The Outcast Earl (19 page)

“Nonsense, my dear. I cannot look into your face properly when we are standing, as you are shorter than I am. Please sit, so that I can join you, and we can converse like civilised adults.”

He released her hands. Abigail consented to sit, outwardly reluctant. Charles followed her quickly and reached out to rest his right hand along her jaw, tipping her face up to him. “I will not—no, I
cannot
apologise for the sentiment or for reacting as I’m certain my warlord ancestors did. I do apologise for the poor choice of timing and surrounds—that conversation would have been more appropriately placed here in this room, or upstairs in my sitting room. It was tactless of me to begin the conversation, or to pursue it, before I had properly considered the ramifications of my words, or even my own feelings on the matter.”

Abigail blinked at him, surprise in her eyes. She had, he realised, been prepared for a battle she had no intention of losing. He’d seen that same look on her face when he’d apologised for other missteps. Were the notions of regret and reconciliation so foreign to her?

“You were right, earlier, when you said you were not like the others of our class,” she finally answered, her face showing her struggle with what she had intended to say.

“How so?” Charles asked.

“I think…” She bit her lip. “You may be the only gentleman to ever apologise to me for anything.”

“Ah,” Charles replied, comprehension dawning. His lips twisted in amusement. “It is true that many gentlemen, particularly peers, see apologies as evidence of weakness, in judgement or in decision-making. We are taught from our youngest years to not apologise or back away for shame, but to act with conviction and strength. To be sure, this appearance of perfection and strength of mind are important in the company of other men, in politics, business and in war. However, here in our home, I expect you to be able to confess and rectify mistakes that you make. I can accept no lower standard for my own behaviour.”

Abigail nodded after a long minute, still warily watching him. She asked hesitantly, “And do you expect me to apologise as well?”

Charles chuckled. It was true she had not cut short the discussion as soon as she might have. But she had only been complicit in following his lead, something he could hardly fault. “No. But for not prettily reassuring me of your lifelong wifely fidelity I am very tempted to confine you to our rooms, permanently.”

Abigail straightened with stiff indignation. “Gammon,” she replied heatedly. “I can no more make such a promise than you, which was the substance of my answer outside. As long as I have a faithful, devoted, attentive husband, why would I have the inclination—or the time or opportunity—to go elsewhere?”

Not able to resist such a goad, Charles immediately fixed his lips to hers, and answered without a word.

* * * *

Many minutes later, Abigail surfaced from the absorbing kiss and opened her eyes. She was back against the high end of the chaise, her back arching, and the buttons on the bodice of her gown undone. She blinked, but Meriden lowered his mouth to her nipple even as he pulled the fabric aside, and Abigail could do nothing but moan and grip his head with her fingers.

Before, the sitting room had been cloaked in shadows and the furtive touching had been in the depths of the night. Here, now, sunlight streamed in through the terrace windows and doors, and, looking down, Abigail could see his lips moving against her pale skin. When he drew back, she made a pathetic sound of wonder, for her pink areolas and nipples were darker, red and stiff with eager invitation.

Meriden did not disappoint them. He moved his mouth to her other breast and feasted liberally, until Abigail moved anxiously, urgently, and whimpered. Obligingly, she felt his hand smooth up the inside of her knee beneath her skirts and she pressed against his body, opening her thighs obediently as his hand slipped between them.

He shifted position, kneeling with one knee between her legs, her skirts rucked up around it as he stroked and gently sought the warm skin of her pubis and lower. With his other hand, he pushed his palm to her stomach, holding her firmly to the chaise, and he continued to savour her nipples, his teeth teasing those sensitive berries to draw out her gasps and groans.

Abigail clenched her fingers on his shoulders, then moved them to his scalp, her fingers tangling in his hair as he watched her writhe. He circled her hooded button with his thumb, stroking the soft hair and vulnerable skin, spreading her warm moisture about until she was mindless with need. “Please,” she whispered, the word echoing between them.

He was a rock then, his features still and tight in the dim light, but his fingers slipped between the folds of her skin and rubbed the aching, pulsing nub until she was suffused with a delightful explosion of pleasure.

