David took the envelope, a small ripple of unease curling through him. He would now have the opportunity to speak privately with Peter, but Abigail’s dinner would be spoiled because of it. “That is very kind of her. Of you both. I’d be honored to attend.”
Watson shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable with his errand. “Well, we will see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” David closed the door on Peter slowly, and waited ‘till he’d returned to his own house before rejoining Miss Watson down the hall. However, the closet was empty when he opened the door.
When he checked the house, Abigail had vanished as if she’d never been there at all.
CHAPTER NINE
Abigail threw herself over Imogen’s bed and covered her face with both hands. “I am in so much trouble.”
Imogen, seated at her desk by the window, calmly packed away her papers before patting Abigail’s head. “I take it Mr. Hawke has delivered his bad news.”
She lifted her head from the counterpane. “No, he hasn’t spoken to Peter. The wait may be killing me, but it is so much worse than that.” David’s bad news paled in comparison to her situation. She had made a terrible mistake and had no idea what to do to rectify the situation. Abigail rolled over and stared at the square white ceiling above her, wishing she could hide from the truth. She was a wicked, wanton woman who couldn’t control her riotous imagination. Visions of yesterday’s visit to David Hawke’s house wouldn’t leave her. Another blush heated her cheeks as she remembered the sight of him propped up in his wide bed, and the brief flashes of his bare skin made her breath catch even now.
Imogen sat next to her. “Then you haven’t spoken to Peter about marriage to Miss Merton?”
Abigail shook her head. “Not yet. I haven’t had an opportunity.”
“Well I cannot say I’m disappointed,” her friend told her. “Your brother could do far better than to marry a woman who’d make him miserable with every word she uttered. I’ve never known anyone to be so disagreeable so often. Is there anything she does like?”
“I do hope so.” Abigail fidgeted. Miss Merton’s exacting nature was a considerable hurdle to overcome. “Otherwise I don’t know what else I’ll do. It seems like the only choice now.”
Imogen clasped her hand tightly. “Peter will find a way out, I’m sure. He always manages to land on his feet. But is that the only matter of concern? You seem more troubled than I’ve ever seen you.”
Abigail drew in a deep breath. She had been bursting to tell Imogen about her encounters with David since the moment they had happened. But she’d never felt so confused before. Kissing David was both desirable and wrong. He’d made it very plain he wasn’t interested in sharing further kisses. “I kissed David Hawke the night he arrived in Brighton.”
Imogen’s sharp intake of breath made her wince. “And you waited ‘till now to tell me?”
Abigail covered her hot face with her hands. “Actually, the kiss was a few days ago and I was embarrassed. I am still embarrassed,” she mumbled. Not exactly true but close enough. The embarrassment stemmed mainly from her wish for further kisses and David’s reluctance to grant them.
Imogen pulled Abigail’s hands away from her face so she couldn’t hide, her brow creased with concern. “Embarrassed? Why? Was it ghastly? Does he have foul breath?”
“No, the exact opposite of ghastly.” Abigail closed her eyes, remembering the slight rasp of his evening whiskers against her lips. Yesterday morning he’d looked so handsomely disheveled, his jaw so dark with new growth that she’d had to touch, she couldn’t not think about him every moment since. She covered her eyes to block out the memory. But it was no use. He had managed to replace every foolish fantasy she’d ever entertained about men. “He kisses very well. However, I do not believe David would agree with me. He didn’t appear happy afterward.”
“Well, the nerve of him.” Imogen grew an inch in height, full of righteous indignation. “I hope you can put the incident from your mind. There are many men with better manners.”
If only words could expunge her wickedness. “Imogen, I’m afraid there is more,” Abigail said softly. Better to get the whole truth out before she lost her courage. Imogen would never tell and could be counted on to offer sound guidance.
“Oh dear, have you made a fool of yourself over him?” Imogen hurried to the door, peeked out, and then closed it fully to give them privacy. When she returned, she gave Abigail’s hand a squeeze. “Did you expect him to propose because of a single kiss? I know for a fact that gentlemen place little importance on a girl’s first kiss. As long as no one sees, they never think of it again.”
“Two kisses. But the lack of proposal is not what concerns me. I never thought he would look at me in that way. He’s much too grand.” She shook her head again. “However, I went to his house yesterday.” And she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of returning to see more of David Hawke since: his broad shoulders, his muscular arms, his utterly devastating smile when he laughed. He made her feel completely different than usual and she had no idea what to do about it or him.
“Abigail,” Imogen cried out. “Are you all right? Did he impose on you?”
“Of course I am all right,” Abigail groaned. “Why would you imagine I wouldn’t be? Mr. Hawke is a gentleman.”
Far too much of a gentleman, in fact. He’d had ample opportunity to kiss her, touch her, and had not taken advantage of the situation. It had been decidedly lowering to be so unable to stir him
to the same passion he inflicted on her senses while she couldn’t seem to behave properly in his presence.
“Not much of a gentleman to have kissed you and not proposed.” Imogen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now, because you are such an innocent in the ways of men, I want you to explain to me exactly what happened between you both. I’ll force his hand toward matrimony if he’s led you astray.”
Panic rose in Abigail’s chest. “Don’t you dare do such a thing. He did nothing wrong. I was worried about him,” she said, her voice softening on the last. She squared her shoulders. “No one could recall seeing David since he went swimming on Sunday morning. By Monday morning I was concerned and went to call on his housekeeper. She said he was still abed and complained he’d not bothered to eat the meal she’d prepared the day before. The moment his breath drifted over my finger while he slept brought tears of relief to my eyes. I’ve never known someone to sleep so soundly. He didn’t stir except to breathe.”
“But, Abigail, he can take care of himself and always has,” Imogen said sternly. “You should not have risked your reputation like that.”
“That was exactly what he said, but I’d like to know who does worry for him,” she demanded. Poor David had no one else that she could see. “Certainly not his housekeeper. None of his friends, our brothers, called at his house this morning to inquire about his absence.”