Behind the Mask (74 page)

When Elsa returned to the kitchen and made herself busy, Cameron took it as his cue to go up to Abbi’s room. It felt strange to be using the stairs, as opposed to climbing through the window. But considering Georg’s final comment, he wondered if he’d be better off to just spend the night on Georg’s sofa. He took a deep breath and resigned himself to a humble apology before he turned the knob and quietly entered the room. A different kind of emotion crept over him. The things lying about spoke of wedding preparations. And seeing his bride sleeping serenely in a chair, wearing elaborate petticoats and looking exhausted, he could picture her day’s events clearly. But the anticipation of a wedding had become tainted with the complexity of all else that surrounded it, and he felt sick at heart. He would have wished for Abbi to be caught up in carefree days and perfect happiness. Instead he had lured her into a situation that caused her little but grief. Considering how upset she had been in the kitchen, a hard knot gathered in his chest. How could he not wonder if he’d done right by her, making such decisions on her behalf when she had no knowledge of the circumstances at all? But it was too late now to change course. He had pushed events into motion that would work up momentum until they brought to pass his dream—or saw him undone. Either way, he prayed that Abbi could live with his decisions.

Cameron sat close to Abbi and watched her sleeping while he attempted to make sense of the turmoil inside of him. He remained sitting quietly as Elsa returned to the room, setting a tray of food on the bureau. She seemed to accept his presence there as normal, which prompted him to follow her example.

“Hello, Elsa,” he whispered and put his finger to his lips to indicate they be quiet and let Abbi sleep.

“I was just going to straighten up some so Miss Abbi could . . . well . . . so the two of you could . . . retire.” She gathered up the wedding veils, hanging them on a rack near the wardrobe. Cameron thought of Georg, and how ironic that after all these years they would end up marrying at the same time. Cameron liked Elsa, and he could tell from what little he knew of her that she was as good a wife to Georg as she was a friend to Abbi.

Feeling a little mischievous, he said, “You do like me, don’t you, Elsa? Come on, admit it.”

“Yes, sir, I do,” she said timidly.

“And is our secret still safe?”

She smiled at his teasing. “I’ve not told a soul.”

“I certainly like you, too,” he said and Elsa smiled. “You take very good care of Abbi.”

“Miss Abbi is a good lady. She’s always done well by me. I would do anything for her.”

“You and I have very much in common, then.”

“Yes, sir, I suppose we do.” Elsa picked up the elaborate dress and hung it carefully.

“How does she look in it?” Cameron asked.

“Oh, sir,” she smiled, “Miss Abbi will make the most beautiful bride.”

“I’ve no doubt of that.” He looked lovingly at Abbi where she slept.

When Elsa had the room straightened, she stood with her hands on her hips, looking at Abbi. “I’m amazed she’s still asleep,” she said, “but then she did have quite a day. Would you be embarrassed, sir, if I asked you to help me get her out of those petticoats and put her to bed?”

“No,” he chuckled softly, “I wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“I forget sometimes that you’re her husband already.”

“Yes, I certainly am,” he said. Recalling Abbi’s comment in the kitchen, he felt pained to think how it was difficult for him and Abbi to remember that fact at times. Lifting Abbi up beneath her arms, she drooped her head against his shoulder but remained asleep. Elsa untied the petticoats and they fell to the floor, after which Cameron pulled Abbi up into his arms and laid her on the bed that Elsa had turned down. He smiled to see how she snuggled into the bed without waking, and he kissed her brow as he covered her.

Elsa hung the petticoats with the dress and asked, “Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes, I think so. Thank you, Elsa.”

She smiled at him and left the room

Chapter Twenty-One

DEVOTION

A
bbi woke to find the room dimly lit, wondering how she’d gotten to her bed. Immediately, she saw Cameron’s profile outlined in the faint glow of a candle left burning on the bedside table. He was leaning against the headboard, still fully dressed, one booted foot hanging casually over the side of the bed.

When Cameron realized Abbi was awake, his heart quickened with dread. That slap she’d given him had stung deeply, and the pain had been fueled by Georg’s declaration that he’d deserved it. He breathed relief when she moved closer to him and settled her head in his lap.

“Hello at last,” he said.

“When did you come up?”

“A couple of hours ago. Elsa and I had a nice little talk while she cleaned up the room.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“It was apparent that you needed your sleep.” He took a deep breath and ventured to take on the results of their last encounter. “And perhaps I was hoping to avoid another of those slaps.”

Abbi sighed and wrapped her arms around him. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Georg said I deserved it. I’m sure he’s right; he’s always right.”

“But I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

“I was angry too, Abbi. The difference is that what you said was true, and what I said was cruel. Sometimes I don’t think I’m a very nice man, and I wonder what you did to deserve ending up with me this way. What I’ve done to your life is deplorable, Abbi. I can only hope and pray that when this is over, it will be worth it from your perspective.”

“Just stay alive, Cameron. I need you to live.”

Cameron eased her to sit beside him, wrapping her fully in his arms, wishing he could promise her that he would. At the risk of spoiling the mood between them, he had to ask, “Abbi . . . what happened this evening . . . that got you so upset? What did he say?”

Abbi wasn’t certain how to answer that question, so she turned it back on him. “Why didn’t you tell me the two of you had spoken?”

