The Devil's Love (53 page)

just as puzzled.

“Oh, no, my lord, I didn’t make it. Cook made the gown.” Abbey gasped through

her laughter.

The image of Cook making the gown startled him. “ Cook?”

“Oh, Lord Darfield.” Virginia squealed, “You did not honestly think Abbey could

sew a straight seam even if her very life depended upon it, did you?” The three

young women broke into another gale of hysterical laughter.

“Apparently I was mistaken,” he said very gallantly, and signaled for Anderson

to pour him a whiskey. He hoped like hell Anderson had enough sense to make it a

double.

“Aunt Nan, who is minding the farm while you are away?” Abbey asked when her

laughter had subsided.

“Mr. Ramsey,” Aunt Nan replied carelessly, and shifted her gaze to the windows.

“Mr. Ramsey? Don’t tell me he has renewed his courtship?”

“Renewed it? Why, he’s all but moved in!” Virginia exclaimed. Abbey’s eyes

sparkled brilliantly as she turned to her aunt, who, much to Michael’s surprise,

appeared to be blushing. He would have guessed little could bother that woman.

“Indeed? Why, Aunt Nan, I thought—”

“Whatever you thought, girl, need not be repeated here. Mr. Ramsey is a perfect

gentleman, and he very kindly agreed to look after the farm, nothing more,”

Aunt

Nan insisted, then glared at Virginia.

“But what of Mr. Douglas?” Abbey asked.

Virginia giggled gleefully. “Yes, Mama, what about Mr. Douglas?”

Michael glanced at Sam, who looked as if he were strangling on his whiskey. This

conversation was not one he preferred to hear, and certainly not one proper

women should be having in front of gentlemen. Not that it mattered. His perception of impropriety had been drastically altered since Abbey had come into

his life. Nonetheless, Sam and the servants looked terribly uncomfortable.

“Ladies, you must want the opportunity to visit before supper. I had promised

Lord Hunt a game of billiards, so if you will excuse us…” Michael said, and

pushed away from the mantel. “We’ll leave you to your visit.” Sam needed no

further encouragement and had almost made it to the door by the time Michael

finished with a short, polite bow. The women acknowledged their departure

with

polite nods. Michael glanced at the two servants who remained behind and shrugged in a gesture of helplessness before closing the door behind him.

Almost

immediately, the women’s laughter pealed in unison. Sam and Michael glanced at

each other and, without a word, strode quickly down the hall and to the sanctity

of the billiards room.

At nine o’clock the guests were seated for supper. Victoria and Virginia argued

over who would sit next to Abbey, with Virginia finally winning. Once Victoria

realized she was to be seated next to Sam, her irritation with her sister was

forgotten. Nan sat in the first chair she came to, which happened to be at the

head of the table, where Michael customarily sat, and remarked on the number of

forks. Michael was happy to forgive that gaffe as he found himself seated directly across from his wife. Lord and Lady Haversham, who had been at Blessing

Park for about an hour, both wore silly, happy grins on the their faces. It never ceased to amaze Michael how easily amused they could be.

The Taylor women had changed into evening gowns, all uniquely stunning and

obviously designed and made by Victoria. AH four women looked terribly appealing, and Michael noticed that Sam seemed to think so, too. But none of the

Taylor women held a candle to Abbey, who, dressed in the gown of midnight blue,

was smiling and laughing as she had not in a long time. As always, her light,

tingling laughter was infectious, and as the party settled about the table, they

were laughing gleefully at a remark Victoria had made.

The supper, a five-course meal complete with dressed Cornish game hens, wild

barley soup, and marzipan, was a raucous affair. When Virginia and Victoria were

not arguing over insignificant matters, they were peppering Abbey with questions, for which Lady Haversham happily supplied the answers. Nan was

pestering Michael with questions about his status and income, which Lady

Haversham also happily answered. Michael and Sam exchanged numerous looks,

Michael often rolling his eyes and Sam finding it difficult to suppress his chuckles at the outrageous remarks that flew around the table.