She could feel his hard body moving, even as she stared at him. Meriden stepped back, wholly focused on her aroused form. Her muscles weak from the climax, she sank back against the pillows. Blushing, she looked down at herself. Her bodice was open, her chemise untied and pushed down. Her skirts were rumpled and pushed up, and she could see her stockings were visible almost to her knees.

A full minute passed before he turned to look at her, but she continued to lie there, staring at him, hardly daring to move. With a wry twist to his mouth, he came forward and re-dressed her, even as she framed the words she was thinking. “I do not understand at all. I thought you would be angry with me this morning?”

He raised an eyebrow, questioning.

Abigail made a gesture with her fingers. “Because I fell asleep and didn’t wait for you last night. I thought you didn’t mind, but then you went off this morning—
twice
—without even a casual farewell? And why did you stop just now? I know there must be more than that. I don’t know much, but you are clearly not experiencing
le petit mort
as I am. And—”

“Abby!”

She blinked and stopped at this impertinence, but his lips prevented whatever she might have said. After a long exchange, Meriden drew back only far enough to murmur, “As you know, I did go to your room, thinking to indulge in my plans and fantasies. Once there, I would not have woken you. I know how little sleep you have had lately. As for the rest, I will wait impatiently until the time and place are both right, both to give you that spanking I promised and to seek my own pleasures. It is only a few minutes until it is time to dress for dinner—not nearly long enough for the extended period I will require of your undivided attention.”

“It takes a long time?” Abigail frowned. “I thought—” At this she stopped suddenly, embarrassed. “Well, the thing is, if one disappears alone with a gentleman for more than twenty minutes, she is compromised, no? So I thought it must not take very long.”

Meriden’s lips twisted, but then he laughed merrily and put a palm to her cheek affectionately. “Darling girl, only a selfish clod does it in twenty minutes or less, unless there are extraordinary circumstances. I propose for it to take at least three times that long—preferably six to ten times that long.”

“Oh.”

Abigail blinked, feeling awkward and somewhat foolish, but Meriden took pity on her at that minute. “Now then,” he said, and drew her to her feet, “we really do have business. The marriage contracts have arrived, and some other papers from Rutherford, arranging for him to take over management of your affairs.”

Abigail drew a deep breath and composed herself, at least mentally. She could tell her hair was mussed, and knew her lips must be swollen, but there was little help for it. Besides, Meriden did not seem to mind, and he had caused it.

They finished sorting through and signing the documents as the clocks chimed the hour in warning. Abigail lifted a hand to her head, then grimaced. “I must go up and change again, and repair this,” she said reluctantly, stacking the papers neatly as Meriden’s hands gently fondled her neck.

“Sadly, I suppose you must.” He frowned. “I understand your aunt is coming down to dinner. Left to my own preferences, of course, I’d take it all down and wrap you just in silk shawls and feed you morsels on a divan by the fire. Or, at the very least, happily share a quiet table with just you, gloriously mussed as you are.”

Abigail smiled at his fantasy and rose. “The drawing room in a half-hour?” she asked, unsurprised when he followed her to the door. Together they left the room, and Abigail flushed as Meriden rested his hand on her rump, uninhibited by their location as they climbed the large central stairs.

“If you insist,” he returned. The couple paused at the top of the stairs, where circumstance would force them to part.

Abigail took two steps, but then faced him. She waited until he raised a questioning eyebrow. “If you’d come for me last night,” she said softly, “I wouldn’t have turned you away.”

She left him then, but knew he watched her all the way down the corridor. As she reached her door, she looked back at him. His gaze was still firmly fixed on her, and with a last, tentative smile, she left his sight.

Chapter Nine

Abigail was already in the drawing room when the doors were thrown open and Meriden strode in, bearing Aunt Betsy in his arms. She stared for a moment at the lady’s vivid orange gown with green braid, but then hurried over to a settee and plumped the pillows before Meriden gently deposited the older lady onto them. Grady and Mrs Carlton both followed him into the room, with Mrs Carlton firmly wielding a solid wooden cane and Grady hovering ineffectually, in what Abigail would have described as a dither in an older man.

“I found them trying to help her downstairs.” Meriden stated brusquely. “I decided we’d be all night about it their way.”

