Miss Abigail's Beastly Beau Read online

  That would not do.

  Even more alarming, his brows drew together and she suspected he was attempting to formulate some sort of comforting response.

  That definitely would not do.

  “As I said before. Silly. Do not mind me and my emotional state,” she said with an airy cheer she did not quite feel. “It’s likely just a side effect of having to say farewell to my dear sister. And then finding myself at home with just Hattie and Father when I am used to such chaos and chatter all the time.”

  She drew in a deep breath. Chatter all the time? Yes, that adequately explained the babble that was currently falling out of her mouth. But really, she couldn’t bear for him to look at her like this for a moment longer.

  His dark gaze held such concern. Such sympathy.

  He leaned forward again and he looked like he might speak.

  She was grateful when the carriage came to a halt. “Ah, we are here at last!” She called it out so cheerfully and so loudly that her maid’s head came up with a snap.

  She avoided looking in Caleb’s direction as she gathered her belongings.

  Never in her life had she been so happy to visit her Aunt Lucinda.

  Chapter 5

  That happiness was not long lived.

  “You are not getting any younger, dear.” Aunt Lucinda’s lips were pursed as though she’d just tasted something sour.

  Abigail’s smile faltered. The sound of a grandfather clock ticking in the far corner was the only noise to ease this painful silence. “That is true,” she murmured before taking another sip of tea. And thank you for pointing that out.

  She resisted the urge to turn and look at the time. It wasn’t as though an hour had flown by as she’d taken that sip.

  Unfortunately.

  For the millionth time since she’d set foot in her aunt’s parlor, Abigail wished that she’d forced Hattie to join her, sniffles or no. At least when one of her sisters was with her, the attention was divided amongst them.

  Hattie would have been scolded for being too quiet, while Sally would have been reprimanded for speaking too bluntly and for not taking proper care with her appearance. Even Rebecca might have been given a lecture, though it was hard to imagine why. Rebecca was the most charming, dutiful daughter, and she shared Aunt Lucinda’s fascination with gowns and balls and the like.

  Abigail, on the other hand...

  “I cannot imagine why you are still wasting your time on those urchins.” Aunt Lucinda gave a delicate shudder of horror.

  “They are hardly urchins, Aunt Lucinda.” She smiled at the thought of them. “Their parents work hard for their wage. But that leaves them with little time to help their children learn how to read and do basic mathematics.”

  “Well, I still don’t see why you have to do it.”

  I don’t have to do it. I want to. She bit her tongue. It was no use explaining yet again that she enjoyed the company of children. Little adorable ones, yes, but even more so she loved the ones who were shy or misbehaved. Those were the ones, she’d found, who needed the extra attention the most.

  They needed her.

  Her heart lurched in her chest at the thought of leaving them. But that was what this visit was about, was it not? Aunt Lucinda had wasted no time in broaching the subject.

  “Your father has already agreed with me,” the elderly woman said. “It would do you good to go to London for a spell. I still have connections in good society, you know.”

  Yes. I know. She’d only mentioned it twenty times per visit. Their father’s eldest sister, Lucinda had been the one Jones sibling to marry into the gentry. The baronet had died one year into the marriage, leaving Lucinda a wealthy widow.

  A wealthy widow with the right connections, as she so liked to remind them.

  It was no secret that she looked down upon her brother’s family. While it was estimable that he’d risen in the ranks to captain—not without a fair amount of help from Lucinda and her connections, as she was quick to point out—there was nothing to be done about the fact that they would never be titled. Or wealthy.

  “Now.” Aunt Lucinda placed her cup on the table beside her. “You will never be a diamond of the first water, but there is no reason to think you could not catch the eye of some eligible young gentleman. Perhaps a second son or a wealthy merchant, so long as he’s from a suitable family.”

  Aunt Lucinda stared and it soon became apparent that she expected a response.

  “Er, thank you?” Abigail offered.

  Her aunt continued talking and Abigail let out a slow breath. Her father had warned her, of course. Their aunt had been threatening to bring one of her nieces with her to London for years now.

  It was just that Abigail had always supposed the sacrificial lamb, as it were, would be Minerva. Even after Roger began to show an interest in their sister, it was assumed that as the oldest, Minerva would have the, er...honor of acting as Aunt Lucinda’s companion.

  “As I told your father, I plan on leaving for London earlier than usual.” Her aunt reached for her teacup. “In a fortnight.”

  Abigail choked on her tea. “Before Christmastide?”

  “Why dally?” Her aunt’s gaze moved over her. “We have much work to do if we are to have you ready in time for the season. We’ll need a new wardrobe, to start.” And that was only the beginning of Aunt Lucinda’s next tirade.

  “Do you know,” Abigail said the moment there was a pause. “It is really Rebecca who has a keen interest in London society—”

  “Rebecca is still young,” her aunt snapped. “She still has several years ahead of her. You, on the other hand...” She trailed off with a scowl.

  Abigail looked down sheepishly, oddly embarrassed by her age. Mere moments ago she hadn’t believed herself to be so very ancient, but it seemed she was wrong. The thought had an entirely inappropriate smile tugging at her lips.