“My Abbey was positively beside herself when it was time to come to England,”

Nan offered once Lady Haversham had paused to catch her breath. “She was certain

Michael wouldn’t find her suitable, or feared he had given his affections to another. But I told her he’d be waiting anxiously, and just see if I wasn’t right!” she exclaimed jubilantly to all.

“Oh, my, yes, he was quite taken with her, I’ll promise you that. Everyone in

Pemberheath was quite surprised that he had taken a wife, but one only had to

look at his face to know how much he adored her!” Lady Haversham heartily

agreed.

From across the table, Michael caught Abbey’s indulgent smile. Her sparkling

eyes crinkled in the corners, and she looked at him with an expression that

relayed her sympathy. A surge of warmth crept through Michael’s limbs and to his

face. Her worry was unnecessary. Her happiness was so important to him that he

would have willingly endured any humiliation just to see her smile.

“I suppose your long wait did not seem so terribly long after all, did it?”

Nan

demanded.

“He was not waiting, Aunt Nan.” Abbey spoke truthfully.

“That isn’t precisely so, Abbey. I wasn’t waiting at Blessing Park all those years, true enough. But I never desired another woman as I desire you,”

he

responded before she could continue.

Startled, Abbey laughed lightly. “Please, you hardly recognized me.”

“You must admit, you had changed remarkably in those twelve years.”

“Had I indeed? I thought you quite the same.”

“Not the same at all. Before I had been fool enough to let you go.”

“Oooo, how very lovely,” Virginia gushed. “How fortunate you are, Abbey!”

A bit of color painted Abbey’s cheeks, and she shyly cast her gaze to the

Cornish hen on her plate. “It is he who is the fortunate one, if you want my humble opinion,” Nan said with a firm nod.

“I rather think I am the fortunate one, ladies. Where else in all of Britain could I dine with such lovely companions?” Sam said with gallantry.

“Here, here,” someone called, and everyone began chattering at once. As Lady

Haversham and Aunt Nan exchanged observations, Victoria and Virginia turned

their attention to Sam. Lord Haversham became enraptured with his hen, and Abbey

and Michael, separated by the wide table, sat quietly, their gazes locked.

After supper, Abbey had to convince her aunt that it was quite proper for the

ladies to retire while the men shared cigars and port. Nan declared she had

never heard of anything so preposterous, and, disgruntled, complained loudly as

she followed Abbey from the dining room. They ensconced themselves in Abbey’s

sitting room. Twice Michael ventured upstairs to reclaim them, and twice he

listened to the excited chatter and laughter when they turned him away. It was

not until Lord Haversham insisted that his wife accompany him home that one of

the women emerged. Lady Haversham stood at the door of the sitting room

extracting a promise that she would be allowed to call first thing in the morning. After Sam and Michael saw Lord Haversham drag Lady Haversham to the

door, the two men retired.

Michael could not sleep. He paced his room restlessly after propping his door

ajar so he could hear the occasional music coming from the room down the hall.

Every so often he would hear Nan’s authoritative voice rise above the others,

inevitably followed by gales of laughter. In his mind, he ran through a dozen

reasons to enter that female sanctuary, but dismissed them all as too contrived.

He finally settled himself in front of the fire with a book, admitting to himself that he was not wanted in there. Abbey wanted to be with her aunt

and

cousins. She wanted to play for them. She wanted to laugh with them. His eyes

scanned the page of the Latin text he was holding, but he comprehended nothing

as despair settled over him. Her smiles, her laughter, her gift of music, they

were all for her family. They were not for him. The hopefulness he had felt earlier had been just that—hope, nothing more.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he awoke, the hall was dark and no

sound came from the sitting room. Stiff from sleeping in the chair, he stood up

and stretched before glancing at the clock. It was two in the morning. He walked

to the door with the intention of shutting it when he heard the muffled noise of

quiet conversation. He ventured out in the hall; a thin shaft of light emanated

from a crack in the door of Abbey’s sitting room. He moved silently down the

corridor. He instantly recognized the soft lilt of Abbey’s voice, and the responding, decisive tones of her aunt’s low voice. He paused just shy of the

door, fully ashamed that he was eavesdropping, and trying to justify it to himself by pretending he intended to warn them of the late hour.

