Chapter Twenty-One

Town Tattler

Kidnapping!  Press gangs!  Vile men roaming the countryside!  And a daring rescue carried out by a former leading rogue of London!

Such scandal to include in my final column of the season, dear readers.  In fact, had I not been there to witness the entire thing myself, I scarcely would have believed it.  But happen it did and in such dramatic fashion!  Though I am happy to report that as of this morning, Miss Abigail Northrup - who is also likely soon to be the new Duchess of Hathaway - is safely ensconced back at Fairhaven and preparing for this evening's rescheduled grand masquerade ball.  After all, they could hardly have continued with the revelry after such a horrible incident, now could they?  Thankfully Lady Lucy Enwright is a duchess with as much sense as she has grace and was intelligent enough to bring an end to the ball when it became evident that foul things were afoot.

As for our own Comte De La Croix, I am given to understand that he is already on his way to America as I write this.  It is my feverent hope that he can change his life for the better and return to us a different man, his reparations for his crimes against Miss Northrup paid in full.  His is a sad tale and, for as much as he is the villain in this tale, he is also the victim in another that stretches back farther than most of us can remember.

I will confess that until last night, I had not heard of this Mr. Burleigh and I can say that I am thankful for it.  Also, if I never hear from him again it will be too soon.  Though I am assured that Bow Street is holding the man on several counts, including fraud against the Henry & Sons shipping company.  Which, of course, is all linked back to Miss Northrup.

Such a lovely woman to be involved in such a wretched scandal.  But that is the way of things in this odd, new world we live in, is it not, dear readers?  A world where the long-held proprieties are not respected and all manner of ill-breeding is allowed to flourish.  As I have said before, this may be my final regular Season column as your faithful correspondent regarding all things relating to the Upper Ten Thousand.  I have yet to decide if I shall return, but only time will tell.

Until then, my dear readers, have an ever so delightful summer and, at the very least, I shall see you all at least once during the Little Season.

-Madame C

Abigail's hands shook slightly as she stood at the top of the stairs, a small domino mask in her hand.  She couldn't bring herself to put on the elaborate mask from the night before.  It seemed wrong somehow, especially after the glorious amethyst gown had been ruined during her kidnapping.  The mask also held bad memories for her.  Although she was no longer fearful of the Comte or of Burleigh, she had decided that she would feel better if people could recognize her.  Behind the other mask?  She could have been anyone and that made her decidedly uneasy.

Thankfully, Lucy understood and just that morning had requested that all of the guests use small domino masks for the rescheduled ball.  Other than Lady Josephine, whose gaudy diamond encrusted mask had been tittered at behind fans the night before, all of the guests were more than happy to oblige.

Abigail's kidnapping from Fairhaven by one of their own had shocked - and in some cases terrified - many of the guests.  That a man they had invited into their homes could have done such a thing was horrifying to them and the guests were more than willing to do whatever was necessary to calm fears.  Especially Abigail's fears, as she was enjoying a new popularity among the party guests.  Suddenly, she was not just a merchant's daughter, but one of them.  Though that might also have had a little something to do with Adam's thinly veiled hints that morning that the two of them were all but officially betrothed.

Actually, he still hadn't asked her to marry him yet, but Abigail was now certain that he would.  He simply needed to work himself up to it.  That was Adam's way and likely always would be.  It was also one of the many things she loved about him.

"Are you ready, Abby?"  Charlotte appeared beside her, decked out in another gorgeous Madame LaVallier creation, this one a gold and cream concoction that made her friend look like an angel.  She also wore a small golden domino that enhanced rather than detracted from her appearance.

Abigail's own gown was a stunning topaz Madame LaVallier creation, with heavy beading on the bodice and crystals stitched along the hem so that she appeared to shimmer when she walked.  Her mask was gold as well but topped by a single black feather with golden tips.  She had thought the gown extravagant when Elsie had insisted on packing it for the house party.  Now, however, she was extremely glad her maid had been so thoughtful.

"I am.  I think."  Abigail's gloved hand gripped the ornately carved newel post for a moment before she forced herself to release it.  She was not worried about another kidnapping.  She was however, worried about seeing Adam.