She felt his heart quicken before he eased back to look at her, saying firmly but without anger, “I felt it was in your best interest to remain ignorant. I’m wondering why the captain deemed it necessary for you to know.”

“Perhaps he felt it was in my best interest to be aware of just how precarious a game my husband is playing.”

Cameron swallowed carefully and reminded himself to control his temper. Anger had already gotten him slapped once today. He couldn’t deny that this was difficult for Abbi—and for Lance. He just didn’t know what to do about it, especially when the situation became steadily more complicated by the hour. “What else did he tell you?” Cameron asked. “I need to know,” he insisted when she hesitated.

Abbi sighed and looked away. “He told me there was no need for me to go on pretending . . . about the time I was spending with you . . . and about my feelings for him. I told him that in regard to my feelings, I was not pretending.”

Cameron suppressed his temptation to jealousy and asked, “And how do you feel for him, Abbi?”

She turned to meet his eyes. “Are you worried?”

“Maybe.”

“You think that I would be anything but loyal to you? Do you have cause to question my love for you?”

“No. But I have cause to believe that, of the two of us, he may be the better man.”

“This is not a competition, Cameron. I love
you
. I care for Lance, I admire and respect him, and I enjoy his company. He’s been a good friend to me. His loyalty and devotion to me are beyond belief, all things considered. I don’t have to pretend to like him for the sake of pulling off this grand charade of yours.”

“And if you did . . . have to pretend?”

“I would have to take the art of deception to a whole new level. But it’s good I don’t have to; I don’t think I’m very good at it.” She sighed loudly and added, “You should know that he also made it clear he would do anything in his power to protect me, but he could make no such promise for you.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to,” Cameron said. “But I
am
deeply grateful that he cares for you enough to see you through this. And believe it or not, I
do
regret the position this has put him in. If he does come to harm over this, I too would have trouble living with that. He’s a good man, Abbi. If he weren’t, I can assure you I would not be entrusting you to his care.”

Abbi pondered his words before saying, “You know him well.”

“Yes, I do.” He sighed deeply. “You and I are a part of the same social circles, Abbi. But I left society before you came into it. I’d like to think that means our paths would have crossed one way or another, no matter how fate twisted our lives. But at times our connections only leave me terrified.”

He met her eyes with an intensity that made her realize a new level of the fears he’d struggled with. She wanted to ask more questions, but she felt certain he either wouldn’t answer them, or if he did, she might find the answers disturbing. So, she let the subject drop. Instead she leaned against his chest and kissed him in a way she hoped would eliminate whatever residue of anger or tension might be remaining between them. When passion crept into it, he eased her fully into his arms, then muttered close to her face, “Is that how you kissed the captain?”

“Not even close,” she said and kissed him again.

“How
did
you kiss him?” he asked facetiously.

She demonstrated an imitation of the meek kiss she’d given Lance in the carriage, which was barely more affectionate than how a woman might kiss her brother.

“Oh, is
that
all?” Cameron said and laughed before he kissed her again, the way a husband should kiss his wife. And she was, after all,
his
wife.

While unbuttoning his shirt, a letter he’d tucked inside earlier became visible and the mood changed abruptly. She looked at him in question and he simply said, “It’s for you.”

“What is it?” she asked, sitting up as she took it.

“Security,” he replied. “Just in case.”

“What do you mean?” she asked warily.

“So that my child will know who its father was,” he paused and sighed, “and be entitled to what is mine.” Abbi looked worried and he continued, “Abbi, I don’t want to say this, but I . . .” He looked away to hide his emotion. “If . . . just
if
I don’t make it, do not . . .” He looked directly at her, perhaps more soberly than he ever had. “Do not show that letter to anyone . . . except the captain.”

Abbi felt as startled by the precaution as she was by the evidence that, in spite of their current differences, Cameron considered Lance, at some level, an ally.

“Georg has a copy of it, as well,” he went on. “No one but him and Lance are to know who fathered your child. Together they will look out for both of you. They will know what to do. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Abbi nodded but said nothing. She recalled Georg telling her that Cameron was struggling with his own doubts and fears. He didn’t need her contributing to them any further. And they’d already had far too much drama for one day.

“There will be no need for you to ever open it. I’ll be there. It’s just a precaution.”

Abbi didn’t question him. She knew what he meant and had no desire to talk about the circumstances anymore. She went to her bureau and opened the drawer, pulling her nightclothes aside. Carefully she placed the sealed letter with the two packets of documents from her father, then she pushed her fearful thoughts to the back of her mind.

“The gown is beautiful,” Cameron said as she closed the drawer.

“You really like it?” she asked, appreciating the change of subject.

“I can hardly wait to see you in it.”

“But I just can’t decide on a veil. I tried for hours. Maybe you could help me,” she said, lighting a lamp so they could see better.

“I’d love to.” He smiled and pulled off his boots to make himself more comfortable.

“You don’t think it’s bad luck, do you?”

“Of course not,” he said. “I’m not superstitious. Besides, we’re already married. This is just a formality.”

“True,” she said, pulling a veil down from the rack and placing it on her head. Turning elaborately, she looked at herself in the mirror and said, “How about this one?”