Page 104 of A Perfect Gentleman

At the train station he bought her ticket home despite her protestations, saying, “Laura, please, it is the least I can do after all you have done for me today.” He looked down at her seriously. “You saved my wife. My child. I cannot ever repay you.”

“I was happy to do so.” Laura reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “You must believe that, Graeme.”

“I do.” He paused, then went on, “Laura, you know that I care for you. You were long my dearest companion, and you will always have a place in my heart.”

“I know. And you in mine.” She smiled. “Graeme, dear friend, I know what you are trying to tell me.”

“Good, because I’m not entirely sure I do.”

“You have fallen in love with your wife,” Laura said simply. “That’s a good thing. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” He heard the surprise in his own voice. “I really am.”

“I won’t pretend I wasn’t sad to lose you, or that I haven’t missed you many a time over the past years. But that was a long time ago, and we are different people now. We’ve made other lives for ourselves. I am your friend, and I hope that you are mine, as well. But you love Abigail.”

“I do.” An almost conspiratorial grin flashed across Graeme’s face. “I love her more than I ever thought possible.”

“And she loves you.”

“Do you think so? I—I have made so many mistakes with her.”

“I’m sure. Anyone who sees her look at you knows it. And if you’ve made mistakes, I’m sure she will forgive you. You are an easy man to forgive.”

“Like my father.” He shrugged.

“You are a far better man than your father, Graeme.” Laura patted his arm. “I promise you.”

Laura’s words were enough to keep his spirits buoyed all the way back to the estate. There he was slowed down by his mother and grandmother, who assured him that Abby was upstairs asleep and that they desperately needed to hear his account of the afternoon’s events.

“You know I treasure you, Mother,” he said, gently removing her hand from his arm. “And I will tell you everything in the most minute detail later, but right now, I must go to my wife.”

Lady Eugenia started to protest, but after her initial surprise, his mother only smiled. “Of course, darling.”

He took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the top, he saw that Abby’s maid was standing outside his door as if on guard. Little as he looked forward to dealing with the woman, it gave him a spurt of satisfaction to know that Abby had once again chosen to sleep in his bed.

“Molly.” He nodded to her and started past, but she shifted so that she was squarely in his way.

“I wanted to thank you, sir.” Her words shocked him into speechlessness. “For saving Miss Ab— Lady Montclair. I was wrong about you, and I admit it.”

“I am stunned.” Graeme grinned.

“Aye, well, you’d best take care of her, that’s all I have to say.”

“I will.”

Graeme stepped around Molly and opened his bedroom door. He looked immediately toward the bed, but Abby was not there. She sat in the easy chair before the fire. Her hands, palms bandaged in strips of white, lay in her lap, and her head was tilted back, her eyes closed. Obviously, she had refused to rest in bed—little surprise there—but exhaustion had caught up with her anyway.

He knew he should leave the room and let her sleep, but he could not turn away just yet. As he stood there, Abby’s eyes opened and she saw him. A smile curved her lips. “Graeme.”

“Abby.” He crossed the floor to her in two quick strides. Sinking down to his knees, he wrapped his arms around her, laying his head against her breast. “My love.”

Abby went still. She had fallen asleep waiting for Graeme, and for an instant, she wondered if she was still dreaming. Caressingly, she ran her hand over his hair, letting herself drift in the moment. Finally he lifted his head and sat back on his heels, studying her face.

“I was so frightened. I thought I would lose you, and I—I’ve never felt like that. So scared and helpless. I rode like a maniac, and then I saw you struggling with her . . .” He shook his head. Graeme picked up one of her hands in his and looked at her palm, his fingers gently sliding over the bandage. “Your hands. I didn’t realize you hurt your hands.”

“I scraped my palms holding on to that branch.” Abby shrugged. “It looks worse than it is. Molly slathered salve on them so enthusiastically she had to wrap bandages around them to keep me from sliding off everything I touched.”

“I’m sorry.” He raised her palm to his lips and softly kissed it.