They hadn't spoken much since the night before, only a few words in passing, as he had been behind closed doors with Enwright, Blackmore, and several other men throughout the day.  He hadn't even emerged when Sophia had challenged Abigail to a rematch in battledore - which Abigail had handily won, mostly because it was clear that Sophia was distracted to a fault.

Charlotte patted her friend on the hand.  "All will be well, Abby.  You will see."  Then she winked in a rather conspiratorial fashion.  "I have it on good authority that tonight will be nothing short of magical for you."

That gave Abigail pause, for Lord Underhill had also been in the meetings with Adam and the others.  Had he spoken to Charlotte and given her some hint about what was to come that night?

There was little time to ponder the matter however, for another group of ladies came down the hallway and Abigail was swept down the stairs with them.  Tonight's entrance into the ball was far less formal than the previous evening's had been and the gaggle of women quickly pressed on down the hallway and into the ballroom.  Abigail would not have been able to escape even if she had wanted to, for Charlotte, along with Lady Adelaide, had linked arms with her, pulling her along with the tide of women.

Once inside the ballroom, the group fanned out and Lord Underhill came to claim Charlotte almost as soon as they entered.  Some man that Abigail didn't recognize beckoned to Lady Adelaide.  The other woman seemed to notice the gentleman however, for she waggled her fingers happily at the man and crossed the room to join him, leaving Abigail alone in the crowd.

She was not alone for long, however.  Before she could even turn to look for one of her friends, Lord Hunt was before her, bowing low and asking her to dance.  She could not refuse, especially as she truly liked the man.  She hoped that some day he might find a woman who could overlook his destitute state and see the good man beneath.  For he truly was a wonderful man.  He was simply not for her.

When their dance concluded, Lord Blackmore appeared before her and took Hunt's place.  In fact, for the better part of an hour, Abigail was not without partners.  One gentleman after another asked for her hand in a dance before the previous one had scarcely ended.  She even danced with some men, like Lord Strathaven, that she did not even know, but who were extremely determined to lead her onto the floor for at least one dance.

She also caught glimpses of her friends, including Charlotte who was in Lord Underhill's arms and looking for all the world like a woman in love.  She didn't see Lady Josephine or Lady Sophia, though that was not surprising.  Josephine was still pouting over the issue of her mask and Sophia had provoked another spat with Adam just as the light, cold supper that preceded the ball had been served.

Sophia had been in tears, begging Adam to reconsider his position on Lord Selby, but her brother had held firm, this time backed by several Society men including Lord Blackmore and Lord Enwright.  Both men were rather fearsome looking, especially Blackmore with his scarred visage.  The confrontation had ended in more tears and threats, and Abigail knew that Adam was growing weary of his sister's hysterics over the issue.  Not even Sophia and Adam's mother could reason with the girl.

Abigail knew from her own experience - and the experience of at least one of her friends back in Plymouth - that if Sophia's tactics did not change soon, an arranged marriage would likely be her fate.  Though with whom, Abigail could not imagine.  The young woman was out of control and becoming worse.

Sophia had even dared to challenge Blackmore when he had offered to escort her to the ball that night.  It had been a gallant offer, especially for a man who had nothing in the disagreement and was instead attempting to be a gentleman and smooth over a bad situation.

Instead, Sophia had insulted the man, reminding him that he was a military man who worked for Bow Street and was not in line to inherit, unlike Selby who had two titles awaiting him when the time came.  In fact, she had all but thrown back in Blackmore's face, that in her opinion anyway, he was hardly even a true gentleman, despite his noble birth.

To his credit, Blackmore had paled a bit, his scar growing an angry red, but he had somehow managed to retain his cheerful demeanor and instead offered to find a young man that Sophia approved of to be her escort if he would not do.  Sophia had sniffed and turned on her heel, all but giving Blackmore the cut direct.  It had not seemed to bother him, however, as at the moment, he was near Wallflower Row laughing and joking with several lords and ladies as if he hadn't a care in the word.

In fact, the ballroom was positively overflowing with men - and ladies - having a delightful evening.

Yet the one man that Abigail wished to see, she did not.  And when a limping Lord Buxton finally allowed her to take a break and led her to the refreshment table, she was beginning to think that Adam had changed his mind after all.  Despite everything that had transpired between them the night before, she wondered if he had changed his mind and decided that he did not wish to wed her after all.  For if he did want to marry her, why was he not here?

