Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous by Christi Caldwell Read Free Book Online Page A

her usually always ladylike cousin. “I’m not a broodmare, Abby. I might be a proper English lady, but even I aspire to love.” Her eyes sparkled. “But you mustn’t tell Father. He’d be scandalized.”
    “I’d be scandalized by what?”
    Abigail and Beatrice’s gazes flew to the doorway. The duke stood in the threshold. Several inches greater than six feet, he possessed a wide, broad muscle-hewn frame better reserved for one of the men who worked upon her father’s ships than a peer just a smidgeon shy of royalty. A smile creased the lines of his austere cheeks.
    “Father,” Beatrice murmured, and hurried across the room. She leaned up and placed a kiss upon his cheek.
    An ugly frisson of envy spiraled through Abigail; a longing for the familiar presence of her bear-like father and his booming laugh. Only, the disappointment she’d seen reflected in her own father’s eyes would forever haunt her.
    The duke smiled fondly down at his only daughter, and then shifted his focus to Abigail. “I’d like to speak with you Abigail.”
    She wet her lips as sudden trepidation filled her. What if the duke had somehow learned of Lord Carmichael’s attack? Abigail nodded. “Your Grace.”
    The duke looked to his daughter. “Please excuse us, Beatrice.”
    Clearly accustomed to his ducal orders, Beatrice nodded, with a final glance over at Abigail as she took her leave. She closed the door in her wake; the slight click resounding in the quiet of the room.
    The duke motioned for Abigail to claim her seat and moved deeper into the room, sitting in the wide King Louis chair alongside the yellow velvet sofa. “You are well, Abigail?”
    “Oh, very,” Abigail replied as she took her seat. “Thank you for taking me in.”
    The duke folded his arms across his broad chest. “That is what family does, Abigail.” He frowned. “My father was a foolish, pompous man. He sent your mother away because he disapproved of her wedding your father.”
    “My father was a footman.” Abigail felt the need to remind him.
    A snorting laugh escaped her uncle. “I didn’t say she made an ideal match. But I’d not turn out my own child and force them across the ocean for anything.”
    Abigail’s breath hitched, and she knew the moment her uncle realized what he’d said. He sat back in his chair with a sigh. “Your parents love you dearly, Abigail.”
    “Yes.” Or they had. She suspected Mama and Papa would never truly forgive Abigail her great offense. For that matter, Abigail could not find fault with their decision. They still must consider dear Lizzie, who would one day wed. As a fallen woman, Abigail had greatly hindered her sister’s future opportunities.
    “Your parents want you to make a proper match.”
    She stiffened and smoothed her palms over her skirts. “I—”
    “Need to, Abigail,” he interrupted, his tone a blend of gentle concern and stiff resolve. “Eventually the reason for your visit to London will reach Polite Society.”
    Abigail glanced down at her feet. Some rumor or another about her scandalous past would eventually find its way into London drawing rooms. She’d allowed herself to hope, foolishly, that the distance would protect her.
    Her uncle was relentless. “Do you aspire to a family?”
    Abigail blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpectedness of the question. In spite of Alexander’s treachery, she still longed for a family of her own.
    “Your silence is your answer, Abigail.”
    Geoffrey’s image flitted through her mind. “I’ll not trap a gentleman into marriage.”
    Her uncle leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I’m not asking you to trap a gentleman. You come from noble origins. You are a strong, courageous woman. Not many would brave a long, ocean voyage alone, as you did.”
    She managed a smile. “I grew up on the water, Uncle.”
    A wistful smile tipped his lips up at the corner. “Yes. I do forget that. My sister lived a whole life