The duke has suffered another seizure. Ask for duchess to come home.
Her heart seized with worry. Turning, she told the servants. “Don’t bring the suitcases in. We are traveling on to the abbey.”
And she prayed she was not too late. If something happened to Harold while she was away, she would never forgive herself.
A WEEK LATER, GABRIELsat morosely in his lonely study, contemplating the calendar, listening to the ticktock of the clock marking the unrelenting passage of time.
It was Christmas Eve. He could take a train and be at the duke’s estate before nightfall. If he dared.
She had left for the abbey the same day they had arrived. Not giving him time to plan another encounter. He hadn’t been able to see her again since. Her sudden departure had bewildered him. Why would she leave so soon, when she must have been exhausted? He had worried something was wrong.
His worries proved legitimate when two days later he had received a message from the duke informing him he had suffered another minor apoplexy, but was better now. The duke had reiterated Hannah’s invitation and added that it would give him great pleasure to have Gabriel visit.
Damn it, what to do? What was the right thing to do in this situation? He ached to see her. But it would be torture to have her near and not be able to touch her, hug her, kiss her. And he would not. He had bent his own code of honor with this bargain, but there were some lines he would not cross. He would not touch her while under her husband’s roof.
And then there was the issue of his complicated feelings about the duke. His father. The word still felt awkward, foreign to his psyche. But what he had told Hannah that day by the beach was true. He wished to get to know the duke better, to spend more time with him. Have some memories. There might not be much time left to do that.
Before he could change his mind, he jumped from the chair, calling for his valet.
“Thakur!” When the valet presented himself, he ordered, “Help me pack, we are going to spend Christmas at Stanhope Abbey.”
Thakur gave him a curious expression but thankfully refrained from comment. In less than an hour, they were leaving for the train station.
There was no time to inform the duke of his arrival. He only hoped they would be glad for the surprise.
HANNAH SAW THE CARRIAGEcrossing the gate of Stanhope Abbey and jumped to her feet. Excitement lent speed to her steps as she walked towards the entrance hall. Only decorum prevented her from breaking into a run. She had no reason to think it was Gabriel. He had not accepted the invitation, and she got the impression he planned to decline it. But who else could it be? No one would dare to show up uninvited on Christmas Eve. She froze with fear at the sudden thought it might be Mr. Blackwell. What if he had decided to pay them a visit unannounced? She wouldn’t put it past him...
The front door opened, allowing the biting wind to sneak into the house, and with it... Gabriel. Her heart somersaulted at the sight of him, windblown, travel weary, and as handsome as ever. She breezed down the stairs, her gaze on him, a huge smile of pure joy on her face.
But she skidded to a halt a few paces in front of him when he lifted his gaze to her and sketched a perfect bow.
“Your Grace, I wish you and the duke a Happy Christmas and offer my most sincere gratitude for your gracious invitation.”
His formality stopped her in her tracks. Her smile slid from her face. But, of course, he had to be formal for the benefit of the servants. She was such a ninny! In another second, she would have launched herself into his arms.
“Lord Brentworth,” she responded with a curtsy, extending her hand.
God, but this formality was awful. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. His every movement was impeccably proper, but there was fire in his eyes when he looked at her, when he touched his lips to her hand.
She had to suppress a whimper at the effect such a simple touch had on her. She had been starving for him, for his touch, for the simple delight of his presence.
“It is a pleasure to have you. I’m sure the duke will be very pleased you accepted our invitation.”
Turning to the servants, she ordered Gabriel’s luggage to be brought to the room he had occupied the last time he visited.
“Your room will be ready in a moment,” she informed him. “Would you care to take refreshments with me in the parlor?”
“It will be my pleasure, Duchess.”
After ordering tea to be brought, she led him to the front parlor. The very image of a proper hostess, when inside she was dying to run into his arms, take refuge in the strength of his chest...
“How does he fare?” he asked, pulling her away from her lurid imagination. She detected genuine concern, his tone softening.
“He is better. Still tires easily. He spends most days in bed. He will most likely come down for dinner tonight when he finds out you have arrived.”
They had entered the parlor, and she left the door open, as was proper, but sat as far away from the entrance as possible. Here by the window, they could have some measure of privacy.
“And how are you?” Said with such warmth, with such deep caring that her heart squeezed. It was the first time he had allowed his feelings to color his tone since arriving. And suddenly he was again her tender lover. Her beloved.
