Rescued by the Duke: Delicate Hearts Book 2 Read online

  He turned and smiled at his mother. “Oh, it is nothing,” he assured her as he kissed her cheek. He glanced around and then lowered his voice. “I’m expected to find a suitable woman to court, and yet, I find myself unable to speak to the one I desire the most.”

  The lines around his mother’s eyes deepened when she gave him a wide smile. “Do not worry,” she said as she patted his hand. “I have already spoken to her on your behalf. She is awaiting your introduction.”

  Well, this is a surprise, he thought as his heart skipped a beat. He looked back at Abigail. “Is it true? How did she react when you spoke to her?”

  “With as much joy as a woman can express without embarrassing herself,” his mother replied. “She has been fond of you for some time now but has not had the courage to express those affections.”

  “I always wondered,” Richard said, his eyes fixed on Abigail. “To think this whole time she has felt the same for me as I do for her.” There was peace in that thought knowing Abigail felt the same. Now there would be a chance for him to share his feelings for her. For him to tell her how deeply he cared for her.

  “Here comes Miss Rotterdam now,” the Dowager Duchess said.

  The party seemed to come to a standstill as Richard turned to see Lady Louise Rotterdam, the daughter of the Marquess of Humfries, approaching, the Marchioness of Humfries, her mother, at her side.

  “Lady Louise?” he whispered, in shock.

  “Why, yes, of course,” his mother said with a light laugh. “Of whom else would I have been speaking?”

  He had no time to respond as the woman in question stopped and gave them both a polite nod.

  “Oh, Lady Rotterdam,” Richard’s mother said as she kissed the woman’s cheeks, “It is such a pleasure to see you.”

  “It is my pleasure, I assure you,” the Marchioness replied.

  “And Lady Louise,” his mother continued as she looked appreciatively at the daughter of the Marchioness.

  “And I you,” Lady Louise replied, though her eyes held Richard’s.

  The Marchioness gave him a look that reminded him of his tailor sizing him up before measuring him for a new coat. “Thank you for the invitation to your party,” the woman told Richard in her gruff voice. “You always throw the most lavish of affairs.”

  He gave her a small nod. “I appreciate you saying so,” he replied. “It brings me the greatest of happiness to know you find the party to your tastes.”

  “And you, Your Grace?” Lady Rotterdam asked of Richard’s mother. “Have you been well?”

  “Oh, quite,” his mother replied.

  As the women continued their conversation, Richard took the opportunity to glance at Lady Louise. His mother was correct; the woman was smitten with him. She wore a smile in a pout that would have sent most men’s heart aflutter, and her eyes bore into him as smoothly as the sword of a great knight. However, Richard could not find any attraction to her. It was not that she was not pretty, for, in fact, she was quite striking. With a shapely figure and pleasant features, she would be a fine wife for any man. However, he cared nothing for her, not in the way a man would care for a woman. No woman held his heart. None except one woman in particular.

  He glanced over once again to where Abigail stood, and his heart dropped to his feet when Lord Rumsfeld touched her arm when he laughed at something she had said. What could that man possibly want with Abigail? It was a silly question, really, for Richard knew what the man wanted; exactly what Richard desired. Miss Abigail Linton.

  “Sir?” Lady Louise said, bringing him back to the conversation before him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said with a smile. “What was that?”

  Lady Louise blushed, and if he had been any other man, he would have thought her quite fetching. “I asked if you would like to escort me to the drink table.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” replied Richard. He held out his arm and she placed her hand on it with a smile. “This way, please.”

  It was then that Richard noticed that the eyes of the ton were on both of them as they made their way through the gathering. So, his mother had started the rumors already, had she? He would have words with her later.

  Then he laughed at himself. He would have words? Not once in his life had he ever have ‘words’ with his mother. When she said something, he listened and did as he was told. He was the model son at all times, to the point that he was not his own person. He might be the Duke, but his mother still ran the estate in the way she saw fit.

  Something inside him, the distinct feeling of particular eyes boring into the back of his head, made him glance over his shoulder. He found Abigail’s gaze on him, and he wanted nothing more than to call out to her, to tell her that what she saw was not as it appeared. Yet, to do such a thing was not something he could do. He would get Lady Louise a drink, excuse himself, and take the first chance he had to go speak with Abigail.

  However, as Abigail’s father laughed and patted Lord Rumsfeld on the back, Richard feared he might have left it too late.

  ***

  Richard groaned inwardly as his plan to see that Lady Louise had a drink, to wish her a lovely evening, and then to make his way to Abigail disintegrated before him. He found himself trapped by the young woman and her mother, neither of which allowed him a moment to excuse himself. If the Marchioness and his own mother had not followed them to the drink table there might have been a chance. However, his mother was determined, and when she wanted something, she saw that it happened regardless of who was hurt in the process.

  Well, that was perhaps a bit harsh. She was not an evil woman, but there were times Richard wanted to go off and be alone, away from her meddling. His frustration with her grew, however, as she spoke about him as if he were a child.

