His Perfect Game (27 page)

“Abigail.”

The sound of her name made her cheeks grow warm. She hoped her thoughts were not displayed on her face as clearly as she felt them in her body. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and was surprised to see Alexander standing in the shadow of a tree. She could not imagine what would have brought him back considering the magistrate searched for him.

“Alexander, what are you doing here?”

She stood up and blinked. The sight of him shocked her. His clothes were tattered and his hair was stringy and askew. Previously she never saw him with so much as a wrinkle in his outfit.

“I came to see you. I would have come sooner, but he never leaves you alone.”

“I’m not sure what you mean. I’m alone working, most days.” Something in his tone put her on edge.

“That may be, but your husband is always near. Well, except for today.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Abigail tried to contain her shock. She was beginning to believe everyone knew her identity and merely humored her.

“Don’t play games with me, Lady Merrick. I heard your confession to that gardener. Up until that, you had me fooled.”

“What do you want?”

His mouth twisted in an evil smile. As his gaze trailed down her body, she wished she hadn’t asked. She needed to be careful, for this man wasn’t the charming person he’d led her to believe. After all those days of her husband roaming about the garden, why had he chosen today to be absent? She needed him now.

“I want my due,” Alexander said with an ugly smirk. “I’ll get it, and I’ll enjoy every second.”

Not about to wait around for him to act on his threat, Abigail turned and ran. Unfortunately he proved to be much faster, and he locked his arms around her within seconds. Grabbing her to him, he ran his nose down the side of her face to her neck, inhaling deeply.

Silent tears poured down her cheeks. Her stomach knotted, and the urge to retch overwhelmed her. She had one chance, one sliver of hope that Joshua would come down the row to check on her.

She filled her lungs with air. “Hel—”

His grimy hand clamped over her mouth. “There will be none of that.”

He held her mouth too tightly for her to be able to bite him. Closing her eyes, she said a prayer. This man would do far worse to her than her father ever had.

“Let go of her,” Greyson growled, appearing in front of them.

The dirty hand left her mouth, then something smooth and hard pressed against her side. Although unable to look, the feel of a pistol could not be mistaken. Her heart sank as her body began to shake uncontrollably. He would kill her and her husband.

Greyson took a step toward them.

“Not so fast.” Alexander moved the gun up to her head.

Fury overtook her husband’s face. His hands clenched into fists, and she thought he would bellow with anger. Normally that level of rage would terrify her, but she couldn’t ever remember seeing a more beautiful sight. He would not abandon her. He would save her.

“Leave her alone. She has nothing to do with this.”

“If you believe that, you are a fool.” Alexander shook his head as he gripped her tighter. “All this time, and she was right here.”

“Your problem is with me. You have your pistol, you can finish me off like you want. I will not fight if you just let her go.” His voice took on a desperate quality, but his anger didn’t diminish.

“I like my plan better. Your suffering will be more satisfying than your death.”

Before Greyson could respond, Abigail heard a loud banging, then the arm around her went slack. Not a second passed before her husband was there, holding her up against him. Clinging to him, she buried her face in his chest. Still, the rapid beating of her heart didn’t slow. Was it truly over?

“Thank you, Joshua. I’ll never be able to repay you.” Relief rang in Greyson’s every word.

“Her safety is all that matters,” Joshua replied in a breathless tone.

She twisted around to see Joshua standing over Alexander’s crumpled body. He held his shovel in both hands as if expecting the unconscious man to strike. Her heart wanted to burst. These two men had saved her. She began to shake as reality crashed upon her.

“Take her inside,” Greyson instructed as he took the shovel from Joshua. “I’ll deal with this.”

His arm loosened from around her, but she could not bring herself to release him. He gazed down at her with gentle eyes and stroked her cheek.

“Come with me, Abigail.” Joshua lightly touched her shoulder. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Staring into her husband’s face, she wondered who would protect him. Images of the pistol brought fresh tears spilling over. Could she trust that she would be safe? Or that he would be?

