Chapter Eleven − A New Pact

Standing in the drawing room of the duke’s townhouse, Griffin wondered which of the two women would meet him. Would it be the hideously dressed, shrill woman who had squashed his toes on more than one occasion? Or rather the compassionate, fiercely loyal young lady whose smile he had seen in his dreams last night?

Quite honestly, Griffin preferred the latter.

Who wouldn’t?

Still, there was no way to know, and so when he heard approaching footsteps, Griffin drew in a slow breath, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation.

Then the door opened, and in its frame appeared a young woman dressed in a simple, yet elegant gown, its subtle yellow fabric shining against the dark of her flowing hair, here and there pinned up, with loose tendrils dancing down to her shoulders.

Griffin breathed a sigh of relief…until his gaze fell on the dark scowl on her face. Swallowing, he greeted her. “Good day, Miss Abbott. It is truly a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Miss Abbott said as though in trance, her eyes narrowed as she watched him with no small amount of suspicion. “Please, do sit.” Striding into the room, her long legs carrying her gracefully across the Persian rug, she kept her gaze fixed on his face as though hoping to unravel the mystery of his visit.

And surely it must be a mystery to her for as far as Griffin knew she had not received any gentleman callers in the past few weeks. Her act had driven them all away. Certainly, she had to be wondering what he was doing here, especially after her rather memorable performance at Hyde Park. Judging from the look on her face, she had thought herself successful in driving him away as well.

Then she cleared her throat, and a new determination flashed over her face. “May I ask what brings you here, my lord?” she asked, a sudden edge to her voice that had not been there before.

Griffin frowned, aware that she was displeased with his presence in her home. Had she decided to return to her act to rid herself of him?

An amused grin came to his face as he leaned back. “Do you care for an honest answer?”

His question seemed to surprise her for her eyes narrowed, and her voice returned to a normal pitch as though she had forgotten the role she had forced on herself. “Does your question imply that you generally do not speak honestly, my lord?”

Griffin laughed, “Do you?”

The muscles in her jaw tensed. “Well, I suppose honesty rests in the eye of the observer. I, for one, have observed that few people openly reveal their true opinions. Most hide behind civility, manners, social etiquette and, of course, their own ambitions.” Her brows rose in challenge as though she dared him to contradict her.

Holding her gaze, Griffin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you care to know what I have observed?”

For a moment, she hesitated, drawing in a slow breath. “Do tell.”

“Well, I have to admit it took me a good while to make sense of you,” he said, encouraged to forge ahead at her sharp intake of breath. “At first, your behaviour downright puzzled me. Why on earth would anyone act the way you did?” He shook his head, his lips twitching with amusement. “I wondered if there truly were people on this earth completely oblivious to how they are perceived by others. I could not fathom it to be true, and yet, you appeared to be one such unique individual.” He chuckled, “But you’re not, are you?”

Miss Abbott inhaled a deep breath, her hands curled into the fabric of her skirt. “What is your reasoning?”

“Everything changed that afternoon at the park,” he continued, watching her face intently. “Your concern for your aunt overruled your act, and from one second to the next, you were a completely different person.” He shook his head, laughing. “I admit I could not believe my eyes. For a moment, I thought I’d lost my mind.”

Miss Abbott swallowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath as she held his gaze, waiting. “Do you plan on…sharing your opinion with−?”

“No!” he answered her question before it had even left her lips. His gaze held hers, and he could see a touch of anxiety in her grey eyes. Did she wonder about his intentions?

“Then why are you telling me this?” she asked abruptly, annoyance chasing away all concern she had felt before. “Why are you here? If your intention is to…secure my dowry, I might as well tell you now that my grandfather would never force my hand, and I would never accept a man who−”

“That is not why I’m here,” Griffin hastened to reply as he saw the slight tremble in her hands. Did she truly think he would go over her head to enrich himself? “I do not want your dowry,” he stressed, holding her gaze, willing her to believe him. “Nor do I need it.”

Miss Abbott exhaled a slow breath, and some of the tension fell from her face. “So, you’re not here to propose?”

Griffin shook his head. “Not at present,” he said, surprising himself. Did he truly care for this woman? Or was it merely idle curiosity?

In answer, her eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”

“To get to know you,” Griffin said. “I admit I’m fairly intrigued by your charade. It speaks of a strong will, tremendous creativity and no small ability to act. For the woman you portray to the world is nothing like you, is she? You invented her to protect yourself, to rid yourself of your suitors, men who wished to marry you to secure your dowry, is that not so?”

Swallowing, she stared at him, shock clearly written all over her face. And still, Griffin thought to see a touch of pleasure in her grey eyes as though a part of her revelled in the fact that he had seen behind her mask and noticed the real person underneath. “Is that all you’ve come for,” she asked then, “to confirm your suspicion?”