  “You cannot mean to tell me that you do not wish to go to London.” Her aunt made it sound so ludicrous that Abigail sipped her tea rather than answer.

  Perhaps she was daft, after all, because she truly did have no desire to go to the city. She had even less desire to dance and flirt and make pleasant small talk with a crowd of well-mannered dandies. Her mind called up images of false smiles and chatter that only served to fill the air with more air, just hotter.

  The thought filled her with dread. She’d never fit in before, and she had no reason to suspect that she would now.

  She stared down into her teacup. She’d been to London. Of course she had. And even in Billingham she’d met the type of gentlemen that her aunt considered eligible, typically at her own home when her father hosted friends and acquaintances along their travels.

  Many of those men were eligible.

  It was she who was not. She could pretend. Her easygoing nature and her tendency to smile gave her the ability to feign contentment—perhaps even enjoyment—throughout the soirees and dinner parties Rebecca loved to plan. But keeping up that pretense for months on end? Pretending she was not homesick for her sisters and her father and the children of Billingham?

  The thought made her stomach sink.

  “My dear, if you are worried about your lack of connections, I assure you there are some who would be willing to overlook your flaws.”

  “My family is not my flaw,” she said softly. Minerva would have lashed out at that. Sally would have rolled her eyes and had some sort of biting retort. Even Rebecca would have responded with a bit more pertness to her tone.

  Oh, how she wished her sisters were here with her. She’d never been any good at standing up for herself. Almost as soon as she thought it she heard Caleb’s voice in her head. Believe me, I know very well how strong and brave you are.

  He hadn’t been teasing, not then.

  The thought made her smile and had her glancing up to see Aunt Lucinda smiling as well. “There now. You’re almost pretty when you smile like that.”

  Her smile faltered. Minerva always liked to say that Abigail had gotten all the beauty in the family. Rubbish, of course, but she would often retort that, in that case, Minerva must have received all the brains.

  She could only imagine what Min would say if she were to hear that Aunt Lucinda deemed her ‘almost pretty.’

  “Thank you, Aunt Lucinda.” At this particular moment it was enough to imagine what her sisters might say.

  Or Caleb.

  Her lips tugged upwards again as she tried to imagine it. She almost wished he hadn’t insisted on staying outside with the carriage during her visit. She would have loved to see her aunt’s expression if he were sitting across from her. No doubt growling and glaring in the face of her snobbery.

  The thought had Abigail positively beaming as she took another sip of tea.

  Her aunt nodded with more certainty. “Yes, my dear. There will definitely be someone you could charm into taking notice, I am sure.”

  Her smile faltered again. Charming a man did not sound at all appealing. It sounded like she would be forced to feign interest and force smiles. It sounded to her like months upon months of pretending.

  But what other choice did she have?

  A large and grumpy face filled her mind and shocked her so thoroughly that her teacup rattled when she set it down.

  Goodness. It was one thing to imagine Caleb in her aunt’s drawing room, and quite another to imagine him as a suitor.

  Just like that, her active imagination fit him into the role quite neatly.

  No, he would never fit in with her aunt and her crowd, but she had no problem imagining him in the role of...

  What? Not a suitor in the traditional sense, obviously.

  She pictured him growling and glaring at the children even as he helped Polly down from his furniture, so she did
not injure herself and how he’d put up with Nicholas’s never-ending questions without complaint.

  Well, without any real complaints. And all that grumping and growling was nothing when his actions proved him to be so kind, so gentle, so—

  “Am I boring you, Abigail?”

  She jerked in her seat as she realized just how far she’d drifted into her fantastical thoughts. “Of course not,” she said stiffly.

  And of course she did not really think of Caleb that way. He was kind to her, that was all. And surprisingly easy to talk to. Not like other men she’d met at all.

  But she supposed that was also why he was not a gentleman she ought to even consider. Because he was leaving. Hadn’t he said as much? Just as soon as Roger was caught or their shoreline was deemed safe. Just a matter of time.

  And she would be right back where he’d found her. In Billingham, teaching children who were not hers and no closer to a family of her own.

  She drew in a deep breath and found another smile that she had to hope made her ‘almost pretty’ in her aunt’s eyes. “I was just thinking, Aunt Lucinda. What sort of gowns do you think I will need?”

  Her maid was silent as they at last made their way out of the stuffy confines of her aunt’s home and into the fresh crisp air.

  She closed her eyes and soaked in the last of the sunshine as it sank below the treeline. At last. While the upcoming trip weighed on her mind, for the moment at least she could go back to her home, to the always welcoming sights and sounds of the seaside, and back to the children and family she loved so much.

  Caleb was leaning against the outside of the carriage. For a moment he didn’t see her and she was free to take him in. She could stare to her heart's content. Her gaze caught on the scar along his jaw.

  How had he gotten that? When? Her belly broke out in a fluttery sensation as she contemplated asking him. After all, they had an entire carriage ride home ahead of them, did they not?

  When she drew closer, she realized that he was occupied with something in his hands. His permanent glower was more intense than usual as he concentrated on whatever it was in his grip.

