Page 92 of Never Dare a Duke
Abigail didn’t know how she kept her tears inside until she reached her room, but somehow she did. And then she cried as she hadn’t since she was a little girl. She’d known her affair with the duke could never last, but hadn’t imagined how tragic and sad the ending would be.
At last she dried her tears, washed her face, and concentrated on her resolve. She could never have him, never let him know she’d fallen in love with him, but she could write this article and counter the blows to his reputation.
His mistrust hurt, she could not deny it. But as she became more rational, she understood and even accepted it. He was a private man whom she was once going to betray. Because of her promises, he’d thought she wouldn’t, had thought their intimacy was more important than a story, and now she was proving him wrong.
When he read it, he would understand. It was the last gift she could give him.
There was a soft knock on her door, and for only a moment, she thought it might be he. But she knew better.
Gwen peeked in. “Are you alone?”
Abigail smiled grimly. “Shouldn’t I be?”
Gwen shrugged as she shut the door. “I thought perhaps you were having better luck with the duke than I was having with the vicar.”
“Still no proposal?”
She shook her head, but her confident smile had returned at last. “But I think he finally understands how I feel about him. At least my kiss should have shown him. Perhaps he means to ask my father’s permission to marry me first.” She lifted her chin.
Abigail grinned. “I am so happy for you.” Then she sobered. “But you need to know that I must leave today.”
Gwen sat down beside her with a tired sigh. “So you saw the newspaper article.”
“Hasn’t everyone?”
She nodded glumly. “And the duke didn’t believe that you wouldn’t write one, too?”
“I told him I was going to.”
Gwen’s head came up in shock. “But—oh, I see, you’re going to write a better one, one that will show what kind of man he is.”
Sighing, Abigail nodded. “At least you see what I mean to do. You trust me; Chris doesn’t.”
“And yet you’re still going to write it.”
“I have to. It’s something I can do for him.”
“Because you can’t be with him again?” Gwen said softly.
Abigail’s eyes stung, and she gave her friend a mock glare. “Now do not start with me. I am not a fool. There is no future for a journalist and a duke.”
“But you love him.”
Abigail shrugged, feeling rueful. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does! Doesn’t he understand that?”
“He doesn’t know. How could I tell him something that would hurt him?”
“But he had no problem hurting you, if your swollen eyes are any evidence.”
“Do not blame him, Gwen. He is hurting. But I can make it better. He’ll see that. You’ll…tell me how he is occasionally, won’t you?”
Gwen gripped her hand and nodded.
“Could I borrow your carriage? I will send it right back.”
“Of course! As I said, I’m not going anywhere. And I have to see who won the ghost contest.”