Griffin chuckled, “Partly, I came because…I have no choice.”

Her gaze widened, and he noticed a touch of curiosity. “Why is that?”

“A little while ago, I made a promise to my sister,” he admitted freely, realising that he owed her honesty in return for stripping her of her mask, “and now she is holding me to it.”

Miss Abbott swallowed. “What kind of promise?”

 

***

 

Watching Lord Amberly, Abigail noticed the amusement that never seemed to leave his eyes, and she felt herself relax when she failed to detect any kind of malintent. He wasn’t laughing about her. Not at all. He seemed merely entertained by the situation they found themselves in. A man who would see the humour in the world. “So, are you bound to secrecy? Or can you reveal said promise?”

For a moment, he seemed to think her question over before his gaze intensified on hers. “Only if you promise not to reveal it to another? Let this stay between us, and no one else.”

Intrigued, Abigail nodded. “From the way you speak, my lord, I must assume the worst.”

“Oh, it is quite dreadful, I assure you.” Still, there was a touch of mischief in his eyes that led her to believe he was teasing her.

“Well then?” she pressed, realising that she truly wanted to know.

Watching her intently, no doubt looking for her reaction, Lord Amberly took a deep breath. “Well, last fall, my sister suddenly decided that it was time she found herself a husband. However, she went about it in a most ridiculous way.” He shook himself as though trying to dispel the dreadful memory. “She started to make lists of her attributes and intended to match them to those she could discover in London’s eligible bachelors.”

Abigail felt her eyes widening until she was outright staring at him.

Lord Amberly nodded vigorously. “That’s exactly what I thought,” he answered her silent reaction. “I thought it was a ludicrous plan, especially since she’d already lost her heart to an old friend of mine but refused to acknowledge it because−as she put it−they would not suit each other.”

“You’re referring to Lord Chadwick, are you not?” Abigail asked, feeling herself caught up in the story.

Lord Amberly nodded.

“So, you were able to dissuade her from her plan,” she concluded, relieved for Winifred’s sake. “They truly are a good match. I cannot imagine her with anyone else.”

“Neither could I.”

“Then how did you manage?” Abigail asked, somewhat surprised that he had a similarly calculating mind. “How did you sway her?”

Lord Amberly chuckled, “In order for me to have a say in her choice, I had to promise her a say in mine.”

Again, Abigail’s eyes widened until she stared at him, a deep smile on her face as she realised his predicament.

“Not my finest moment,” he assured her. “Still, what was I to do? I could not in good conscience allow her to marry one of those mind-numbingly boring gentlemen because she could not admit to herself that she was in love.”

Abigail felt her heart warm. “You love her very much.”

“I do.” A soft smile came to Lord Amberly’s face. “She’s my sister. As much as I want to throttle her sometimes, my happiness is irrevocably tied to hers.”

Seeing the devotion in his dark brown eyes, Abigail sighed. Never had she known the love of a brother or sister. After losing her mother before ever having a chance to know her, her father had been her whole world. Until, he, too, had been taken from her.

“Are you all right?” Lord Amberly asked, the smile gone from his face, replaced by honest concern.

Abigail nodded, doing her utmost to blink back the tears that threatened.

“Do you…have any siblings?” he asked carefully, possibly suspecting a recent loss in her family. Had Winifred not told him?

Abigail shook her head. “My mother died in childbirth, and my father…a few weeks past.”

At her revelation, Lord Amberly’s eyes widened before utter sadness overtook his face. “That’s why you came here? To stay with your grandfather?”

Abigail nodded, not knowing what to say. How had they gotten to this sorrowful topic? Would he leave now? Uncomfortable with a weeping female?

Closing her eyes for a moment, Abigail realised that she did not want him to go. Strangely enough, she found herself enjoying his company. Like his sister, he was one of only a few rare individuals who had managed to see her. Her true self. And as hard as she had worked to perfect her act, Abigail did not wish to live in the shadows any longer, hiding who she truly was.

“Our parents passed on about five years ago,” Lord Amberly said into the silence. “Did my sister tell you that?”

Abigail nodded, relieved when he did not rise to leave. “She did. She said you left England after it happened, travelling the world.”

Lord Amberly nodded. “We needed to get away. Everything around us only reminded us of our parents, of a past we had shared and a future that would forever be different.” He sighed, “We needed a distraction, something to focus on.” His gaze sought hers. “But we still had each other.”

Abigail swallowed, “I have my aunt. She’s wonderful.”

“You care for her greatly.”

