Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau Read online

  These were the silly questions that nagged at her when she was with him. The more time she spent with him, the more she knew with utmost certainty that there was more to him than meets the eye. For all his grunts and growls, he had a kind heart. Of this she was certain.

  Because of his grunts and growls, she itched to get closer. To get past all that.

  But he did not need her anymore, as he’d so rightly pointed out. He did not need her, and neither did her sisters.

  Which left her with the children from town, but they were growing quickly and soon Nicholas would start to work in his father’s shop, and then Edith would be expected to help with the cooking and household chores, and Polly would be next to go—

  “What was that?” His voice was so brisk she glanced up with a start, her gaze automatically seeking out the little ones to ensure they were all right.

  “What was what?”

  “That sigh.” He crossed his arm and turned to face her so she was forced to stop walking or ignore him entirely. “What was that sigh about?”

  “I told you—”

  “You’re lonely,” he said.

  “It sounds silly, I know.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  She blinked at the certainty in his tone. “It’s just that...well, Minerva has always been my closest friend and now she is gone. And the others, too. And my father is occupied with business at the fort.”

  “I don’t think that’s all there is to it.”

  She wet her lips. He was right, of course. But the rest was not something she could confide in him.

  She wasn’t just lonely, she was useless. All her sisters had something. Something that was theirs. Sally had her medicine and her science, and Rebecca threw herself into entertaining, while Hattie was more than content with her fictional worlds.

  Abigail had her children. But more and more recently she’d been forced to reckon with the fact that they were not her children.

  And she supposed that was the heart of it. She’d watched with all the happiness in the world as her closest sister had fallen in love and was swept off her feet by the man of her dreams. But now...well, now she’d been left behind and the truth of her current state was suddenly undeniable. It was everywhere she looked.

  She was of a marriageable age, but there were no prospects to be had. And no marriage meant no family, and no family meant no place for her to belong. And that...

  She placed a hand over her belly. Well, that was terrifying.

  He was waiting for her to say something, but this newfound fear had her scrambling to think of something pleasant to say. She couldn’t think of anything. So instead she said, “You were not there to see them off.”

  “Hmmph.” He glanced down at her. “I don’t do goodbyes.”

  “I see.” They continued in silence until they reached her property. “I will be fine from here, Mr. Calhoun—”

  “Caleb.” His voice was curt but that did not explain why her heart gave a start. She was used to his curt manners. And this was far from the first time he’d tried to insist that she use his given name.

  “Caleb, then.” But this was the first time she’d used it. Before she hadn’t because...well, she could not quite say why. It had felt too intimate when she was already skirting the rules of society by visiting him every day. Even if it was to nurse him and bring him food, using his given name had been a boundary of sorts.

  Judging by the flare of his nostrils, he’d been surprised by her sudden acquiescence as well.

  “I will be fine from here, Caleb,” she said with a smile.

  He stared at her.

  “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow,” he grumbled as she started to turn away. It was the same thing he said every day when she was ready to leave, but today it made her chest ache.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” she said as evenly as possible. “My father has asked that I visit my aunt in Thermon tomorrow.” She was not looking forward to it. But the old dear was elderly and in need of company now and again. She and her sisters typically took turns visiting, but with Hattie feeling under the weather and the others gone, it was left to her.

  “The day after then,” he said.

  She turned back in surprise. “I do not think so, Caleb. You said it yourself. You do not need me anymore.” She bit her lip and drew in a deep breath. She would not cry here, not now. How mortifying that would be. “But I am certain I shall see you while you are still in town.” She forced a smile she did not feel. “Should you wish it.”

  Chapter 3

  Should you wish it? Of course he did not wish it. He’d been trying to get this stubborn lady and her irritating little brats to stop visiting him for a fortnight and to no avail.

  And now...

  Now he found himself chasing after her. “Are you going alone?”

  “Pardon me?”

  He scowled down at her. Sometimes her innocence was just plain annoying. “Alone,” he repeated. All right, fine, he barked. It wasn’t his finest moment, but he was heartened when she merely smiled in return.

  He was less heartened to see that her smile, for the first time since he’d met her, did not quite reach her eyes.

  Oh blast it all. What was wrong with him? His hands curled into fists as the urge to fight her demons drove him to distraction. His temper had never been his best trait, but he wasn’t one to fly off the handle either. And now was not the time.

  Still, all he could do was clench his jaw, his fists, and every other muscle as frustration stole over him. How was he supposed to solve her problems if she did not tell him everything?

  Loneliness.

  Perhaps that was part of it, but he suspected there was more. After all, she had these children forever underfoot. And then there was Hattie and— “What did you say became of your other sisters?”

  Her brows arched. “Sally and Rebecca?”

  Sure. Those two. He’d only really gotten to know Minerva, and that was only because Marcus hadn’t let her out of his sight from the moment she’d promised to marry him. The other girls had seemed nice enough, but he’d been too distracted by this blonde angel before him to ever remember which one was which.

