Page 76 of A Perfect Gentleman

It was no wonder he had hated the thought of being shackled to her. She understood why even now, when she returned, he had fought so hard against being her husband. Only her threat of divorce had made him agree to her proposal.

And what did that say about her? Was she any better than her father? She had not intended her offer of divorce to be a threat. Divorce had seemed her only chance at happiness after Graeme turned her down. But that didn’t change the impact of her statement. Given Graeme’s abhorrence of scandal, divorce had been a very heavy hammer, indeed.

It horrified her, appalled her, to see this glimpse into her nature. No matter what he had said in the face of her tears, Graeme must despise her. How could he not? Even though she had not been party to her father’s blackmail, she was solely responsible for her own coercion. Abby’s life lay like a dark abyss in front of her. There was nothing she could do to make up for the wicked things she and her father had done to Graeme. All she could do now was give him his future. She quailed at the thought of giving him up. But, she reminded herself, she had never really had him. It had been a delusion she’d created.

She could not sleep. Abby sat up for hours, wrapped in her thoughts, and when at last she dragged herself to bed, she could not rest. Finally, toward dawn, she fell asleep, only to wake up two hours later, feeling sick, as well as sick at heart.

Molly brought her tea and toast. It was her morning routine to combat Abby’s nausea. She peered into the cold cup of chocolate sitting on the dresser and gave a loud sniff of disapproval, then set down the tray beside it and thrust a piece of toast into Abby’s hand.

Abby hadn’t the will to resist despite the way her stomach roiled at the thought of eating.

“Och, you’re looking like death warmed over,” Molly told her.

“Thank you so much.”

“No doubt you stayed up all night, worrying over that man.”

“I wasn’t worrying. Just examining my actions. I’m a selfish person, Molly.”

“Hmph. And who isn’t, might I ask? If you think that that one”—she stabbed her forefinger in the direction of Graeme’s room—“doesn’t think of himself first and foremost, you’re dead wrong.”

“I forced him to accept me.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Oh, no doubt you dragged him unwilling into your bed. I’m sure that if you were cross-eyed and bald, he would have done exactly the same.”

Abby made a face at her and sat up slowly, relieved when her stomach lurched only once, then calmed. She accepted another piece of toast. Most mornings, after a bit of toast, she went downstairs and joined the others at the breakfast table, her stomach settled enough to face the prospect of food without blanching—even though she ate little of it.

But today the thought of facing Graeme and Lady Eugenia, even the drab Mrs. Ponsonby, was too much for her. She must talk to Graeme, but at least she could do so later, when he was alone in his study. She ate another piece of toast to appease Molly and pulled herself out of bed.

Her hands were icy, her stomach a fierce knot, as she went down the stairs to Graeme’s study, relieved not to meet anyone along the way. She paused outside the door. Graeme was sitting at his desk, one elbow on it and his head propped against his hand. There was a paper on the desk in front of him—hopefully nothing important, for he was making aimless circles on it with a pencil, frowning all the while.

Abby drew up her courage and stepped inside, closing the door after her. At the sound, Graeme looked up and popped to his feet. “Abby—Abigail.”

When had he started calling her Abby, she wondered. She had not noticed. But clearly he wanted to retreat from that intimacy.

“I wanted to talk to you.” She laced her hands in front of her to conceal their trembling.

“Yes. Of course. Sit down.” He started around the desk to politely seat her, but she waved him back.

“No, there’s no need. This won’t take long.”

“Very well.” He stopped, his expression careful, the wide desk stretched between them.

“I came to apologize for my father.”

“No, please, there is no need, I assure you.”

“Don’t.” Abby shook her head. “I don’t want English courtesy. It’s time for American plain speaking. What my father did was inexcusable. I swear to you that I would never have agreed to the marriage if I had known it. There is nothing I can do to redress the wrong he did you. Neither of us can change the fact that we are married without causing harm to your family’s reputation.”

Graeme stiffened. “You want to change our marriage?”

“I want to do what I can to make amends to you. Not only for my father’s actions, but also for what I—” Abby stopped and swallowed hard, then plowed ahead, determined to get out what she had come to say before tears overcame her. “I deeply regret the wrong that I have done you, as well. I was selfish and headstrong. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but that doesn’t make it right or good. I should not have made the demands I made of you.”

She forced herself to meet his eyes. “So . . . I am releasing you from our agreement.”

chapter 25

Graeme looked at her blankly. “What? What agreement? What do you m—” Graeme stopped as a blush tinged Abby’s too-pale face. “Oh. That.”