Page 97 of A Perfect Gentleman

“I desired you from the moment I saw you standing in that ballroom in the midst of your innumerable admirers. I wanted them all at the devil and you in my bed. Your offer was temptation, not force. I was angry because I didn’t want to give in to you, and I feared I couldn’t resist.”

“Really?” Abby’s smile was impish. She swung her leg over his hips, straddling him, her fingertips straying over his chest. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“No?” A half smile played upon his lips, and his lids grew heavy, his eyes dark and hot with promise. He laid his hands on her legs and ran them slowly up her body. “Then perhaps I ought to show you.”

She moved against him, eliciting a low groan as he pulsed and hardened beneath her. “Yes. I think perhaps you should.” Abby bent to kiss him.

chapter 32

Abby awoke the next morning feeling a little sore and wonderfully replete. It was a bit of a disappointment to look over and see that Graeme was not there. But it was like him to thoughtfully slip out without awakening her.

She stretched lazily like a cat and folded her arms behind her head, contemplating the delightful turn her life had taken last night. Why had Graeme come? Had it truly been just because he missed her? Her smile spread. She had the feeling she might not ever stop smiling.

She sat up, running her fingers through her hair, then reached for her dressing gown, loving the glide of the satin lining over her sensitized skin. He had not said he loved her, but Abby could live with that. He had been hurt by her offer of freedom, and that was enough. He wanted her, and that, too, was enough.

It would be nice, of course, to hear him say he loved her, only her, and that Laura Hinsdale had no hold on his heart. She yearned to know that he felt for her what she felt for him. But for now, for this moment, she would bask in the glow of his desire, in the knowledge that he had ridden from London just to be with her.

She had enough love for both of them.

Abby swung out of bed and started toward her room, smiling to herself at the sight of their clothes scattered over the floor. She paused to pick them up and toss them onto the bed, then continued to her room.

Her mood was too sunny for even Molly to dampen—and surprisingly, her maid didn’t say a sour thing about Graeme arriving last night. Abby sailed downstairs on her cloud of goodwill, so happy that she beamed at Lady Eugenia and Mrs. Ponsonby as well as Mirabelle.

“Abby, darling,” Mirabelle trilled. “Isn’t it wonderful that Graeme arrived?”

“Yes. I’m very happy.” She loaded up her plate, humming beneath her breath.

“Oh, dear, now we’re to have singing again?” Lady Eugenia asked.

Abby laughed. “I’m afraid so.”

“Don’t be so stuffy, Eugenia,” Graeme’s mother said, surprising them all. “I love to hear Abby sing. It raises my spirits.”

“Where is Graeme?” Normally Abby would not have exposed herself by asking after him, but this morning she felt too good to care.

His grandmother sniffed. “Off chasing his foolish notions.”

“He went to call on Mr. Cumbrey, dear,” Mirabelle explained.

“Cumbrey!” Abby stared, her happy certainty beginning to crumble. Was that why Graeme had come home? “He found out the vicar lives nearby?”

“Yes, I told him a few minutes ago,” Mirabelle replied. “It was the oddest thing. I asked him what he’d been doing, you know, as one does. He said he’d been talking to all those men who helped Reginald with that charity. Graeme seems to think that it would help keep you safe.”

“Poppycock,” Lady Eugenia snorted.

“Yes, well, I didn’t really understand it, either, but he was obviously feeling at a loss about the whole matter. So I suggested he talk to Cumbrey; the dear man was always so helpful to Reginald. Wasn’t he, Philomena?”

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Ponsonby nodded. “He was. He was most fond of Montclair and of George, too.” Unsurprisingly, her eyes glinted with tears.

“Anyway,” Mirabelle hurried on, “when I said that, Graeme literally jumped up from his chair and exclaimed, ‘You know where he is? Why didn’t you tell me?’ Well, he’d never asked, had he?”

“Oh, my!” Abby began to laugh. Graeme’s mother stared at her, which only made her laugh harder. Abby brought her napkin up to her mouth to muffle the sound.

“You’re acting just as odd as Graeme did,” Mirabelle said in amazement.

“They’re both mad as hatters,” the dowager countess proclaimed.

“I’m sorry.” Abby struggled to control her laughter. “It’s just that we have been hunting all over for Mr. Cumbrey.”