  “There are many women who would be honored to be on the arm of my son,” she was saying in that snobbish tone she tended to take when speaking of what she had. It was as if she considered him one of her possessions rather than her son, like some prized pony she had trained all on her own. “I do believe he has selected a particular woman already.”

  Lady Louise giggled demurely beside him, and the Marchioness gave a broad smile. Were all three women a part of this dastardly plan his mother had concocted? If so, his chances of getting away had plummeted to the depths of a steep cliff, his body to be left broken at the bottom.

  He chanced a glance at Abigail, though the thought of seeing her engaged in conversation with Lord Rumsfeld would be hurtful. Yet, rather than the sense of devastation he expected, his heart lifted as she raised two fingers and then tapped them against her thigh.

  His mind returned to a time when they were children, no older than nine, as they played in the ruins of an old building that sat between their two properties.

  “There must be a way for me to send you a signal when I am in need of rescue,” Abigail had said as she sat on the ledge of one of the broken walls.

  “Rescue?” he asked. “Rescue from what? A beast?”

  “Beast or man,” she replied, followed by a whispered “or an angry mother”. Then she returned to her normal voice. “What if I am taken by brigands or kidnapped by some scoundrel?”

  He laughed. She could be silly at times. “That will not happen.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked with a single raised eyebrow. “It happens to many girls who are daughters of the ton. Have you not heard of Mary, Queen of Scots? She was kidnapped and forced to marry that awful Lord Darnley. If they can kidnap a Queen, do you not believe they can kidnap the daughter of a baron?”

  This made him laugh all the harder. “Where did you learn such nonsense?” he asked.

  She gave him a derisive sniff. “My tutor told me, and I believe him to speak the truth. Now, will you rescue me if I so need it?”

  He considered her words. If her tutor had told her that a Queen had been kidnapped, then perhaps Abigail, too, could be kidnapped as well. “Yes,” he said, feeling brave and strong. “I always will.”

&
nbsp; “Good,” she replied as she jumped from the ledge. She was never one to fear injury. If her governess found her here, she would never be allowed to play with him again, and if that happened, with whom would he climb trees and explore the ruins? “When you protect me,” she continued in that matter-fact-tone she used with him on occasion as she stopped to stand directly in front of him, “and I am safe, I will do this.” She leaned in and planted the smallest of kisses on his cheek.

  “What’s that for?” he asked as he scrubbed at his cheek.

  “That is your reward.”

  “Can’t I get gold or a new horse?”

  She jutted her chin forward. “No. A kiss is all a man needs.”

  At the time, he had thought her mad. A kiss as a reward for bravery and strength? What young boy would have been satisfied with a prize so insignificant?

  “Richard?” his mother said, breaking him from his memories.

  He looked over at Abigail once more and was surprised to see her tap her fingers against her thigh once more.

  “Richard?” His mother’s voice was much more demanding this time.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he gave the women a bow, unable to keep his smile from widening. “I must excuse myself. Lady Rotterdam, Lady Louise, it was a pleasure to see you. Please, enjoy your evening.” He pushed back the worry when he noted how his mother’s jaw dropped.

  Well, he would deal with that problem later. Abigail needed him to rescue her, and he had made a promise to do just that all those years ago.

  Chapter Three

  Oh, please remember! Abigail thought frantically as she tapped her fingers on the side of her skirts. Richard did not seem to notice, and alarm rushed through her as Lord Rumsfeld continued his incessant talk.

  “Perhaps I shall call over this Wednesday, Linton,” he was saying to her father, much to Abigail’s chagrin, “to discuss matters of business.” His eyes trailed over her as if she were a delectable dish at a dinner party. “And other matters.”

  The look of lust in the man’s eyes was unmistakable as they roamed over her dress. Her father, rather than take notice of the Baron’s brazen behavior, drank his wine in a greedy fashion, as a man drinking water after being lost in the desert for several weeks.

  Raising her hand one last time, she brought her fingers down and tapped on her thigh. The signal was silly; perhaps it was childish to believe Richard would remember after all these years, but she was desperate. Even at the age of eighteen, she needed to be rescued. The man might not be attempting to kidnap her, but he was trying to convince her father to allow him to call on her. The idea of this man doing so sent her into a state of panic; in a sense, the situation might as well have been a kidnapping.

  If she could escape before Lord Rumsfeld asked about courting, perhaps the man would forget or be caught up in conversation with others. Regardless, one thing she knew for certain was that if she remained and this man made such a request, she could not say no. Had she not already assured her parents she would not deny him?

  Lord Rumsfeld continued his onslaught, but then the words formed on his lips. “If Miss Lin…”

  “Rumsfeld, you old codger!” Richard said as he walked up to the group and slapped the Baron on the back. “I have been looking all over for you.”

  “You have?” Lord Rumsfeld asked, his features pinched in confusion.

  Richard gave a polite general nod to everyone. “Linton, Lady Linton, it is good to see you. Miss Linton.”

  Abigail stifled a giggle when he gave her a wink no one else could see.

  He turned his attention back to the Baron. “I heard rumors that you seek to expand your textile business,” he said. “Is this true?”

  “Why, yes,” Lord Rumsfeld replied. “I was just speaking to Linton here of just such matters.”