“Go on.” Greyson wiped a tear away with his thumb. Then he turned to Joshua. “Have Mrs. Coushings give her something to calm her.”

Reluctantly releasing him, she wrapped her arms around herself. With one last encouraging nod from him, she followed Joshua inside. She could not help wondering if Greyson would have left her if she had been dressed as his wife.

“Where would you like to go, my lady?” Joshua asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Her voice shook. If she went to her bedchamber, Greyson would not know where to find her, assuming that was his plan. As the shaking expanded to her body, Joshua’s eyes widened in concern.

“Don’t worry. We will figure it out. First, let’s go to Lord Merrick’s study.” He held on to her arm as he led her down the hallway.

Once closed inside, he sat her down on a sofa then crossed the room. After he filled a glass with brandy, he handed it to her. The amber liquid looked inviting, but the smell burned her nose. She had never consumed brandy before. Staring at the alcohol, she wondered if she should partake after what just occurred.

“Drink. Brandy will settle you much better than anything Mrs. Coushings could bring.”

Not wanting to argue, she placed the glass to her lips and took a large gulp. The liquid burned while sliding down her throat. She coughed as tears sprang to her eyes. How did men regularly drink such a vile concoction?

“Easy now. Sip until you are accustomed to the flavor.”

“That is all right. I’m finished,” she managed to choke out.

“Not until it’s gone. One drink will not be enough to help.”

Sighing, she took another sip. This time she prepared herself for the sensation. The flavor improved as she neared the end. When she finished, she didn’t protest when Joshua handed a full glass back to her.

By the third glass, her body felt heavy, but wonderful. The fear now seemed far away. Why hadn’t she heard of the healing powers of brandy before?

“Thank you,” she slurred. She could hardly form the words, and she found her lack of control inordinately funny. As she laughed, she realized how tired she was. The lack of sleep the previous night wore on her. Leaning back on the cushions, she rested her eyes.

An undeterminable time later, she opened her eyes to see Greyson kneeling on the floor in front of her, his face full of concern. She smiled thinking how wonderful it felt to awaken and see him. Her heart expanded to the point she thought it would explode.

The feeling that swamped her when he was near was unlike anything she ever experienced before. He made her complete in some way. His face softened as he stroked her cheek. She closed her eyes as a tear escaped, drawing a line down her face.

She loved him. The realization burned from deep within her. She didn’t want to love him. The feeling only made the pain that much harder when they hurt you. Although she began to wonder if he had the capability of treating her like her father did. Immediately, she cast the thought aside. Her love already blinded her.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, sitting beside her and drawing her against his chest. “You don’t have to worry anymore. Algers can’t hurt you.”

Drawing back, she stared at him. “You mean Alexander? Why was he trying to take revenge against you?”

Abruptly, he stood and went to his desk. Pouring a glass of brandy, he drank it in one swallow, then refilled it. After he dropped himself into his chair, he watched her with sad eyes.

“Alexander Algers and I are both illegitimate. However, where my father chose to recognize me, his did not.”

“But that isn’t your fault. Why would he blame you when the responsibility belonged to his father?”

He shrugged. “Everyone sees things differently. His father treated him in the typical fashion for a bastard. My father is the one who deviated from the norm.”

Hearing the pride and love in his voice when he spoke of his father made her wish she could have known him. A man who would ignore Society’s dictates and follow his own path was someone who earned her respect.

“Tell me about your father.”

Greyson’s eyes took on a faraway quality. “Newman Thorpe never acted as the traditional viscount. He was a scholar. His life was devoted to his books until he fell in love. After a year of marriage to her, they discovered she could not conceive a child.”

The late viscount’s decision now made sense to her. “But he still got his heir. He had you.”

Greyson shook his head indulgently. “Neither one of them hesitated when they found the dirty boy on their doorstop with a note from my mother explaining my connection to the viscount. From the first moment they saw me, I was fully accepted into the family.”

“They sound as if they were wonderful parents.”

