The Devil's Love (35 page)

exchange.

Abbey sighed in her sleep and shifted against his chest. He glanced heavenward.

When the coach rolled to a halt in front of his home, Michael helped her from

the coach. She staggered against him when her feet hit the pavement, and he

immediately swept her into his arms and carried her inside and up the stairs to

his chamber, calmly ignoring her sleepy protests. He dismissed Damon, lay her in

the middle of his bed, and quickly shed everything but his trousers. Then he

moved back to the bed, admiring the sweep of her lashes against her skin, the

relaxed line of her lips, her arm dropped carelessly across her waist. He gently

rolled her onto her side and swiftly unfastened the row of tiny buttons down her

back. She did not open her eyes, but she smiled sleepily as he removed

her

jewelry.

“Lady Delacorte said, ‘You simply must come to supper Wednesday next,’ ” Abbey

said, quietly mimicking the rotund woman’s chirp. “ ‘The Earl and Countess of

Middlefield will be in attendance, and they’ve just returned from America, my

dear. I am quite sure you would enjoy hearing their news.’ ”

Michael smiled to himself as he removed her shoes and stockings. “And what did

you say?” he asked as he leaned over her to slide the gown from her smooth

shoulders.

“I told her I was flattered, but that I had to consult with my husband’s secretary. Lady Delacorte said, ‘Why, of course, Lord Darfield is in great demand.’ ”

“Mmmm,” Michael said idly as he leaned down to kiss the satin skin of her

shoulder.

“But then she clarified she was asking me and not you.” Abbey giggled.

Her

light, tinkling laugh was too provocative, and Michael moved over her, covering

her body with his own.

“So that’s the way of it, is it? You make a successful appearance among England’s elite, and suddenly I am relegated to lonely suppers while you gad

about?‘’ he asked, kissing the hollow of her throat. Abbey sighed softly at the

touch of his warm lips and tenderly stroked his hair.

“The way of it, my handsome lord, is that Lady Delacorte and her countess can

rot,” Abbey said, giggling as Michael tried to kiss the smile from her face.

Later Abbey lay with her back to Michael’s chest, her arm draped across his

thickly corded one that possessively held her to him. The evening had gone well,

despite some of the rude ogling and untoward questions. Michael had enjoyed

himself and she had enjoyed most of it too. But the best part was that it was

finally over.

“Abbey?” Michael asked against her hair, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I love you, Michael. You have made my life perfect,” she whispered.

He grunted, unable to choke out a proper reply. But in his heart he acknowledged

that those words made a grand evening perfect. He was truly glad to be home.

Abbey’s life was perfect until the next afternoon. After a late and leisurely breakfast with Michael, Abbey retired to her chambers to put a dent in the correspondence over which Sebastian was nearing apoplexy. She had made good

progress when Jones interrupted to tell her that a gentleman, Mr. Galen Carrey,

had come to call.

Galen was standing at the window of the blue drawing room, nervously fingering

his dark-brown neckcloth when Abbey bounced in.

“Galen! You surprise me again!” She laughed, opening her arms to embrace him.

“I missed you at Blessing Park, little one.” He smiled, returning her warm embrace. He released her and stood back, smiling appreciatively as he eyed her

sea-green and cream gown. “I must say, London seems to agree with you.”

Abbey smiled self-consciously and led him to the settee, where she settled

daintily, her hands folded in her lap. Galen sat beside her.

“Have you been in London long?” she asked.

“Just a few days.” He shrugged. “I concluded my business in Portsmouth and went

straight to Blessing Park, then I followed you here.” Galen looked at her hands

and drew one into his and clasped it, studying it intently. He was expressionless, and Abbey wondered if his deal had fallen through.

“Well?” she prodded. “Was it concluded successfully?”

“One could say it was.” He kept his eyes on her hand as he spoke.

“Oh, Galen, that’s wonderful! So you have a post now, do you? As captain?” she

asked excitedly.

Galen slowly released her hand and leaned forward, propping his forearms on his

thighs, and stared at the floor. “Abbey, I have some important news.

Perhaps you

could dismiss your footman?” Abbey lifted her brows, silently questioning

what

he could possibly have to say that could not be said in front of Hanson. “I rather think it best if you heard it alone,” he muttered, his eyes still on the floor.

An odd sense of foreboding swept through her. “But what—‘’

“I can assure you it’s a matter of some… delicacy. I’m only thinking of you.” He

lifted his gaze and looked at her with such concern that Abbey’s heart skipped a

beat. Her first thought was that something had happened to Aunt Nan or one of

the girls. She tried to read his expression, but he quickly averted his eyes again and clasped his hands tightly together.

Abbey glanced over her shoulder. “Please excuse us, Hanson.” She waited until

the footman had quietly closed the door. “Oh, God, what has happened?

Has

something happened to Aunt Nan?”

“Oh, no!” He laughed nervously. “It’s just that the news I have is rather important… for you as well as for me.”

A vague sense of panic pricked her. “What is it?” she asked slowly, quite certain she did not want to hear his answer. Galen had been waiting for his news

with enthusiasm, but at the moment, he looked sickened, as if he could not bear

to say it aloud.

“Well, it’s very hard to say, really, something of a long story. I wonder if you

were aware that your father and I were estranged for some years.” Abbey blinked.

“He considered me to be a bit irresponsible,” Galen quickly explained,

“and I

was, in my youth. But that changed, and happily, in the last three or four years, the captain and I reconciled.”

“I had no idea,” Abbey admitted truthfully. She could recall her papa complaining about Galen’s irresponsible ways, a terrible row or two between

them, but no estrangement had been mentioned. And if there was some sort of rift

between them, she could not, for the life of her, imagine what it had to do with

anything now.