Accepting a glass of lemonade from Buxton, Abigail nodded in thanks and was about to make a comment on his dancing - which was truly horrid due to his limp, though she would never say such a thing to him directly - when the man was gone and there before her was Adam.  And he was smiling in a way she had never seen him do before.

"Your grace," she squeaked as he plucked the glass from her hand.

"Adam," he corrected her as he took her hand and led her back to the dance floor where a waltz was just beginning.

"But we are in public," she hissed.

Gently, he took her hand in his and moved her into the proper position.  His hand at her waist all but burned her through the thin fabric of her dress.  "I find that I do not care.  Especially from the woman who is to be my wife."

Abigail felt her stomach fall to her feet - in the proverbial sense, of course.  Out of all of the places she could have imagined him proposing, the middle of the grand masked ball was not one of them.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head.  "Dance, Abby.  For now, do no more than that.  Clear your mind and simply follow my lead."

That, of course, was easier said than done, but Abigail did her best.  As the music swelled around them, she allowed Adam to move her through the steps of the dance, their bodies all but swaying against each other when he pulled her far closer than was proper.  It was no wonder the old tabbies thought this dance so scandalous!  It put all sorts of wonderfully wicked ideas into a lady's head.  Then Adam pulled her into a dizzying turn and she forgot about everything but the music and the powerful man holding her.

They twirled about the floor, making the edges of her vision blur, the flickering candles little more than streaks of light at the edge of her vision.  The other dancers and guests became little more than swirls of color on the sides of the room, all of them fading into the distance until there was only Adam.

This was love, she knew.  This feeling of completeness and rightness that washed over her in gentle waves.  Yes, it was the passion of the night before, more like a stormy ocean tossed by fierce waves.  But it was also the calmness of a safe harbor as well.  It was finding a place to belong, someone to give her heart to.  That someone was Adam.  And a fortnight ago, she would have never thought it possible.

"Come with me, Abby," he whispered in her ear as he guided her closer to the edges of the ballroom.  If anyone noticed or commented on their discreet departure, she didn't notice.  Or care.  All she saw was the man she loved, and she would follow him anywhere he asked.

Not unsurprisingly, he led her out onto the terrace which was illuminated by hundreds of lanterns.  In the distance, she could hear the night insects singing their merry tune and the air was heavy with the scent of the jasmine that grew just about everywhere along the back lawn of Fairhaven.  In the distance, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled with another impending storm, just as it had last night, and, unable to help herself, Abigail shivered.

"Easy, love.  I have you."  Adam snatched up a lantern from the ones scattered about the steps and took Abigail's hand with his other.  "I shan't let anyone or anything hurt you ever again."

When he tugged at her hand, urging her to follow him across the lawn, Abigail went, feeling utterly safe in his presence.  Though the myriad of lanterns on wrought iron poles that lined nearly every inch of the back lawn and gardens also helped quite a lot.

Finally, Adam led Abigail to the same garden bench where she had been seated that morning when they had first met.  Her heart tripped in her chest and she knew.  This was the moment she had been anticipating.  He was bringing her back to where it all began for them and she fell even more in love with him than she had been mere moments before.  After she was seated on the bench, Adam settled in beside her before taking her hand.

"Back to where we started," she joked, suddenly nervous.

"It seemed appropriate."  He glanced around.  "Though I do not think there are any hedgehogs about this evening.  I can find one if you like, however."

Abigail shook her head.  "No, I do not think it necessary."  She bit her lip.  "Adam, I..."

"Shhh."  He placed a finger to her lips before falling to one knee before her.  "I had this all rehearsed you know.  Even spent the afternoon practicing with Underhill and Enwright."

She laughed.  "That is something I would have liked to see."

"No, you would not have.  Trust me.  Underhill makes a poor lady."  Adam shook his head.  "But now I am mucking it up.  Again.  Just as I do everything."

"You are not."  Abigail took his hands in hers.  "You are simply being yourself.  And that is the man I fell in love with.  Not some perfect and pretentious duke, but one who strips naked in a garden and has a bit of a spotty reputation.  That is the Adam Reynolds I love and no other."