  It wasn’t until she was at his side that she saw what he was doing. “Are you...are you whittling?”

  His head came up and she felt his gaze collide with hers as if it was a physical connection. A jarring one, at that. She stumbled back a step and started to stumble when his hand came out and caught her elbow, steadying her.

  They were standing too close. His touch felt too intimate.

  She glanced around quickly. Where had Anna gone off to? But she caught sight of her maid’s skirts disappearing into the carriage.

  “Shall we?” She led the way, unable to hold his gaze. Her aunt’s words, their conversation...it followed her into the carriage like a new weight on her shoulders.

  Caleb seemed to know it because while his gaze never left her, he did not question her. He gave her space. Peace.

  She sank back into her seat and listened to Anna’s knitting needles click and clack. She looked out the window, not meeting his gaze even though she could feel it. She could almost hear the questions he was not asking, feel the concern.

  If this were anyone else, she might pretend that all was well. That her heart was not heavy. That she was not dreading the upcoming trip and all it would entail.

  But this was Caleb and, whether he’d liked it or not, they’d spent an inordinate amount of time together. And in that time, they’d gotten to know one another.

  Not that he would admit it. This man would never admit to something so mawkish and maudlin as forming a bond with a simple country lass.

  And that was what she was. She sighed wearily as she watched the trees pass by. That was who she was, and it was who she wished to be. But she supposed everyone had to grow up eventually. And her time had come.

  It was time to don elegant gowns and meet proper gentlemen.

  The sound of his knife cut through her thoughts and for a long while she watched his large, calloused hands work the wood. Such strength and yet such gentleness.

  The man surely was a mystery.

  “What are you making?” Her voice was soft and low, but after such a lengthy silence it seemed like an alarm sounding in the small quiet confines of the carriage. She cringed at the sound of it.

  He, however, merely glanced up at her from beneath lowered brows. Anna looked to be merely half awake as she yawned and worked on the project in her hands.

  “It’s nothing,” he said.

  “Hmm.” She eyed the object. “It almost looks to be...” She glanced up and found his gaze had never wavered even though his head was still tipped down toward the wood. “Is that a child’s top?”

  His grunt was a yes.

  It was an effort to withhold the smile that begged to stretch her lips. That heaviness which had been weighing her down now seemed to lighten in an instant. It was a top. A spinning top.

  Her brute of a pirate was making a toy.

  “Who is it for?”

  He frowned down at it as though the answer eluded him. “I thought it might give Nicholas something to do when you bring him over.” He glanced up as if daring her to laugh.

  She tried to swallow down her amusement, but the urge to laugh would not go away.

  He’d made a top.

  For Nicholas.

  Her heart felt like it might burst, and she bit her lip but it was no use. A smile grew so wide it hurt her cheeks.

  “Mmph.” He made a throaty, rumbly sound that she felt certain she could feel in her belly. “That’s better.”

  “What is?”

  “That smile.” His eyes were still dark, still intent...but she caught it. A flicker of amusement. Or maybe just satisfaction. Either way it warmed her all the way through. “You should always be smiling.”

  You should always be smiling. Said like a command but she knew it for the kindness it was. Her smile grew. “According to my aunt, I’m almost pretty when I smile.” She laughed after she said it, but his frown made her start.

  “Almost pretty?” He huffed and her heart swelled that he was angry on her behalf. “I’ve never heard such nonsense.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip. She ought to change the conversation. That way madness lies. Danger, at the very least. And up until that evening in the cave she would have said that she did not seek out trouble.

  Since then?

  Well, she wasn’t so certain. It was that uncertainty that loosened her tongue. “You do not think I am almost pretty, then?”

  He growled. “You are beautiful and you know it.”

  She grinned. “Thank you, Caleb.”

  He huffed again and looked away. “What did the old witch say to make you unhappy?”

  “You oughtn’t call her that.” Her chiding was too mild even to her own ears. It lacked any sort of conviction.

  He arched a brow to prompt her.

  “Nothing so dreadful. She just wishes to see me wed.”

  He eyed her steadily. “And that is what you want as well.”

  “Indeed.” She just wanted it on her terms, with someone she liked and who might respect her in turn. She wanted...

  Well, she wanted what Minerva had, but she might as well be asking for lightning to strike twice.

  Caleb’s gaze was searching and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to see whatever it was he was looking for. Instead, she dropped her gaze to the piece of wood in his hands.

  “Nicholas will love it.”

  Hmmph. That’s what his huff sounded like. Not much of a response, but he dropped his gaze back to the top.

  She cleared her throat. “His father was injured and hasn’t been able to work, you know—”

  “I know.”

  The words were enough because...he knew. And she knew that that was precisely why he was doing something kind for the boy. Because the already poor family had lost even more this year, and it was beginning to show in Nicholas’s too-worn boots and his too-small clothing.

  Her heart seemed to lodge itself permanently in her throat. For a moment she couldn’t speak. “He’s proud, as well.”

  “So I’ve gathered.”

  “He won’t take it if he thinks it’s charity.”

  He glanced up with a glare. “It’s not charity. This is the only way I can get him to keep his paws off my tools, that’s all.”