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THE FOLLOWING DAY WENTby in such a blur that Abigail hardly had time to think of her horrid encounter with Tobias. James’s parents and siblings arrived around noon, and half an hour later one of the Foxborough carriages rolled up the drive, bringing her parents, Petra, and Lance to Arlington House.
A young vicar who looked like he’d barely gotten out of seminary school conducted the service. James mentioned at one point that he was newly appointed, which probably explained why it took him so long to ensure the special license was up to snuff. Abby barely recalled agreeing to be James’s wife, but she supposed she must have at some point, because everyone was suddenly wishing her well.
She tried to smile and look normal. It was almost as if she were standing outside her own body, watching a tableau play out before her. Thankfully, nobody mentioned the previous day’s occurrence. She’d been especially worried her mother or sister might pull her aside at some point to inquire about her wellbeing. But they didn’t. And then it was suddenly time for them to take their leave.
Abigail stood on the steps of her new home with James by her side and waved goodbye. She felt nothing as she did so. No happiness or sadness. Just an empty void.
“Nobody asked me to tell them what happened,” she whispered as the carriages rolled down the drive.
“I told them not to.”
She was grateful for that, for it had made this day so much easier to bear.
“Shall we have some tea together in the library?” James asked as they headed back inside.
All Abigail wanted to do was retreat to her bedchamber, crawl into bed, and forget the world existed. But he deserved better than that. Especially on his wedding day. So she nodded and let him escort her.
“I’ve always loved this room,” he told her a short while later once the maid who’d brought their tea had departed. Surveying the books in the bookcases lining the walls, James paused occasionally to read the spines while Abigail watched from her spot on a red velvet sofa. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled with a boyish gleam in his eyes. “When I was younger, my siblings and I would play a game of sorts. I can show you, if you like.”
It was quite possibly the very last thing she felt like doing at the moment, but once again, she reminded herself that the least she could do for James was make an effort at being somewhat agreeable. “All right,” she said, wishing she’d managed to answer with a bit more enthusiasm.
But if he noticed her dull tone, he chose not to show it. Instead he grinned, the exuberance in every line of his face causing warmth to seep through her veins. Or maybe that was just the tea starting to have an effect?
“Here’s what we do,” he told her brightly while pulling a series of books off the shelves. “We’re going to mix these up and then take turns finding the words we need.” Piling the books in his arms, he carried them to the table in front of the sofa, then went to a cabinet where he located some paper and a couple of pencils. “You’ll need these as well.” He handed her one of the pencils along with a piece of paper.
Increasingly intrigued, Abigail straightened her spine and waited for him to sit. He glanced at the vacant spot beside her, but rather than claim it, he lowered himself to an adjacent chair. A twinge of disappointment raced through her. On one hand she wanted him close, but on the other, she didn’t. It was most disconcerting and horribly confusing.
“Now then,” he said, distracting her from her thoughts and emotions. “You have to pick a book at random, flip it open, select the first word from the first paragraph that draws your eye, and write it down. You then pick another book and pick the second word from the first paragraph that draws your eye. And so on.”
“Sounds simple enough,” she said.
“It is. Shall I go first?”
“By all means.” She reached for her teacup and drank while James selected his first book. Placed face down on the table and with their spines turned sideways, she was unable to read their titles.
“Your turn,” he said about five minutes later. A lopsided grin pulled at his lips and for half a second, Abigail forgot her ordeal with Tobias and how much she now dreaded being intimate with her husband. All she knew was that her heart was swelling, tripling in size and filling with warmth.
But then the clock on the fireplace mantle chimed, breaking the spell.
She shook her head and reached for a book. Plato’sThe Republic, she realized. Flipping it open at random, she picked her first word and wrote it down.
“What do you have?” James asked once she’d finished leafing throughA Midsummer Night’s Dream, Henry IV, Pride and Prejudice, Northanger Abbey,The Iliad,andDomestic Medicine.
“Nothing that makes any sense.”
“You’re allowed to rearrange the words in any order.”
Pursing her lips, Abigail studied the seven words she’d jotted down. She tilted her head in thought and then suddenly smiled when she noticed a possible sentence. Clearing her throat, she read, “Caesar must go equipped with violent words.”
James laughed. “That’s brilliant.” Eyes gleaming with mischief, he gave his attention to his own piece of paper. “Here’s mine.” He met her gaze fleetingly and then read, “These brokenhearted people have beheaded your furniture.”
Abigail felt the edge of her mouth start to twitch and then a wave of energy rose up her throat, demanding release, and before she knew it she was laughing so hard her belly began to ache. “Goodness, that’s good,” she gasped as she fell back against the sofa and gave her eyes a quick wipe.
“Shall we have another go?” James asked. He was watching her with keen amusement and...something she couldn’t quite place though it did something rather lovely to her insides.
“Absolutely,” she said with a smile. “But this time I get to go first.”