Abigail nodded. “And my grandfather. He likes to make people think he is cold-hearted, but…he has suffered his share of losses as well. I suppose if there is no one else to live for, it hardens your heart.”

Lord Amberly nodded. “Opening your heart to someone means the possibility of a new loss.”

“Perhaps that was part of the reason why Winifred refused to acknowledge her feelings,” Abigail suggested. “Perhaps she was simply afraid it would hurt more if she admitted how she felt.”

Remembering the last time she had spoken to her friend−was she truly her friend?−Abigail could not help but address her doubts. “She said that…we would suit each other,” she admitted, lifting her gaze to meet Lord Amberly’s. “She said that was the reason she introduced us. Do you believe that is true?”

Lord Amberly grinned. “That we suit each other?”

“No, that that was her reason for introducing us.”

Lord Amberly’s gaze narrowed, a calculating look coming to his eyes. “You think she introduced us because she wanted to see me well settled? Because of your dowry? Your grandfather’s name and title?”

Abigail drew in a deep breath. “She was the only one who tried to be my friend, and the moment I trusted her…”

“You felt betrayed.”

Abigail nodded, her gaze shifting over Lord Amberly’s face.

His eyes moved about the room, distant and unseeing, directed inward as though he was searching for the words to express what he wished her to know. Then they settled on hers, and Abigail felt her heart warm and her doubts disappear before he had even uttered a single word.

“Despite her rational mind and the strategic way in which she handles life,” Lord Amberly began, shaking his head at the deep difference between him and his sister, “Winifred loves as fiercely as I do, and she is nothing if not honest. I do not for a second doubt that the reason she gave you was her true motivation for introducing us. Whether she is right in her opinion or not, I do not doubt that she believes it.” He smiled at her. “I know she sees you as her friend, and as that, she would never betray you. I give you my word on that.”

Holding his gaze, Abigail felt a new lightness spread through her body. After weeks of hiding and revealing nothing of herself, it felt utterly liberating to be honest with someone. “Thank you,” she whispered, touched when his eyes lit up with relief. “This means a lot to me.”

He nodded, a teasing grin on his face. “When you’re not hiding behind a mask, your emotions are easy to read.”

“Is that so?” Abigail dared him. “If you know so much, my lord, then tell me how I can rid myself of these mind-numbingly boring suitors−as you call them−without dressing up like a bug and squashing their feet every chance I get? Any brilliant thoughts?”

Lord Amberly laughed freely, “If I had any brilliant thoughts, don’t you think I would have already found a way to circumvent my sister’s meddling? I assure you she is as much a nuisance as your suitors are.”

Enjoying herself as she had not in months, Abigail laughed. “Well, if we are indeed in the same boat, then I suppose we ought to work together to rid ourselves of your sister as well as my suitors. Perhaps together we can find a solution.”

Lord Amberly nodded eagerly. “That sounds like a marvellous plan. I−” His face froze in mid-sentence.

“Are you all right?” Abigail asked, frowning at the odd expression on his face.

Then his face split into a smile, and he slapped his hand on his knee in triumph. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, and his eyes settled on hers with a new sense of purpose. “What do you say we enter into a little pact of our own?” Abigail’s gaze narrowed. “Now, don’t look so suspicious! I assure you my intentions are most honourable…at least as far as our shared goal is concerned.”

Suppressing a grin, Abigail said, “I’m not certain I dare ask what this pact encompasses.”

“Then I shall tell you nonetheless.” Grinning from ear to ear, he leaned forward conspiratorially. “You want to be rid of your suitors, and I want to placate my sister. Well, the solution is quite simple: why not act as though we’re on the brink of getting betrothed?”

Abigail’s mouth fell open, and yet, she felt her blood bubble with excitement as every fibre in her body urged her to agree. Being betrothed to Lord Amberly promised to be a lot of fun, even if it was only an act.

Frowning, Abigail wondered at her thoughts. She did not truly wish to be betrothed to him, did she?

“Are you all right?” Lord Amberly asked, interrupting her thoughts. “You have an odd look on your face.”

Snorting, Abigail shook her head. “If you are to be my betrothed, you ought to work on your compliments. After all, no one will believe us if you speak to me in such a way.”

“Granted,” Lord Amberly conceded. “But only if you promise to be yourself. After all, if London’s gentlemen believe you to be all but betrothed to me, there is no need to walk around looking like a bug, now is there?”

Abigail laughed, “I suppose not. Are you afraid it would ruin your reputation if you were seen with the most awful woman in England?”

“Terrified would be a better word,” he teased, then held out his hand to her. “Do we have a deal?”

Holding his gaze, Abigail could not believe what she was about to do. Still, her right hand shot forward and grasped his before she had any chance of stopping it. “We certainly do, my lord.”