#
IT WAS PAST MIDNIGHTby the time James escorted Abigail upstairs. They’d taken dinner in the library while using the books to create additional sentences, likehysterical old gentlemen love to do justice. As he’d hoped, the exercise had allowed Abigail to forget the memories that plagued her so she could relax and have fun. For a few wonderful hours, she’d returned to being the vibrant woman he’d come to adore, and this gave him hope.
Reaching her bedchamber door, he stepped back and offered a bow. She needed time, perhaps more than he wanted to accept at the moment. But he knew patience would be the only way forward if they were to stand a chance of happiness together. Her mind and soul had taken a terrible blow. He’d known that the moment he looked into her eyes yesterday at the inn and saw nothing but hopeless despair. But he wasn’t going to give up on her or on them. He’d do whatever he had to in order to help her conquer the fear that now gripped her.
“Sleep well, Abby.” He would not enter her room or do anything else to upset the joy they’d found in each other’s company this evening. “I look forward to breakfasting with you in the morning.”
“As do I,” she told him. A sad smile touched her lips and for a brief moment he thought she might say something else. But then she turned away and the bedchamber door closed, leaving him alone in the hallway.
James blew out a breath and continued toward his own room. The mountain he had to climb was steep, and so far, he’d taken only a couple of steps. Tomorrow he’d take two more. Hopefully in the right direction.
But when he woke in the morning, he wasn’t quite sure if she’d favor a ride to an old castle ruin or a picnic down by the lake, so he decided to ask instead of deciding for her.
“Could we not just stay here?” she asked while buttering her toast. When she’d arrived in the dining room ten minutes earlier, her hesitant expression had made him realize that whatever progress he thought he’d made last night had been miniscule. Telling her that he’d received word of Chesterfield’s arrest didn’t help, but James was determined to be open and honest with her, even though he knew she hated being reminded of what her former friend had done.
“We could, but I’d much rather take advantage of the good weather. Autumn will come before we know it, and then we’ll be forced to remain indoors.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Abigail took a bite of her toast. Her gaze, James noted, was aimed at the table instead of at him. “Could we not combine the two options then?”
Instinctively, he reached for her hand, then stopped himself and let his own fall. “Of course we can.” He leaned back in his chair and watched as she drank some tea. “I’ll ask Cook to prepare a basket for us and make sure the carriage is ready to leave by...shall we say eleven?”
“All right.”
“All right,” he echoed. Castle Islington was exactly the sort of place to stir one’s imagination with endless possibilities of adventure, mystery, and romance. As children, he and his siblings had loved exploring what remained of the structure while their parents reclined on a blanket nearby, either napping or reading in the shade of an elm.
And because of this sentimental attachment he had to the place, he was glad to see the excitement in Abigail’s eyes when he handed her down from the carriage later and she took her first look at what had once been, to him, a pirate ship, a Roman fortress, and a buried temple.
“This is splendid,” she said as she walked toward it. Most of the walls still stood, some more intact than others, but the roof, floors, and doors – anything made of wood– had long since rotted away. Ivy and other creepers covered the stone in a blanket of green, and moss grew between the cracks in the shade. “Is it safe to climb those steps?”
“I think so,” James said as he crossed to the stairs leading up to the battlements, “but let me go first.” He didn’t like that there was no railing – an odd thing since he’d not given the lack of safety measures any thought as a child.
“When was the last time you came here?” she asked.
“Ten years ago, I should think. Charles wasn’t with us because he’d decided to spend that summer travelling the Continent. So it was just William, Sarah, Athena, and me.” He grinned as he recalled how disastrous that outing had been. “The weather looked fine when we set out, but then, out of nowhere, it started pouring. Everyone got soaked and...” He laughed. “As we hurried back to the carriage, Athena slipped on the grass, landed on her bottom, and skidded at least a yard.” He stepped onto the battlement and offered Abigail his hand, which she thankfully took. “Of course, her dress was ruined, and since she’s never liked being the odd one out, she quickly made sure we joined her.”
Abigail stared at him wide-eyed. “How on earth did she manage that?”
“By throwing mud at us.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “Sounds awful, I know, but it was all in good sport.” Turning, he braced himself with his feet apart and allowed the view to impress him. Abigail’s hand was still nestled firmly in his, so he hardly dared move for fear she’d pull away. “Now tell me honestly,” he murmured with every intention of keeping her mind on him and this place. “What do you think?”
She was silent for a while before she finally said, “I think it’s glorious.” And then she turned to him with the brightest smile he’d ever seen, and it was all he could do not to lean in and kiss her.
But since he feared that would ruin the moment, he simply replied with, “I think so as well.”
#
“IWAS WONDERING,” ABIGAILsaid later that afternoon when they returned to Arlington House, “if you’d like to play a game of chess with me.” She’d enjoyed exploring the castle with James, then sitting on a blanket with him afterward while they ate their lunch. They’d talked about their family in greater detail than before, and she’d shared some of the pranks she and her siblings had played on each other. Now that they were home, she felt the magic of the day start to fade and the weight of reality take its place. But if James was willing to help her forget, then maybe she could ignore it for just a while longer.
“Sounds like a challenge,” he said as he led the way into a cozy parlor. Crossing to the sideboard, he picked up a pair of glasses while she took a seat on a chair upholstered in pale green silk damask. “Drink?”
She wasn’t used to imbibing except during meals, yet the prospect of doing so now with her husband was remarkably tempting. “Just a small one, please.”
The cheeky smile with which he responded was thoroughly dashing. And she wished. Oh, how she wished, that Lance had never brought Tobias home from Eton with him all those years ago, that she’d never known him and he’d never had the chance to ruin her wedding, her life, her marriage.
“Abby?”