  “Well,” she said with a long exhale. “Do you recall the Earl of Elwood? He was at the ball that night.”

  ‘That night’ needed no further description. It was the night his very life had flashed before his eyes. It was the night he’d seen this angel held at knifepoint. The villain was a coward. A greedy weakling looking to make some extra money through smuggling.

  His only regret from that night was that he hadn’t snapped the fool’s neck before he’d had a chance to escape.

  Like a vivid nightmare he had a flash of it all. Of the cave. Of her eyes. Of the fear in them when her gaze had collided with his. But then there had been her show of bravery. Her even gaze that had held his as though he were her lifeline.

  No one had ever looked at him like that. Without fear, and with something else instead. Certainty. She’d looked at him as though he was her savior.

  No one had ever trusted him like that before. Certainly no dainty lady like this one.

  You do not need me anymore.

  He shook off her words. What was she on about? Right. The earl. An elderly bloke who’d been surrounded by a bunch of preening, prettified lords and ladies of the ton. His lips curved up in a sneer out of habit. “What about him?”

  “He’s sick, it seems. With the doctor out of town at the moment, he asked Sally to come look after him.” Her sudden smile was filled with pride and for a moment he felt as though he’d been stuck with a knife all over again. “Dr. Roberts himself recommended her. Said she’d do just as well as any high society physician and that she was well able to tend to him by herself.”

  He made a noise of acknowledgement but words were still out of reach. She had to stop smiling like that. It was too distracting by far.

  “But of course she could not go alone and Rebecca has always wished to see a true country estate.” Her smile turned dreamy and sweet. “Rebecca was delighted to go as her companion.”

  His eyes narrowed. For a second there he’d almost forgotten what started this blasted conversation about earls and country estates. “Who’ll be your companion tomorrow if Hattie is ill?”

  “A maid will accompany me.”

  “A maid.” He had a hazy memory of the skittish young woman who’d accompanied Abigail to town the last time he’d seen her. “She’s no better than Hattie. Or Nicholas.”

  Abigail’s smile didn’t fade, but it turned quizzical. “I only need a companion for propriety’s sake. The carriage driver will be with us, of course. I can’t imagine why I’d need more protection.”

  He stared at her. Gaped at her, really. “Can’t you?”

  She blinked.

  “That smuggler is still out there,” he said. Even he could hear his anger. His agitation. But honestly, what sort of fool went off alone at a time like this?

  She frowned. “He’s likely long gone, you’ve said so yourself.”

  “But we don’t know that,” he shot back. “Nor do we know for whom he was working.”

  She sighed, and not for the first time today he found himself feeling very strangely like an old nursemaid fretting over its charge. He did not particularly care for the image, or the feeling, for that matter.

  But while she wasn’t his charge, obviously—she was his to protect. He’d saved her life, after all. Surely that meant she was under his protection. And even if it didn’t.... “I forbid it.”

  She gave him a blank stare. “Pardon me?”

  Some of his fury softened in the face of her shock. “I forbid it?” To his horror, this time it came out as a question rather than a fearsome command, as he’d intended.

&nb
sp; Her lips twitched, and while it was indeed humiliating to be the object of her amusement, he also felt something in his chest loosen at the sight of that almost smile. She’d been far too close to tears before and he did not like it. No, he did not care for it one bit.

  In fact, he aimed to make sure she never cried again. All part of his duty to look after her, of course. He’d promised Marcus and Minerva before they’d left that he’d protect Abigail and the rest of her family so long as Roger was on the loose and his cohorts still unknown.

  And that was precisely what he’d do.

  She twisted her hands together, looking more youthful and vulnerable than he’d ever seen her. His chest tightened again at the sight of it.

  Curse it. No one woman should have so much control over his organs, of that he was certain. It was for the best that he’d be leaving town just as soon as this smuggling business was sorted.

  Until then, however, she was his concern. Her safety was, at least.

  She reached out and patted his arm gently. “That’s very thoughtful of you to take an interest,” she said sweetly. “But my father is the one who’s requested that I go. Surely if he thought there was any danger—”

  “Then I will talk to your father.” He meant for his glare to be a challenge. A dare for her to defy him, but there was a sadness in her eyes when she lifted her shoulders.

  “Do as you’d like.” She moved to walk away. Do as he’d like? What did that mean?

  And why did she still look like she might cry?

  Lonely. She was lonely. His gut twisted at the sight of her walking away...alone. Her head was held high and there were children bustling about, as always.

  All the same, surely he ought to see her safely to her door. And then he would have a word with her father.

  As luck would have it, Caleb spotted her father returning to his house from the direction of the fort just as Caleb was heading back to his new makeshift home.

  Home. The word made him twitch. He’d never had a home. Not a proper one, at least. He eyed the slightly slanted wooden structure that stood precariously along the shores. He supposed this place was as good as any.

  “Ho there, just the man I wanted to see,” Captain Jones called out as he approached.

  Caleb grimaced. He wasn’t the sort of man that gentlemen like Captain Jones typically wanted to see.