Reaching up, Adam pulled her to the ground beside him.  He didn't know why.  It simply seemed like the thing to do.  "And that is the Abigail Northrup I fell in love with.  The woman who can see the good in me, who sees more than the dastardly duke who uses women and cares for no one."

"We all make mistakes," she whispered.  "No one is perfect."

"Ah, but you, my darling, are perfect for me."  He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and drew out a large ruby and diamond betrothal ring.  "Which is why I want you to become my duchess."  Abigail wanted to respond immediately but he rushed on before she could.  "The ring was my grandmother's.  My mother never wore it.  Said it held bad memories for her, whatever that means.  But she has always carried it with her since I came of age in the hopes that I might one day meet a woman who would see not just the duke but the man beneath.  That woman is you, Abigail.  Please say yes."

There was, of course, only one thing Abigail could say.  "Yes, Adam!  Of course I will marry you!  You did not even have to ask after all that we have been through."

Adam shook his head as he slid the ring onto Abigail's finger.  "Ah, but I did, my love.  Because I have not always been very clear when dealing with women in the past.  I did not say what I truly meant, often times to my detriment."  She knew he was thinking of the disaster with Lady Diana.  "I refuse to allow that to be the case with you.  For I will always be clear with you, pet.  And if you do not understand me, then just ask.  For I want nothing to come between us.  Ever."

"Nor do I."  Abigail reached up and kissed him lightly, her lips brushing across his so faintly that it was barely a whisper.  She would have liked more, but there was something she needed to say as well.  "And I will never doubt your heart, Adam.  For I know you, and I know that you are more than your reputation.  You are a living, breathing man, and one that I will be proud to call my husband.

This time when she kissed him, it wasn't simply a light brush of affection.  It was a kiss filled with passion and promise and everything that she was feeling but could not put into words.  This man was her future.  Her life.  Her love.  And she never wished to be parted from him again.

Adam's blood raced in his veins at Abigail's words.  She loved him!  She had agreed to be his wife!  Everything that he had never thought to have was now in his grasp.  Love and family.  A life that was truly his and not dictated by a reputation that had haunted him for so long.

There was, however, one more obstacle standing in the way of their happiness.  Her family.  And what would happen tomorrow when the house party ended.  Suddenly, it was imperative that nothing keep him from Abigail ever again.

"Run away with me," Adam urged as he pulled back from her sweet kisses.

"Tonight?"  Abigail seemed surprised but she should not have been, for they had already touched upon the issue the night before.

He nodded.  "Now.  I can have my carriage brought around and we can be off for Scotland before anyone at the ball realizes that we are gone.  We can make it there in a few days and be back well in time to speak with you family.  Once we are wed, there is little they can do but welcome me into the family."  He hoped.

"Yes."  Once more, there was no other answer she could give.  For when the sun rose again, Miss Cutwright would likely attempt to pack Abigail off to Plymouth and back to her family.  She would be torn away from Adam for who knew how long.  No, that was unacceptable.  This was the only way.  It was also what she wanted.

Abigail had wasted enough of her life sitting on the sidelines, waiting to be seen for more than just her fortune.  Adam had given her that.  And more.  No other man ever could or ever would.

"Just to be clear, you are saying yes to Gretna?" Adam asked.  "We can have a proper wedding when we return, you know.  Whatever you like.  It is just that I cannot..."

"You do not have to say the words.  I know."  And Abigail would not have it any other way, either.

Adam rose to his feet, pulling her with him.  "Let us be off then."  He turned and began to walk away.

"Adam."  Abigail still stood next to the garden bench.

"Yes?"

"Just this. I love you.  Never forget that."  Then she launched herself at him and kissed him.

For a moment, Adam allowed himself to deepen the kiss, his lips tracing the seam of her lips.  When she opened for him, he thrust his tongue inside and stoked her intimately.  Just as he would do with other parts of her body soon enough.  Once they were wed.

When he pulled back, he was delighted to find that her eyes were glazed with passion.  "And I love you, Abby.  And I always will."

This time, when Adam took Abigail's hand, she allowed him to lead her off into the depths of the night toward the stables.  And on towards the rest of her life.  Together.