“They were.” He searched her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, thanks to you and Joshua. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if the two of you had not arrived when you did.”

“I know.”

His gaze held her as if in an attempt to silently communicate with her. He wanted something, although he didn’t say so. While debating asking him, she worried he desired something she could not give. She loved him, but could not trust him not to hurt her.

“Well, I’m sure you are busy. I’ll leave you alone.” Not waiting for him to protest, she stood and hurried to the door.

“Abigail, wait.”

She stopped, but didn’t turn to face him. When he didn’t respond, she peered over her shoulder. “Yes?”

His face displayed his turmoil. He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it and turned from her. “Be careful.”

Nodding, she exited the room. She forced herself to walk away, knowing staying would be much more difficult. Her feelings were too newly discovered to fight the power he had over her.

She needed time to understand how to love him and not allow the emotion to run her life. Also, she had to decide if she could allow herself to love him as his wife.

Pushing the plate aside, Greyson put his elbows on the kitchen table and dropped his head into his hands. It was late, and he was tired, but sleep evaded him. The day had been too confusing and unusual to allow him any rest.

He felt relief knowing Algers no longer posed a threat, but he couldn’t stop the memories of those moments when his wife had been held with a pistol pointed at her head. Algers had come too close.

Before the magistrate dragged him off, Greyson managed to obtain a small amount of revenge. After Algers regained consciousness Greyson challenged him to a fist fight. Without a weapon, the man proved useless, and Greyson received great satisfaction each time his fist made contact with the thief’s face.

Running his hands through his hair, he let his head fall as his throat closed. Algers had been under his employ and working daily beside Abigail. He could not bring himself to imagine the horror had the man discovered her secret sooner. He hated himself for sending her out here unprotected.

“My lord? What are you doing here?”

Greyson jumped up and whipped around upon hearing his wife. She wore a dressing gown and an ugly hat that covered her beautiful hair. Combined with her glasses, he knew Lady Merrick stood before him, not Abigail. He suppressed his disappointment.

“I missed dinner, so I came looking for a snack. What about you?”

“The same.”

She stood in the doorway, neither making a move to stay or go. Her eyes confessed her uncertainty, reminding him of how eager she’d been to escape his presence earlier. He didn’t understand her. First she attacked him with a soul-shattering kiss, then she could not bear to be around him.

“Sit down. I have some bread and jam here.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

She came forward and hesitantly sat on the chair furthest away from him as he resumed his seat. Shaking his head, he slid the plate and jar toward her. She made no move to take the offerings. Exasperation assaulted him, and he almost demanded to know why she treated him differently based on what she wore.

“Are you happy here?” he asked instead.

She watched him as if searching for a hidden meaning. “Yes.”

“Were you happier when I was in London?”

He knew he shouldn’t have asked, but he could not help himself. Although Abigail had freely teased and flirted with him, his wife pushed him away. Her actions were deliberate. She was trying to tell him something. He just didn’t know what.

“If you are trying to determine if you should stay or go, don’t base your decision on me.”

“Do you want me to leave?” He wished for more light, so he could see her face. Instead he sat perfectly still, anxious for her response.

“Are you happy here?” She copied his earlier question.

“At times,” Greyson answered truthfully.

She stood and walked over to him. When he looked up into her eyes, he saw compassion, but he also noticed her confusion. Although he understood, he didn’t know how to alleviate it. Their relationship was too complicated. The only way to change things would be to admit knowledge of her daily work as a servant. However, he had no way to know how she would react to that.

When she sat beside him, his body sizzled at her nearness. The burning made keeping motionless difficult. He wanted to take her into his arms and carry her to his bed. Then once he had her there, he would not let her leave.

“You worry too much about the thoughts of others. It does not matter what they think. You need to do what is right for you.”

Looking into her sweet, innocent eyes made him really wonder what was right for him. He wanted his wife, but were his advances right for her? He couldn’t answer that question, but he knew pursuing her maid wasn’t right. She believed him to be interested in another woman.