Still staring, Abigail hurried over to take the cane from the housekeeper, while Aunt Betsy smoothed her skirts and sucked in a deep breath. “Now, now, thanks to the earl, I’m just fine,” she said briskly, waving back both butler and housekeeper. “You go off now and come back when dinner is announced.”

Abigail looked at Meriden and blinked, but he simply shrugged. Uncertainly, she sat down next to Aunt Betsy. “I’m so glad you could come down tonight, ma’am,” she said sincerely, listening as Meriden served himself a drink from the sideboard.

Betsy patted Abigail’s hand even as her eyes rested on Meriden, who was returning to their side as he sipped from his glass. “The room upstairs is lovely, my lord Meriden, but I’ve seen the draping and wallpaper enough for a month,” she decreed. “And it was fortuitous of you to happen along just when I needed you. I had a good nap this afternoon, and feel much refreshed, but that gallery was longer than I expected.”

Meriden’s gaze seemed squarely placed on Abigail now that he’d turned and was sipping a drink. By rights, he should have been looking at her aunt. “Anytime, my lady,” he said somewhat soberly.

“Now that I can escape from my room for bits of time, Meriden, I think it imperative you have that rector and whatever other local guests are required to the house as soon as possible,” Aunt Betsy announced briskly.

Abigail felt confused. “Aunt Betsy, you aren’t strong enough to be entertaining a dinner party yet—”

“I must discuss the wedding with Danvers, and give him the family’s approval,” Betsy said imperiously.

Meriden shifted. “I’m not objecting, of course, as I enjoy having the company,” he murmured. “But he looked over the marriage contract before the banns were read the first time.”

Abigail wondered in sudden amusement how Reverend and Mrs Danvers would feel if Betsy made it clear what she had originally thought of the importuning, ill-mannered earl of poor repute. No doubt they’d stand up for the man devotedly, and place the onus on Abigail—she who was patently marrying for financial security, as much as anything else.

“Of course, but a contract is not a measure of our full approval. Naturally I’m planning to attend church on Sunday, but I do think that these obligations need to be spread out. Tomorrow being Friday, I can rest all day on Saturday if need be, then brave the village church Sunday.” Betsy’s words were decisive. Indeed, she wasn’t
asking
. She was directing, and Abigail experienced a sudden welling of buoyed joy.

Betsy would be well, soon enough.

“Monday, of course, I’ll rest as much as possible, for Tuesday is the wedding and breakfast and I will not be missing either.”

Betsy spoke briskly for some minutes as Abigail watched her, careful to hide any outward relief. She knew to spare her aunt any histrionic demonstrations of sentiment, but when Grady appeared to announce dinner, Abigail could hardly keep her emotions concealed.

Observing every propriety, Meriden went to take Betsy’s arm, but she waved him off with the bearing of a duchess and beckoned Grady, who hastened to her side. Abigail stood waiting, her gaze fixed intently on Betsy’s proud back as Grady led her himself into the hall.

“What the devil is wrong?” Meriden gripped Abigail’s upper arm, tipping up her face with one hand.

“Wh-what?” Abigail blinked, unable to help the harried breathing and hurt suddenly rising up in her chest. She felt weak in the knees and a bit frail herself, and would have sat, except Meriden’s hands and arms prevented her.

“You look as if you might swoon.” He frowned. “And it’s been getting worse ever since we came in the drawing room. Cut line, someone will come looking any minute. What’s happened?”

Abigail smiled, the muscles around her mouth stretching more freely than they’d done in days. “She’s just like herself,” she managed, relief suffusing her. “She’s going to get better, I
know she is
.”

And with those last happy words, Abigail burst into tears.

* * * *

“I really am so
sorry
, Aunt Betsy,” Abigail said again, preparing her aunt’s teacup. Meriden had decried sitting by himself in his cups, and had carried Betsy, clearly tiring, back to the drawing room immediately after the covers had been drawn.

Abigail shot Meriden a glance. “I mean, the drawing room before dinner is hardly the place to have such a nonsensical display of emotion. I suppose it was a delayed response. And I am just so
happy
that you are improving so rapidly that I couldn’t contain it anymore.”