“Very funny.” She shook her head and moved away, a small smile finally forming on her lips.
“So, Abby,” he said, drawing out her name. It sounded like honey on his lips. “What has you out here trying to pull your dress off? Imagine my surprise when I stepped outside only to find the object of my thoughts clawing at her beautiful silk gown.”
“You were thinking about me?” Curse her voice for sounding so hopeful.
Rawlings sauntered to her side. “Yes, I was thinking you had disappeared suddenly and your father would have my head if you managed to vanish down a dimly lit hallway only to be seduced by a rake.”
“A rake like you?”
He looked away. “Yes, a rake like me.”
“We had a bit of a row today. My sister, Sebastian, and myself. I said some horrid things. I did not mean any of them, but I was hurtful. And now I feel awful, and it’s all this stupid dress's fault.”
“So you meant to punish your dress?”
“It was punishing me!” Abigail argued. “I could scarcely breathe. And it just reminded me…of the fight.”
“Well then, by all means remove it from your person at once.” he teased, or seemed to be teasing. “Very logical reasoning, Abby.”
“Thank you.” She pushed at his arm and put distance between them, not trusting herself to be so close. “Why does everyone treat me like a child?” The question was more direct than she would have liked, but it seemed that every time she spoke, people responded with a pat on her hand and a reference to her age and innocence.
Rawlings didn’t speak for a while. “Abby, you are a child.”
She froze. The dress hadn’t been worth it, nor had her defense of his character, not that it was for show. She had failed. Gathering her strength and hoping he wouldn’t turn her down, she grabbed him by the jacket and kissed him, suddenly realizing it was the second time in which she had forced herself upon Rawlings in the past week.
The minute her lips touched his, he pushed at her and cursed. “Abby, I swear sometimes…” Cursing again, he ran his fingers through his glossy black hair. “You want to know why everyone treats you like a child?”
She could already feel the tears pooling in her eyes.
“It is because you have no grasp on reality. You refuse to see people as people. You see everything as a chess game. Little pieces you can move however you want. Your only goal is to win the game. You tease, you flirt, you play—without a care in the world for whom you might hurt in the process. You want to stop being treated like a child? Stop acting like one.”
Swearing again, he scowled and stormed back into the house, leaving Abby outside in the cool night air. Tears rained down her face until her vision was blurry. The worst part was not that she had been lectured. No, the unbearable part was the sickening fear that Rawlings, the dark and cynical Rawlings, was right. And she didn’t deserve him.
Chapter Ten
Why is it that this author is constantly seeing Lord Rawlings storm off as if he’s being chased by the devil himself? Not that this author would completely discount that development. Alas, it seems the Earl of Rawlings finally has something to run from. His past perhaps? Or maybe he’s afraid of his future. This author waits with bated breath.
—Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers
Phillip nearly knocked over a vase as he stormed into the room where the men were discussing politics, women, and other earthly pleasures.
“Whiskey?” Sebastian held out a snifter.
Phillip threw back the entire contents.
“How is she?”
“Aggravating, irritating, pig-headed—beautiful to distraction.”
Sebastian looked away. “You do realize you’ve just described both Emma and Abigail—though the look in your eyes tells me it’s the youngest that has you so put out, which is a good thing considering I’ve hit you once before for kissing my wife.”
Phillip snorted. “Yes, and you nearly beat me to death, so I think we’re even. And of course, I was talking about Abigail. The girl could drive any sane man to drink…”
“Or perhaps distraction?” Sebastian added.
Phillip swallowed, feeling his body tighten as he answered hoarsely. “That as well.” How his friend was able to see beneath his calm demeanor was beyond him. Feeling caught, he dared to look Sebastian in the eyes. Amusement twinkled in the Angel Duke’s face as he walked to the sideboard and refilled both their glasses.
He had only visited her on the balcony to say thank you for standing up to that old bat, the dowager. Upon hearing her defense of him, he felt grateful and indebted. That is, until he saw her attacking her own dress and then lunging at him.
“Be careful, Phillip. She’s very young.”
“And immature.” Phillip grabbed his glass. “I would never touch her, Sebastian, you have my word.”
Sebastian was silent a moment. “It’s a little early to be making promises you might not be able to keep.” With a nod, Sebastian left Phillip to ponder his wise words.
****
That night, as Phillip slept alone in his room. A haunting figure of blue silk continued to intrude in his dreams, and then a woman so beautiful it hurt would crook her finger and smile at him. He would whisper words of devotion, love, protection. Anything to make sure she would stay with him forever. But she always faded back into the mist. He would wake up sweating, aroused, and irritated.
Promising his body rest, he would close his eyes only to be visited yet again by the same siren—Abigail. What was it about her that drew him so? She was all of those things he had said and more, yet he was inexplicably drawn to her. Waiting for just a glimpse of her smile, constantly entranced by her fluid movements. Unbearably uncomfortable because he was wound tight as a drum each time she was near. Even with his rejection, she continued to speak well of him, though he didn’t deserve it.