  In fact, in any other circumstances, he’d likely be the very last sort of man Captain Jones wanted to see.

  But it seemed saving the life of his daughter had helped the good captain form a decent first impression of a man most went out of their way to avoid.

  “You wanted to see me, Captain?” he asked warily.

  The wariness was more of a leftover sensation than anything. He had nothing against Captain Jones. No, it was these new thoughts of making a home here in Billingham that were chafing at him just now.

  He was never supposed to stay. Not forever, at least. He’d promised Marcus and his new wife that he’d keep an eye out for a while. Just while his leg healed and while there might be danger still about.

  Just while he figured out where he ought to go next.

  London, he supposed. There was always work to be had at the docks.

  Captain Jones was slightly out of breath when he reached Caleb’s side. “Coming from the house, eh?”

  “Yes, Captain.” He used the same deferential tone that the naval officers used. After all, a captain was a captain even if this man was never his captain.

  For a moment his mind wandered. What sort of man would he have been if his father had sent him off to the military instead of selling him off as an indentured servant? Little better than a slave. He’d been rescued right alongside the slaves on that dreadful ship and made a free man by that first pirate crew.

  Captain Jones was eyeing the house on the hill with a narrowed gaze, concern etched on his creased features. “I suppose you heard the news then.”

  Caleb stiffened. “News?”

  “One of my men—Eddleston, you remember him?”

  “Aye, I remember.” He winced at the memory of a scrawny looking youth who’d somehow gotten entangled in Marcus’s plot to catch the smuggler on these shores.

  In truth it hadn’t been the smugglers he was after, but the leader of the pirate crew that was funneling their contraband through these shores. That was the real villain—rumors had been swirling at every port they’d stopped at this past year.

  Those rumors had led them here.

  To Abigail.

  He shook off the thought. They’d led him to Abigail and her entire family, not to mention this little town with no prospects. “What of the boy?”

  “He was on watch last night,” Captain Jones said, his fingers fussing with the edge of his white mustache as he was prone to do when he was concerned.

  These were the sort of things Caleb had trained himself to notice. People’s tells. Those little movements that betrayed what they were thinking.

  That was the only reason he’d been so worked up about Abigail’s distress. It was out of character, that was all.

  “He thought he saw some movement near the old barracks.”

  The old barracks was the uninhabitable part of the old fort that the small naval establishment used for ammunition storage and the like. It was where they’d taken the gold and antiquities that Marcus and Caleb had brought ashore to draw out the smugglers.

  Caleb narrowed his eyes as he mulled over the possibility of Roger or one of his mates being foolish enough to come back for the loot they’d left behind.

  He had a flash of Roger’s flared nostrils, the quivering lips, the weak chin, and the way he’d used Abigail as a human shield.

  A growl slipped out before he could stop it.

  Yes, Roger was definitely foolish enough. And no doubt desperate, to boot. They all knew Roger wasn’t the master villain here. He wasn’t behind the piracy and there was no way he was smart enough to be the mastermind behind the smuggling operation. He was just a middle man, and that made him fair game. The first pawn to fold in a fight.

  “You think he’s back?” Caleb asked.

  “Him or one of his ilk.” The captain’s voice was mild, but he couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes. Understandably. He’d heard the rumors about this captain. How he’d risen in the ranks to become a glorified leader in the British navy...until he walked away for his family. Seemed that shortly after the war with France ended, his wife had disappeared at sea—she’d been pronounced dead, that much he knew—and the captain had left his ship, along with the money and the glory that came with it. And all so he could raise his girls in peace.

  He’d given up his position of command to man this old stone frigate, which kept watch over this sparsely populated bit of shoreline.

  The captain was a devoted father, no one could doubt that. And right now, he was clearly a concerned one at that.

  “I’ll look into it,” Caleb said.

  Her father looked like he might argue. He had a crew of his own men right here. But most of them were young and untrained, sent here when there was nowhere else for them to go. This motley crew was hardly fierce and battle-worn. Not like Caleb.

  The captain nodded. He started to move away when Caleb stopped him. “Your daughter.”

  Captain Jones glanced up with an arched brow. “Which one?”

  “Miss Abigail.”

  The captain’s lips twitched. “What about her?”

  “She shouldn’t be going to Thermon on her own.”

  The captain’s brows came up slightly, but he gave a short nod. “Are you offering to accompany her?”

  A sensation he’d never felt before made it difficult to stand still. He had the unpleasant sensation that the captain was...laughing at him.

  He supposed Abigail got her sense of humor from him. She was the only other person who dared to laugh when he spoke.

  When he didn’t immediately answer, the captain glanced over his shoulder at the fort with its crumbling stone walls. “I could have one of my men go with her—”

  Caleb cut him off with a scoff. One of those skinny young officers? Most of them were no more than boys. Might as well have Hattie or Nicholas looking after her. “I’ll do it.”

  The captain’s brows hitched again but it wasn’t surprise in his old wizened eyes. “Very well. So long as her maid stays with you at all times.”