  As Abigail’s father joined the conversation, Abigail seized the moment to give a short nod to Richard. His eyes twinkled, and she realized at that moment how much she missed her old friend. Perhaps Eliza was right. Abigail had dismissed his antics as a man full of pride. Yet, had that been the case? Did he not suffer from the loss of his father as any other person would? How could she have been so callous?

  As he continued to interact with the other men, she studied him. He was still handsome with his dark hair tied at the nape of his neck. His face had angular lines, a strong jaw, and a prominent nose. Despite these observations, she could never imagine the two of them together as a couple, for she did not care for him as more than a dear friend.

  “Miss Linton,” Richard said. “I imagine that our discussion of business would be quite the bore for you. If you would like, several of the young ladies are walking the gardens. Perhaps you would like to join them?”

  Abigail breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said with a curtsy. “Gentlemen.” She held back a laugh at the shocked look on Lord Rumsfeld’s face. He was not happy about the change of events, but Abigail could not have cared less.

  Her mother was speaking to Lady Simmons, a woman who wore a severe gown with the collar all the way to her chin. She was an older woman with strict principles when it came to how a woman dressed and conducted herself. Abigail’s mother might not agree with what the woman said about clothing, but she did take her advice on a woman’s conduct, which was that she was to be seen and not heard.

  Abigail used her mother’s distracted attention to do as Richard had suggested and made her way to the gardens. Lanterns had been set up along the paths in order to allow the guests to stroll and take in the fresh summer air. Hedges created high walls, which in turn created snaking pathways, allowing wayfarers to choose from several directions, some leading to new junctions while others led to dead ends. It was a veritable labyrinth in which Abigail and Richard had played throughout their childhood, and Abigail knew every corner and every path, even today.

  Her slippers made little noise on the cobblestone path as her steps led her further away from the man she did not want to be near. The path ended at a large tree, and Abigail was glad to see that the stone bench remained.

  As she sat, a small laugh escaped her lips as she remembered a time when she was just thirteen years of age and had come with her father, who came to conduct business with the former Duke of Rellingstone. By that time, she and Richard were far too old for playing together, or so she had thought. Rather than frolic as they once had, Abigail had insisted that Richard escort her around the gardens while feigning interest in every plant along the way. Too old for romping and chasing, she wanted a way to remain close to him, for she found his presence comforting after a fashion.

  The truth was her life was demanding, at least by her parents. They had allowed her to be free during her younger years, but once she turned thirteen, it all changed. They told her it was time she acted a young lady and not an urchin from the streets. She had never seen her times of whimsicalness as actions of a street urchin, but she had learned early on never to argue. Therefore, she gave up her childhood and moved on to the beginnings of her adulthood, acting the part of a lady when inside she wished only to remain a child.

  It was on that particular day as they strolled together through the gardens that she had first thought Richard handsome. Before, he had simply been Richard, the boy with whom she spent a vast amount of time enjoying those things upon which her parents would have frowned. Now, she noticed how the sun highlighted him in such a way that forced her to see the man he would become. No matter how handsome he was, however, it was his willingness to please her, to stand patiently as she spoke of each flower, though she knew it bored him, that she remembered above all else.

  “So many years ago,” she whispered at the memories. “I have missed you, my friend.”

  So many excuses existed for their failed friendship, but the most prevalent was a simple matter of society. A woman could not simply call over to a gentleman’s house. Of course, some women defied those social norms and did just that; however, the gossip that followed ruined their reputation and
their standing in society. Her parents would be irate if she allowed herself to be the subject of such rumors, so she stayed away. Plus, it was not as if Richard had made a point of coming to visit her!

  None of it mattered now, for although Richard had come to save her this evening, his actions only delayed the inevitable. Lord Rumsfeld would ask to court her, and she would agree. And if her nightmare were to be realized and he asked for her hand in marriage, she would also agree. Oh, how it frustrated her to not have the courage to defy her parents! To have the strength to disagree, to say no. Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. Nothing would change despite what Richard had done.

  Footsteps came to her ear, and her heart skipped a beat. Was her short-lived respite over? Would that be her father coming in search of her in order to drag her back to the party and thus the company of the Baron? She found herself holding her breath as she waited for the person’s arrival.

  Then, relief washed over her as Richard rounded the corner.

  ***

  Powerful emotion surged through Abigail as she jumped up from the bench and then performed a perfect curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said hastily. “Thank you for what you did inside.”

  Richard smiled and shook his head. “Abigail, you know to call me Richard,” he said with a laugh. He was much taller than she now, and though he towered over her, thus causing him to look down at her, she did not feel intimidated in any way. In fact, she was enveloped in a sense of security. It was an odd feeling since she had not been in his company in some time.

  “Very well, then,” she said. Then she sighed. “Thank you for saving me. I’m surprised you remembered our signal.”

  He laughed. It was a deep sound, much different from the manner in which he laughed when they were younger. The boy had grown to be a man. “How could I forget?” he asked. “I do not suppose the reward still comes with it?” He shook his head. “Forgive me. I do not know what came over me. I meant no disrespect; I hope you know that.”