truly not know?” she asked in return, the sadness that lingered in her eyes heartbreaking. She swallowed hard, and another tear snaked down her cheek. “I hurt him,” she whispered then. “I broke his heart. I was a fool to do so.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “I’d take it back if I could.”
Charlaine’s breath lodged in her throat as she stared at Abigail, not quite daring to believe. “He kissed you,” she whispered, and her words conjured the scene she had witnessed, sending a jolt of pain through her heart.
Abigail met her gaze. “He did not.”
“I saw you,” Charlaine insisted, clenching her hands as they began to tremble.