Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous (Scandalous Seasons #3)(82)

Nathaniel Stone glanced momentarily at Mother and Sophie. He returned his attention to Geoffrey. “May I request a word with you, Redbrooke?”

Geoffrey’s heart thudded wildly in his chest. “Out,” he said to his Mother and Sophie.





A gentleman should never be too proud.

4th Viscount Redbrooke



32

Abigail sat within the confines of the Duke of Somerset’s carriage. She reached for the red velvet curtains, and then pulled her hand back. She folded her hands on her lap and resisted the urge to look out at Geoffrey’s townhouse.

Nathaniel must have been in Geoffrey’s home nearly thirty minutes, now. Whatever could they be discussing?

Abigail reached for the fabric of the curtain again, and gave her head a shake.

“Twelve Titans,” she muttered into the quiet.

Hyperion—Titan of Light, Lapetus—Titan of Morality, Coeus—Titan of Intelligence, oh, and then Cronus, leader of the Titans.

It occurred to her then, that she’d not counted the mythical Greek figures in a very long time.

It also occurred to her, that she didn’t give a bloody blast about the Twelve Titans.

The door opened.

Abigail scrambled forward in her seat. “Whatever took you so long? You were…oh…” Her words died on her lips. “You.”

Geoffrey peered up at her from outside the carriage. “Yes, me.” His emotionless tone gave little indication as to his thoughts. And then he hefted himself in. He pulled the door shut behind him and took the seat opposite her.

Geoffrey’s tall, muscular frame managed to make the wide expanse of the carriage seem small.

Abigail studied his strong, powerful hands as he set down a very familiar looking package. Her heart thumped wildly. She wet her lips. “You,” she whispered again.

He continued to eye her with that inscrutable expression. “Still me.”

“Oh.” She ran her eyes over him. She’d feared she would leave and never again see him, that her last memory of Geoffrey Winters, Viscount Redbrooke would be the moment he’d walked out of the duke’s parlor, and out of her life.

Geoffrey adjusted his gloves.

How can he be so coolly unaffected by me? How can he not realize that my heart died the moment he left?

Then, as though he spoke to himself, he said, “Do you know, Abigail, I do not know what to make of that ‘oh’? Does that ‘oh’ mean you want to leave and never see me again? Does it mean you still foolishly, somehow still care for me? Is it mere surprise?”

“No,” she said quickly. She shook her head. “It is none of those things.”

He caught his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “So then I’m forced to wonder if you merely had your brother escort you here to return my gift, a gift you’ve still not opened.”

“I cannot accept a gift from you,” she said automatically. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

The ghost of a smile played about his lips. “No, that is what your brother explained.”

He folded his arm across his broad chest. “I once asked if you found fault in a gentleman who valued respectability.”

Abigail sat forward, and ran her eyes over the angular planes of his cheeks. “How could I ever find fault with such a gentleman?” she whispered.

Geoffrey leaned across the carriage. “Oh, Abby.” He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand.

She leaned still closer, until their breaths mingled; her heart feeling complete for the first time since her world had crumbled down around her scandalous ears. “I wonder as to the meaning of that ‘oh’, Geoffrey? Does it mean you’d like to be rid of me? Does it mean you’re eager to return to whatever important business it is viscounts tend to? Does it mean you pity me?”

He placed a feathery kiss upon her closed lids. “No. It is none of those things.”

His lips moved a delicate trail down her cheek, his butterfly gentle kiss still so tender upon the nearly healed bruises. “That ‘oh’ means I love you. It means I am nothing without you. It means the day Alexander Powers re-entered your life, my world ceased to mean anything.” Geoffrey trailed his finger along the curve of her cheek, to her chin, then to her nose, as if he were attempting to commit her every feature to memory. “It means, if you’ll still have me, I’d make you my wife.”

Abigail tilted her head back and received his kiss. Geoffrey’s lips moved over hers with a gentle searching that brought tears to her eyes.

She pulled back, and a groan escaped him. “You do not have to marry me, Geoffrey. I understand you value propriety and respectability and by nature of my scandal, I am neither proper nor respectable.”

Geoffrey’s jaw hardened and his furious eyes bore into her. “You are worth far more than every lady in all the British Empire.” And when he said it with such fiery conviction, she found she could believe those words. Geoffrey reached into the front pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded parchment. “Here.”

Abigail stared at the ivory velum, with its unfamiliar black seal.

Geoffrey pressed it into her hand and jerked his chin at it. “Open it.”

She hesitated, and then worked her nail under the seal. She unfolded the parchment.

Abigail read the first two sentences and stopped. Her gaze flew to his.