“But you don’t understand, Nan. He was never waiting for me. He did not even

know I existed,” Abbey was patiently explaining.

“Posh! He didn’t marry in all that time, did he? Think, Abbey. A very eligible

man in his third decade, never married? Do you think there were not women enough

from which to choose?”

“Of course, but—”

“But nothing. He was waiting for the right woman.”

“Nan, a marquis does not wait for the right woman, certainly not one he remembers as a hellion. A marquis marries for gain. And then keeps a mistress.”

“He was waiting for you! All right, maybe he didn’t know it was you, precisely.

Perhaps he truly didn’t recall you. But as sure as I am sitting here, that man

was waiting for the right woman, and the right woman was you, Abigail Carrington. Don’t try and convince yourself otherwise. Whatever has gone between

the two of you is past, and you are a fool if you look anywhere but forward.

That man loves you, girl, and I’ll tell you right now, he most definitely is not

keeping a mistress on the side!”

“I don’t know…”

“Do you love him?” Nan demanded.

Michael drew in his breath and closed his eyes when she did not answer right

away. “I have always loved him, Aunt. I always will.”

Michael swallowed hard. Had he heard her right? Did she truly love him?

“There you have it,” Nan was saying. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word

about returning to America, or how he didn’t trust you, or any of that nonsense.

He had good reason for what he did, and, besides, he loves you very much, and

you love him. It’s time to stop dwelling on the past.”

There was another very long pause, broken by Abbey’s light giggle. “By the by,

in Britain it is considered quite rude to address a marquis by his given name.”

“Indeed? Pray tell, how would the Redcoats have me address my dearest niece’s

husband?” Nan sniffed.

“His lordship. My lord. Lord Darfield.” Abbey giggled again.

“Well. If I should ever have occasion to address Mr. High and Mighty Marquis in

front of the King of England, then perhaps I shall consider it. Until then, he is family and his name is Michael!”

Michael heard nothing more than Abbey’s light laugh as he turned and made his

way back to his chambers. He could only pray Abbey had the good sense to listen

to her aunt, whom he had just determined was a very wise woman.

In preparation for a walk the next morning, Victoria, Virginia, and Abbey appeared on the large circular drive, each wearing a simple skirt and blouse,

and each sporting a ridiculous straw hat overburdened with silk flowers.

Observing from the shadows of the entry, Sebastian glanced at Jones.

“I thought spring had come and gone,” he remarked dryly.

Jones’s expression did not change. “Apparently spring has descended anew and

with a vengeance,” he responded without moving his gaze from the three women.

“Here there! You!” A woman’s voice, one that was becoming particularly familiar

to the two men, rang from behind. Exchanging wary glances, the two loyal servants turned to see Nan standing in the middle of the tiled foyer with her

feet spread apart and her fists stacked resolutely on her hips. She wore a similar hat to the girls and a healthy scowl.

“Madam?” Jones asked smoothly.

“Who is responsible for the menu here?”

“ Tis I, madam,” Jones said, bowing gallantly.

“Was it your idea of a jest?” she asked as she came toward him, squinting at him

over the rims of her spectacles.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That… that fish you served for breakfast! Good God, man, who can break their

fast with that?! We don’t need any fancy foreign dishes in the morning, my good

fellow. A caddie of toast, some fruit, and an egg or two will be quite sufficient!” she boomed.

Jones was expressionless. “As you wish, madam,” he said, and stepped aside to

let her pass.

“Scared us out of our wits, it did,” she muttered as she brushed by them.

Sebastian looked questioningly at Jones.

“Kippers,” Jones said evenly.

“What of them?” Michael asked. Michael and Sam entered the foyer, pausing to

accept their hats and gloves from two footmen standing there.