Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous (Scandalous Seasons #3)(81)

Having grown to love Geoffrey, she’d found her love for him had filled the empty loneliness she’d felt for her family.

Her brother asked if Abigail could give up her family for Geoffrey.

For Geoffrey, she’d be willing to give up the country she’d been born to, even her family—if he’d have her. “I would, Nathaniel.” I would give up everything for him.

Nathaniel tapped his hand along the side of his thigh, his expression contemplative. “You have the courage to brave a sea voyage alone, and begin a life anew without the presence of your family…and yet, where Redbrooke is concerned, you are coward?” He shook his head. “Abby?”

“Yes?”

“You aren’t a coward.”

His words seeped into the haze of misery that had gripped her since the stormy night when Geoffrey had turned her out of his house. Abby stilled. As her brother had said, she’d braved the scorn and censure of her American compatriots, an ocean voyage alone to an unfamiliar country, a carriage accident…she was no coward.

Nathaniel winked. “That is better.”

Geoffrey might very well have regretted his decision to ask for her hand. It may have been nothing more than a hasty, obligatory offer. But it also might not have been. And she could not make a journey home unless she knew for certain.

***

Seated behind the desk in his office, Geoffrey stared blankly down at the opened ledgers in front of him. He gave his head a clearing shake and then, dipped his pen in ink. He made a mark in the column.

After living in a week long inebriated state, Geoffrey had drank his last brandy. His responsibilities were many. His obligations great.

His role as viscount required him to forget that his heart had been shattered, and focus on those who still relied upon him.

A knock interrupted his silent musings.

“Enter.”

The door opened.

His mother swept inside. She hovered a moment at the threshold of the room.

He tossed his pen down and motioned her forward. “Mother.”

She inclined her head. “Geoffrey.” She steepled her fingers and held her hands in front of her skirts. “You’re sober.”

It had taken him the better part of four days to realize no amount of spirits would ever lessen the blow he’d been dealt in losing Abigail. “I’ve been sober for three days now.”

“Have you?” she asked, a distracted air about her.

“I have.”

Silence.

Geoffrey picked his pen up and dipped it into the crystal inkwell.

“I never approved of your Miss Stone.”

He froze. Ink splattered the parchment in front of him. He resumed writing. “I know that.”

“Just as I’d never approved of your Miss Marsh.”

Abigail could not have been more different than Emma Marsh. He knew that, even if his mother didn’t. His mother didn’t know or appreciate Abigail’s great intelligence, or the courage she’d shown in crossing an ocean and beginning anew after a great scandal.

Geoffrey again dropped his pen. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is there something you wish to say, Mother?”

“You love her,” she said baldly.

“I do.”

She dropped her arms by her side and drummed her fingertips together. “I still do not approve of her. Love is not an agreeable emotion for you, Geoffrey.”

In his mind’s eye, he saw his father’s broken body. Geoffrey rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. He could no sooner stop loving Abigail than he could stop his own heart from beating.

“Geoffrey, there are many respectable, properly bred English ladies. Please remember your responsibilities as viscount. Why, the scandal that surrounds her,” she shook her head. “It would forever taint your good reputation.”

One’s good reputation made for very lonely company. “She is a far better person than I am, Mother. She is too good for me.”

Mother gasped. “You’re speaking madness, Geoffrey.”

A commotion sounded in the hall. Ralston’s murmured words were lost to the thick solid structures of the corridor walls. The door flew open with such velocity it bounced back and nearly slammed into Sophie. She put her hand out to prevent it from hitting her in the face. Then with grace and aplomb, she closed the door with a decisive click.

“Enough, Mother,” Sophie ordered.

Mother glowered at her. “This is not your affair, Sophie.”

Sophie jabbed her finger at the air. “Stuff it, Mother.” She swept into the room with all the bravado of a commanding officer and pointed at Geoffrey. “Your Miss Stone is leaving.”

His sister might as well have delivered a solid punch to his midsection. All the air left him on a swift exhale. Geoffrey’s closed his eyes. Ahh, god, he couldn’t bear this. It would destroy him.

“Her ship leaves tomorrow morning, Geoffrey.” Sophie planted her arms akimbo. “What do you plan to do about it, brother?”

“I…”

Another knock sounded on the office door.

Geoffrey sent a prayer skyward for patience. “Who is next? The bloody prince regent?” he muttered under his breath. “Enter!”

Ralston cleared his throat. “A Mr. Nathaniel Stone, my lord.”

Abigail’s brother entered the room. The tall, serious looking gentleman eyed him as though he were trying to ascertain Geoffrey’s worth. Geoffrey could have spared him the effort and told Abigail’s brother that he was a worthless blighter.