Page 60 of A Perfect Gentleman

Clearly, making conversation with Graeme’s mother would not be a problem. Abby glanced over at Graeme as Mirabelle continued to chatter, and he smiled and winked. Abby was suddenly filled with warmth. She was going to enjoy it here.

The next day, they started their search of the previous Lord Montclair’s study. The room was large and filled with papers, books, and sundry other items all jumbled together in drawers and shelves and trunks. The place was the complete opposite of Graeme’s tidy office, and going through it was a slow process.

Their progress was slowed even more because they often drifted off into conversation and laughter. Each day the amount of time they spent in the study became shorter, taken up by long walks through the garden or rides around the estate.

Lydcombe Hall was set in a large, well-kept park, with wilder woods beckoning beyond that, perfect for a ride or long walk. The gardens were at their glorious best, an array of color and scents, with arbors and fountains and benches where one could sit and enjoy the peace. Where they could be alone together.

In London there had always been social engagements, parties, and callers, and when they were at home, they were rarely alone. With both Lady Eugenia and her companion in the same house, not to mention countless servants, there was little privacy except behind the closed door of their bedroom.

Here, there was no social activity beyond an occasional visit from the vicar and his wife, and the house was larger and emptier. Best of all, Graeme’s mother did not push or pry, and, to Abby’s amazement, showed not the slightest antipathy toward Abby. Mirabelle tactfully spent most of her time engaged in her usual tasks, giving the married couple ample time alone together.

“Your mother is a jewel,” Abigail told Graeme one afternoon as they strolled through the rose garden, coming to stop beneath a latticework arbor.

He had taken her hand as they walked, something she had noticed him doing more and more frequently since they arrived. He smiled as he tugged her down onto the stone bench beside him. “She is that. I’m glad you like her.”

“I do. I can see the physical resemblance between her and your aunt, but their personalities are very different.” She stopped, realizing that she had not been exactly tactful. “Not that I mean anything bad about your aunt . . .”

Graeme chuckled. “No, you’re right, they are very different. Aunt Tessa is charming and beautiful and full of life, but she is best taken in small doses.”

“She is not like her son, either. Sir James seems to be a very . . . contained person.”

“Yes. He believes in keeping everything under control.”

“So do you, but beneath that one can sense the emotions in you, the kindness and depth of feeling. I’m not so sure it’s there in your cousin.”

Graeme glanced at her, half-amused. “You are so straightforward. You keep me off-balance.”

Abigail shrugged. “I’ve never been very good at half-truths or polite deceptions. I generally say what I think or I simply hold my tongue.”

“As you did when I first met you.”

“Yes. I was petrified I would do or say the wrong thing. Everything was so unfamiliar. I didn’t belong, and I could tell all the people I met thought the same thing. I would say something, and they would look a certain way, as if they were laughing without really doing so. Then I knew what I said had been gauche. Wrong in some way. But the problem was I didn’t know exactly why.”

“I am sorry it was difficult for you.” He did not look at her, but at her hand cradled in his. Idly he traced the bones of her hands down to her fingertips. “I am sorry I made it more so.”

“No need for apologies.” She laid her other hand on top of his. “I was naïve; I should have been more aware of what was happening.”

“Why did you come here with your father? Why were you willing to marry some pompous British fool?”

Abby chuckled. “You weren’t pompous. Or a fool.”

“But you seem not to care for a title.”

“No.”

“Or how far one can trace back one’s lineage. Or how blue one’s blood is.”

“That’s true.”

Graeme brushed his lips against hers, then settled back against the stone bench, curling his arm around her. “Then why were you agreeable to the marriage? Why did you go along with what he wanted?”

Abby thought for a moment. “There were several reasons. First, because it was what my father wanted. It’s hard to swim upstream. He could always out-reason, out-argue any objection. Another part was escaping his dominion. Not having to answer to him or ask him for every single thing I wanted. The money from my grandparents’ trust did not come to me, you see, until I was twenty-one or married.”

“So those were two of the reasons. And the rest?”

She turned her head and looked at him thoughtfully, then said, “I met you.”

Graeme’s eyes widened fractionally. “I was scarcely charming.”