How to Catch a Duke (Rogues to Riches #6) - Grace Burrowes Page 0,108
order his existence?”
“You are his father.” Abigail’s brow had acquired an encouraging crease, and she spoke with less certainty than she’d enjoyed previously.
“In a biological sense, I am his father, but I will not take the path Jack Wentworth would take and exploit such a relationship for my own convenience. I want to know Nicky, I want to be a father in any sense that contributes to the child’s welfare, but that does not have to be a public undertaking. Then too, there’s the whole business of Harmonia’s wishes. She brought that boy into the world, and she’s the only parent he’s known. Her welfare matters too.”
Abigail was quiet for so long that Stephen’s bum took exception to the hardness of the bench, and yet he waited.
“What did Harmonia have to say about all this?”
“A very great deal. She wants a small estate in Kent and Endymion de Beauharnais’s ring on her finger. She does not want me.”
“She’s daft.”
How I love you. “Perhaps, but de Beauharnais truly has her best interests at heart, and he’s protective of Nicky.”
Abigail gathered up her reticule again. “Harmonia is passing up your tiara to raise sheep in Kent?”
“And perhaps to give Nicky some siblings to boss about. Are you abandoning me yet again?”
“This bench is making my backside ache. I have much to think about.”
Stephen rose and shrugged out of his cloak, then laid it on the bench. “Move closer to me. You’ll be more comfortable.”
Abigail sank onto the bench, and Stephen came down immediately beside her. The next time she tried to bolt, he would seize her by the hand if need be.
“This is complicated,” Abigail said slowly.
“It doesn’t have to be.” He ventured an arm along the back of the bench. “I love you, and I would like to spend the rest of my life with you. I will play whatever role in Nicky’s life best suits his needs, but that in no way precludes me from being a loyal, faithful, and passionate husband to you.”
Abigail’s head came to rest on his shoulder. “You’re sure, Stephen? I have strong opinions, I will not be told what to do, and God help anybody who speaks ill of those I care about.”
He shifted closer and took Abigail’s hand. “Do you know why I hate society balls?”
“Because of the dancing?”
“That too, but mostly because they are just too damned long. Standing about in the buffet line, trying to manage two plates and a cane, standing in the reception line, struggling through a promenade…But when I was your escort, I could lean on you.”
“Lean on me?”
“Physically.” He demonstrated. “Lean on you, and sturdy creature that you are, you don’t even notice. My leg barely hurt at all the morning after the Portman do. Harmonia showed me to the nursery today. It never occurred to her that navigating stairs would be hard for me. She tore around that house like a whirlwind, and I could barely keep up. I don’t have to ask you to slow down. You are inherently considerate, and I treasure that about you.”
Abigail’s fingers closed around his. “Your brother said something to me today.”
“If Quinn was impolite to you, he’s a dead big brother.”
“He was very kind. He said a duke fights the hard battles, the thankless battles, because he wants to be worthy of the duchess riding at his side. He’s a good man, your brother.”
“He’s a good man in part because he found the right duchess.”
Abigail curled closer, scandalously, marvelously close. “I want to be the sort of woman who can inspire a duke to fight the hard battles. The battles in the Lords, the battles for the children, for decency, for wounded soldiers, and so much more. I want to be the sort of woman who can love my husband’s son, even if nobody knows he’s my husband’s son, and who can ride into battle beside the man I love.”
A peace settled over Stephen, and a profound joy warmed his heart. “Say that last part again, please.”
“I love you.”
“Do you know what’s wonderful, Miss Abigail Abbott?”
“You are.”
“Mayhap I am, but what’s wonderful is you don’t expect me to propose on bended knee, and if I were ambitious enough to attempt such a feat, you’d help me up at the conclusion of my soliloquy.”
She peered over at him. “Would you like to propose on bended knee?”
Stephen thought about it, thought about getting mud on his breeches, and making a complete cake of himself in the middle of the afternoon, and of