Page 44 of A Perfect Gentleman

Graeme collapsed against her, his flesh quivering and damp with sweat. And that, he thought with a deep satisfaction, was a husbandly duty done sufficiently.

chapter 15

Abby awakened in a strange bed in a strange room. Disoriented, she sat up. It was a man’s room, the furniture heavy and dark, men’s brushes on the dresser, a shaving stand across the room from her. Graeme’s bedroom.

She remembered it all now—the blood running down that man’s face, the hard shove in the back, the cold water closing over her head, the panic exploding in her as she fought not to breathe it in. And Graeme’s arms closing around her, lifting her up and pulling her to safety.

After that, her memory was a trifle spotty—flashes of a speeding carriage ride, of Graeme saying her name, the warmth of the fire and Graeme’s face looming over her, sharp with anxiety. She remembered, too, much later, when Graeme had joined her in this bed. A smile curved her lips. Yes, that she remembered quite well.

Abby glanced around, and there, as if by magic, was her dressing gown laid over the foot of the bed. She was tying it around her a moment later when the explanation for the robe’s presence opened the door and craned her head around it.

“Molly.” Abby smiled. “What are you doing here?”

Her maid came the rest of the way in. “He ordered me to bring your things here.” She sniffed her disdain. “But you just say the word, and I’ll whisk them all back into the trunks and we’ll be off.”

“He did, did he?” Abby smiled. “No, I think we are fine right where we are.”

“Hmph. I don’t trust him, and that’s a fact.”

“I got that impression. Yet you told him where I was last night.” When the older woman began to bristle, she added hastily, “I am very glad you did. I would have drowned if Montclair hadn’t arrived in time. I’m merely surprised you entrusted him with the information.”

“Well, the devil you know . . .” Molly shrugged. “They’ve made up a room for you in here.” She went to a door in the side wall and opened it into another spacious chamber.

“Ah, the countess’s bedroom, I take it.” Abby surveyed the adjoining room. It was a much more feminine room. The furniture was still dark, but its lines were more graceful, less massive, and the wallpaper was an elegant blue-and-white pattern, the draperies a matching blue.

She would have liked a lighter wood, but no doubt it would be considered sacrilege to change anything. She would not be here long, in any case. Once she was pregnant, their goal reached, doubtless she would not be living with Graeme.

The thought lowered her mood, and Abby set it aside. There was no reason to spoil what she had with thoughts of what would come later. She dressed with Molly’s help and made her way downstairs in search of food. She was, she discovered, ravenous.

Glancing around, she saw that she was alone in the corridor. She began to waltz, humming a tune, making her way down the wide hall in great, swooping circles, and as she danced she sang. She was still humming beneath her breath when she entered the dining room. Abby was disappointed to see that only the dowager countess and a small, dowdy woman were there.

“Was that singing I heard?” Lady Eugenia asked in astonished tones.

“Yes, I believe I was singing.” Abby smiled as she took the seat the footman held out for her. “Good morning, Countess.” She turned a little inquiringly toward the other woman.

“Mrs. Ponsonby,” Lady Eugenia explained. “She is the widow of my late cousin. Philomena, allow me to introduce you to Montclair’s wife.”

“Oh, yes, we have met.” The small woman smiled shyly and bobbed her head, reminding Abigail forcibly of a sparrow. “At your wedding, Lady Montclair.”

“What nonsense, Philomena,” the countess said. “That was ten years ago; I am sure she wouldn’t remember meeting you.”

“No, no, of course not.” Philomena let out a little titter. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember so small a thing.”

Abby felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman. “Please, call me Abigail. I should remember meeting you. But I have forgotten most of what happened then.”

Lady Eugenia gave her a narrow look, but apparently could not decide if there had been a barb in Abby’s words. “You are looking well this morning, considering your adventure last night.”

“Yes, I am quite recovered, thank you.”

“You must have been terribly frightened,” Mrs. Ponsonby said, her eyes wide. “I am sure I would have been.”

“It was rather scary. I am very fortunate Graeme was there.” Abigail added casually, “I had thought I might see him here.”

“Montclair left the house some time ago.”

“Oh?” Abigail waited, but Lady Eugenia did not elaborate. “Where did he go?”

Graeme’s grandmother looked pained. “I am sure I don’t know. I never question a gentleman about his plans.”