Galen took a deep breath. “He took me in after my father died and was

like a

father to me himself, you know. I very much respected him, Abbey, I truly did,”

he said softly, his gaze riveted on the Oriental carpet between his feet.

“And I am sure he felt the same for you, Galen,” Abbey replied earnestly.

“But I

don’t understand. What has this to do with your new post?”

Galen blinked, shifted his gaze to the ceiling, and took another deep breath.

“When we reconciled, the captain promised me a living of sorts. He informed me

that he intended to leave one of his larger merchant vessels to me, so that I

might carry on with the family trade. That is why I accepted the apprenticeship

in Amsterdam, so I could learn every aspect of the business. But when he died, I

discovered a rather unfortunate mistake.”

Abbey was sure she had not heard him correctly. Her father had never mentioned

any such thing to her, and there was certainly no mention of Galen in the papers

she had received. Perhaps there had been a codicil? She was not sure what

happened to the vessels; all she knew is that they were somehow entailed in the

final settlement of his estate. “What mistake?” she asked softly.

Galen turned to look at her, his brown eyes almost pleading. “Abbey, what I have

to tell you is quite extraordinary. Apparently, your father’s solicitor, Mr.

Strait, dispatched a will to you before the captain actually died. It was quite

natural for Mr. Strait to do so; the captain was very near death, and he wanted

to be sure the last will was executed. But… you see, the captain had a change of

heart.”

“A change of heart?” she echoed incredulously.

“Yes. Unfortunately, Mr. Strait had already sent the papers he had in his possession. What I am saying is that he did not send the final papers.”

Panic began to swell in Abbey’s throat. “What final papers? I received my father’s last will and testament.”

He smiled sadly and shook his head. “No, little one, you did not. I have

the

last will here, one that supersedes yours.”

Abbey blinked, unable to absorb what he was telling her. She came quickly to her

feet and unconsciously began to pace. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand. I

don’t recall that he left a ship to you, but perhaps there was a codicil, something detailing his wishes for the fleet. Surely that is what you have?”

she

asked, nodding hopefully.

“No, Abbey. I have, in my possession, his final will and testament. It does not

bequeath a ship. It bequeaths a considerable sum.”

“A sum?”

“Of almost five hundred thousand pounds,” he said weakly.

Abbey laughed, a little hysterically. “That is the sum of my dowry!”

Galen sighed heavily and withdrew a thick document from his coat. “Try and

understand, little one. He had a change of heart on his deathbed and let the

half million pounds to me. Your dowry is the cancellation of Darfield’s debts.

Unfortunately, the revised will did not reach you in time.” With that announcement, he opened the document and showed her the captain’s distinctive

signature.

Abbey was stunned, absolutely and thoroughly stunned. It was too outrageous to

believe, but then again, she hardly knew what to believe about her father anymore. He had, after all, lied to her about Michael all those years. But this

was different; it was inconceivable. She stared blankly at the document in Galen’s hand as she tried to comprehend it. “It’s impossible,” she muttered to

herself.

Galen smiled thinly and stooped to pick up a satchel she had not previously

noticed. “I assumed, naturally, that you would find it hard to believe. The courier I hired to retrieve the papers also returned a few personal items.

Apparently Mr. Strait did not think to return them to you, as he had already

deemed it unnecessary to travel personally to America.” As Abbey gaped at him,

he reached into the satchel and retrieved a pair of ivory cuff links cut in the shape of small elephant heads that she immediately recognized as being her

father’s.

“Where did you get those?” she whispered. “They belonged to Papa.”

Galen did not

answer as he placed them on a table. She swallowed hard; there had to be some

explanation.

“The captain wanted you to have this,” Galen said, nodding to something in the

satchel. “He saved it, believing you would one day want to give it to one of your children.” As he pulled a doll from the satchel, Abbey gasped. It was an

exact replica of the doll she had dragged over the decks of the Dancing Maiden.

She sank heavily into a damask chair as her head began to swim. It was impossible, completely improbable.

But was it really?

She had discovered things about her father since his death that made her question everything about him. She felt an odd stab of guilt; what if her father

had changed his mind and left her money to Galen? But had her father really done

something so rash? Had he really, in the throes of death, attempted to provide

for Galen?

“I do not know what to say,” she murmured.

“Little one, I know this is all very difficult. Your husband will understand, I am quite certain of it.”

Abbey moaned; she was not nearly so certain. Suddenly she rose to her feet and

reached for the will that Galen had put on the table with the other things, and

frantically scanned the pages. It looked just like the one she had, except that

it bequeathed the Carrington fortune to Galen, not her. Just as Galen had said,

the will specified the cancellation of Michael’s debts as her dowry. And if she

had any doubt, her father’s characteristically bold handwriting stood starkly on

the page, confirming everything, and dated a month or more past the one

she had.

Abbey took a deep gulp of air to fight down her spiraling hysteria.

She knew, instinctively, how very bad this would look to Michael. Her father had

duped him once before, and now he was adding the crowning glory of his deception

from his grave. He had left her dowry to Galen. Not a ship—her dowry.

Dear God,

what would Michael think? That he had been duped into an unwanted marriage with

her? Only to learn that she had come empty-handed to this union, and therefore

it was all for naught? He would not have married her under those circumstances,

he had made that painfully clear. But would he now assume he had been tricked

into marrying her?

“No!” she whispered hoarsely, and whirled toward the mantel, clutching the will

to her chest. She told herself frantically that Michael would never believe she

had tricked him, but she hardly believed it.

“Dear God,” she heard Galen mutter, and felt a strong hand on her elbow, as she

was pulled to the settee and forced to sit. Galen knelt next to her, her hands

in his. His brown eyes, full of worry, searched her face. “Abbey, don’t be upset! It shall be all right, I promise you!”

But Abbey could think only of Michael, who would soon hear of yet another