He rose from his bed with a curse just in time to see the sunrise. A vision that only a year ago would have been viewed upon returning from a gambling hell after another failed attempt to gain money instead of marrying before his birthday.
Pity that he just now noticed the beauty of the sky. Orange streaks burst through the horizon, announcing the day. He walked out the balcony of his room. He breathed in the morning air, and although still restless from his sleep, he found that he was able to smile a genuine smile.
****
Abigail woke up early. After her failed attempt to kiss Rawlings, she had tearfully taken to bed in hopes that it would in fact swallow her whole. What had possessed her to do such a rash thing? Desperation? Did she need his love and acceptance so bad she would force herself on him…twice?
As much as it hurt, she realized she needed to move on. It was not fair to Rawlings, and as the guilt from his words subsided, she came to the conclusion that he was right. It pained her to admit it, and she felt a fool. But she could not continue to control people around her as if they meant nothing. She resolved to apologize to Emma and offer to return the dresses before the ball at Almack’s tonight.
Closing her eyes, she prepared herself for battle and was rewarded with the most beautiful sunrise she had ever laid eyes on. It seemed to speak of new beginnings, something she thought Rawlings needed, but found she needed it more. How easy it was to find fault in others yet not see the trouble inside your own person. She thought she was his savior.
When he was, in fact, hers.
****
Abigail waited patiently for Emma at breakfast. Upon entering, her sister burst into tears and apologized…to her. Shocked, Abigail hugged Emma and waited for her to stop blubbering before she spoke.
Finally, Emma took a seat next to her but still grasped at her hands. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I despise fighting with you.”
Abigail felt tears sting her eyes. “Emma, it is I who should be sorry. You were right. You were all right.”
“All?” Emma looked up.
“Yes, you and Sebastian.” Rawlings as well, but she did not want to admit that they had been alone. Nor did she still desire to trap him into marriage. “I really shouldn’t have lied or deceived you. I love you, Emma, and it is also the reason I am going to pay a visit to Bond Street and notify Madame that I will not be needing the dresses after all.”
“Don’t.” Emma’s grip tightened. “I overreacted. You should keep the dresses, Abby. I just wanted you to apologize for being deceitful. I won’t tell Father. Just don’t let it happen again.”
Abby nodded and hugged her sister. Though her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were puffy, she was a beautiful sight.
Sebastian entered the room, took in the tears and smiles, and then promptly exited.
“Crying females make him nervous,” Emma commented. “It seems I’ve been doing a lot of that lately, the poor man.”
Sebastian walked back in and headed straight toward Emma. Without a word he bent down and kissed her forcefully on the lips. Abby was too shocked to look away. She watched the exchange with her mouth gaping open.
“I love you, Emma,” he kissed her again. “Forever and always, even when you get teary-eyed and emotional. Always you and me, my love.” He traced her chin with his large hand and walked away.
Emma looked at Abigail and blushed. “I’m so sorry. Normally, he isn’t that…”
“Scandalous?” Abigail lifted her eyebrow and smiled. “It seems he’s recovered from his aversion to crying women, dear sister.”
Emma blushed to the roots of her hair and changed the subject, but Abigail was still thinking about how Sebastian had kissed her sister. Could she be that blind? This whole time she had wanted something like Sebastian and Emma had. She thought that by kissing Rawlings it would happen. But the kisses she had given him paled in comparison. They were worthless next to what Sebastian and Emma had just shared. It made her wonder all the more how she was to find someone to love when her heart belonged to another person entirely.
****
Phillip knew the second she had stepped into the room. Not because some sort of heavenly being whispered into his ear, “She’s here,” but because men of all different shapes and sizes began crowding. And after seeing the list of available debutantes, he knew it had to be Abigail they were fawning over.
Just as he was getting ready to avert his eyes back to his dancing partner, the sea of admirers parted. He caught a glimpse of her and cursed.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Lady Rosalind, the Marquess of Whitmore’s betrothed, looked at him through sooty black lashes.
“I, er…”
“Rawlings, Rawlings, Rawlings.” Lady Rosalind shook her head. “You’d think a man with your reputation would at least have a way with words.”
He shot her a dirty look. In the one night since he’d known her, Lady Rosalind had not only stepped on his feet, but cursed—yes, cursed at her own betrothed for being such a swine He asked her to dance to protect the girl from scandal, but now he was having second thoughts. It made sense that this daring redhead would be one of Abigail’s best friends. Something he was not aware of until the blasted girl started listing every single one of Abby’s positive attributes. Suffice to say that was when Phillip felt the very strong urge to weep. So, he did not feel at all guilty for glaring at the insufferable woman, and was increasingly glad he would not be the one to marry her. It seemed dear Abigail had found a twin in mischief.