The Redemption of Lord Rawlings (10 page)

Phillip looked down at his empty glass.

“
Dinner is served,” a deep voice announced.

Men began escorting women side by side to the dining room. Feeling somewhat left out, Phillip awkwardly stayed behind. But when Lady Fenton’s eye fell to him, he panicked and desperately searched for a living, breathing female he could pull. It just so happened that the only female left in the room, save Lady Fenton, was Abigail.

Mumbling an oath, he approached her. “May I escort you?”

Abigail’s face lit up like sunshine, and he immediately regretted his decision. He was supposed to be discouraging her. He didn’t deserve to be looked at in that manner—as if he single-handedly created the earth in six days. Roughly, he grabbed her hand and placed it on his, then without a word, he led her down the lit hallway.

Was it his imagination or did the house have more dimly lit corridors than he remembered? And just how many darkened corners were they passing? His brain told him to move forward. His body, however, had very different entertainments in mind. Suddenly thankful that they were last, he walked a little faster. How in the devil was he supposed to help protect young Abigail when he hardly had enough energy to protect her from himself?

****

It had worked! Abigail smiled triumphantly until her gaze fell on Sebastian, and then Emma. She tensed under Rawlings’ arm and hung her head. The moment of elation was not worth the scalding glare she received from Sebastian, nor the hurt she read in her sister’s eyes.

She was not stupid. Abigail knew she had hurt her sister’s feelings, and since Emma was nearing her confinement, she was becoming more and more emotional. She couldn’t help but feel as if the darkened mood was all her fault, Abigail did not even notice that Rawlings had taken a seat next to her.

It wasn’t common for Abigail to feel gloomy. Needless to say it took her by surprise considering it was not something she was used to. She ate her soup in silence, glancing every few minutes at Emma, hoping to gain her attention. Sebastian caught her staring and shook his head as if to warn her to leave well enough alone.

As she fought the lump in her throat, she wanted nothing more than to rip the blasted dress off and throw it in the fire, but that would cause even more scandal. So she choked down the dry food and listened to the light conversation, praying the dinner would soon be over.

When dinner finally ended, she pushed her chair out and retired with the rest of the ladies to the blue room, sherry in hand.

“
I just cannot believe they would invite him,” the Dowager Duchess of Barlowe said. “And I am sorry to say this, I really am, but does he truly believe a good shave will fog everyone’s memories of the drunken escapades of his past?”

Lady Fenton closed her eyes. “I agree, your grace, but isn’t he a delight to look upon? Several times I caught myself glancing at his figure. I find that I get hot thinking about it.”

“
That, my dear friend, is age talking, not Lord Rawlings.” The dowager smiled. “It is necessary that we continue to ignore the man until he gets the idea that he is not accepted into society. Not now, not ever.”

Abigail cleared her throat. “I am sorry, your grace, but I don’t agree with your assessment of his character. After all, who are we to pass judgment? Have we not all made mistakes in our lives?”

“
Spoken like a true innocent.” The dowager smiled sadly. “It seems that Lord Rawlings has a champion in you, my girl.”

Abigail furrowed her eyebrows, because it wasn’t that she was his champion, it was that he deserved a chance just as much as anyone. “I may be young, but it is that innocent outlook on life that tells my heart to give everyone an opportunity, regardless of their past. Do you not agree that a person’s past can either define or change their future? If then, we project someone’s past into his or her future, we are not practicing forgiveness, nor goodness, but condemnation.”

“
Bravo, my dear,” The dowager couldn’t look more pleased, yet wasn’t she just the one saying horrid things about Rawlings?

Rosalind, who had been quiet during the entire exchange, winked at Abigail. Feeling slightly better, Abigail relaxed, until her sister entered the room. Her eyes looked sad, making Abigail feel even worse.

“
Abigail, that dress becomes you. Who made it?” Lady Fenton asked.

Quickly, Abigail looked to Emma, who refused to return her stare.

“
It’s from Madame Valerie’s, Lady Fenton. If you’ll just excuse me then.”

Abigail bolted from her seat and ran to the outside balcony, choking back tears the entire way. Only when she reached the cool night air, was she able to finally give into gut-wrenching sobs that had threatened her during the previous conversation. She was being emotional, and she knew it. But Abigail could not bear her sister’s sadness or the guilt eating at her. And the fact that every young woman in attendance seemed to look to the dowager for guidance made it worse. How dare she say such things about Rawlings. She hardly knew him.

Her corset was tight enough to hamper her breathing. Frantic, she pulled at the front, but it was no use. Her hand shook as she reached around to the back and met someone’s warm hand.

“
Allow me,” a voice said.

Oh no.

A man’s hands tenderly pulled at the back of her dress, and then somehow this angel in disguise managed to loosen the dress’s hold on her body just enough to ease her breathing and prevent hyperventilation.

“
Th-a-ank you,” she mumbled, completely ashamed, hurt, and scandalized. What was this stranger doing outside?

“
Abby?” She knew that voice. “Talk to me—tell me what has you so upset. You do remember you used to tell me everything. I remember a time when you could not wait to fall out of trees in hopes that I would catch you. Or fall and scrape your knee so I could blow a kiss and make the pain go away.”

Words that dripped of poetry and sweet memories. Abigail involuntarily shuddered and turned to face Rawlings. “I cannot.”

“
You cannot or you will not? Which is it, Abby?”

“
You shouldn’t call me Abby,” she mumbled. “Thank you for…for what you did.” Why wouldn’t her voice stop shaking?

Rawlings grinned, his white teeth glowing against his dark features. “Yes, well, I think I’ve earned the honor of calling you Abby, since I’ve known you the longest. I also believe that since I’m to protect you from rakes like myself, I can call you anything I like.”

Abigail relented. She was too tired to fight. “You’re right.”

Rawlings laughed. “Do my ears deceive me? Shall I call in witnesses? Devil take it, Abby. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you utter such beautiful words.”

“
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?