Simply Irresistible (3 page)

Chapter 3

Abby put on her bonnet and walked quietly down into the hall of the Sokorvsky town house. It was well before midday and there was no sign of the butler as she tiptoed quietly toward the main door.

“Lady Beecham?”

She turned to find Valentin coming down the stairs and forced herself to smile.

“Good morning, my lord.”

He bowed. “Do you have a moment to speak with me?”

She stared at his austere face, noting the determination in his gaze, and exhaled.

“If I must.”

He nodded and started walking toward his study, which was in the opposite direction from the front door. With a resigned sigh, she followed him and waited as he shut the door behind them and took up his position behind his desk.

As he opened his mouth, she held up her gloved hand. “I know what you are going to say, Valentin: that I am hurting Peter, and that is not acceptable to you. I also know that in the event that I break off my relationship with him, you and Sara will stand his friends.”

Valentin raised an eyebrow as he took his seat. “You seem remarkably well informed about my intentions for a woman who hasn't yet allowed me to speak.”

“Because I know you. You will always defend Peter.”

“You assume I haven't come to care for you? You share my bed, too.”

“Occasionally, but you don't care for me in the same way you care for Peter.”

Valentin sat back and studied her. “My feelings for Peter are my own. My feelings for you are perhaps deeper than you might imagine.”

She shrugged. “You allowed me into your bed because Peter wanted it.”

“That is correct, but that doesn't mean I haven't come to appreciate you in your own right.”

“Don't be nice to me, Valentin.” She dashed away a tear from her cheek. “I don't deserve it. I'm not going to allow this impossible situation to continue.”

Silence fell as he continued to study her.

“I don't blame you for wanting more, but I don't think this is the correct solution, Abigail.”

“Then what is? I can't give him what he wants. He needs his own family. You must at least acknowledge that.”

“You and Jamie are his family. From what I understand, he might even be your son's father.”

“By law, Jamie is my husband's heir. Peter would not want that to change.
None
of us wish to deny Jamie his birthright.”

“So you will sacrifice what you have together for your son?”

Abby's temper overrode her sadness. “Wouldn't you do the same thing?”

Valentin sighed. “Damnation. Yes, I should imagine I would.”

“Then try to understand why I am doing this. If we separate now, Peter will have time to find a new lover and have a family of his own.”

“But he won't, because he loves you.”

She raised her chin. “Then you will have another reason to blame me, won't you?”

He glanced down at his clasped hands. “I'm not your enemy, Abigail. I want you and Peter to be happy.”

“And he'll never be content as long as we are in this situation. He isn't happy now.”

“Because he is worried about you.”

Abby shook her head. “You aren't telling me anything I don't already know. I am the only one who has the ability to make a decision to change things.”

“Even if it hurts everyone you love?”

She stood up. “
Yes
.”

“Will you at least speak to Peter before you make your final decision?” Valentin hesitated. “I am concerned that if you don't, he will do something stupid.”

“Good Lord, Valentin, are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

Valentin rose, too, his expression hardening. “Not at all. I've known Peter for a long time and have experienced his . . . excesses.”

“You think if I abandon him, he will turn back to opium and drink?” Abby covered her mouth with her hand.

“Why would he not? You are considering taking away everything he loves.”

“Apart from you.”

There was an answering flash of anger in his violet eyes. “I'll stand by him. You can be assured of that.”

“Then he is luckier than I am. I'll have no one.” She curtsied. “Please look after him, Lord Sokorvsky. I'm going out to speak to my solicitor. When I return, I will find myself a hotel to stay in until I return to Beecham Hall.”

She turned away, her throat tight with unshed tears and her heart racing. She'd known the interview would be unpleasant, but she hadn't realized quite how bad it would be.

“Abby.”

“What?”

“Please don't do this. You will destroy him.”

She briefly closed her eyes. “I have to. Neither of us can go on like this. We've started to resent each other, are denied children and have to pretend to the world that we are nothing more than mistress and servant. I can't do it anymore. And neither can Peter. It is
destroying
us.”

He sat back down and shoved a hand through his hair. “Promise me you will at least listen to him.”

“Of course I will.”

“Then I can ask no more of you. And if you cannot resolve this matter, I will help him through it.”

“I know.” She attempted a smile. “He is lucky to have you as his friend.”

She practically ran back down the hallway and exited the house. The butler called after her, but she would rather walk the short distance to her solicitors than wait for her carriage and risk seeing Peter or Sara emerge from their rooms.

It took most of her walk to calm down and breathe normally. She couldn't even blame Valentin for trying to shame her into staying with Peter. He wasn't known as a ruthless businessman for nothing. And when it came to his best friend, he would do anything to save him pain. He was fond of her, but he loved Peter.

When she rapped on the front door of Messrs. Bell and Merriweather, she was immediately escorted up the stairs and into the solicitor's office.

The solicitor stood to greet her. “Ah, Lady Beecham, good morning. Thank you so much for agreeing to attend me here.”

She took the seat in front of his desk and smoothed down her skirts. “Good morning, Mr. Bell.”

He opened a large file and sifted through the documents within before extracting several of them. “I have received several communications from your husband in the last month, which he insisted I share with you.” He looked at her over the top of his spectacles. “Not that he needs to do that in legal terms, as you are merely his wife, but he still insisted you needed to be kept informed.”

“That was very good of him.”

“Then we will proceed.” Mr. Bell picked up the first document. “Your husband has signed over the property known as Trade Winds House to a Mr. Jeremiah Hodges. He has also given Mr. Hodges control of the sugar mill and the plantation that surrounds the house.”

Abigail tried to look interested as opposed to alarmed. “I believe Mr. Hodges is the current overseer of the estate.”

“That is correct. Apparently, your husband no longer wishes to own the plantation because he is opposed to the slave trade. He also says he has complete confidence in Mr. Hodges's ability to run the place.” Mr. Bell studied the text of the document. “The wording of this agreement means that the plantation is no longer considered part of the Beecham estate and cannot be claimed by you or his heirs.”

“I doubt young Jamie will notice the difference.”

“The plantation provides a decent income, Lady Beecham, but you are correct. It will not affect the overall financial security of the future Lord Beecham.”

“Is there anything else?” Abby asked.

Was Mr. Bell about to suggest the plantation had been handed over under duress? Or was he satisfied by James's explanation? Abby couldn't tell.

Mr. Bell leaned forward, and she stiffened. “A letter for you was enclosed in the documents.”

“Thank you.” Abigail took the sealed note, which smelled of spices and the sea.

“And if you are content with the new distribution of shares for the Trade Winds estate, Lord Beecham asks that when you write to him next you put that agreement in writing. As I mentioned, there is no legal reason for this, but I applaud his lordship for making sure you are aware of the current dispositions of your son's inheritance.”

“I'll write to him this evening and send the letter to you to include in your package of documents.”

“Lord Beecham also approved several amendments to the overall running of his estates here in England. Your land agent, Mr. Howard, suggested most of them. With his renewed interest in setting the estate to rights, one has to wonder if his lordship plans to return for good.”

“That would be delightful.” Abby smiled. “He misses Jamie very much.”

“Perhaps he will mention his plans in his letter.”

“If he does, I will make sure I pass the news on to you.” Abby put the letter in her reticule. She had no intention of reading it in front of Mr. Bell. “If there is nothing else to discuss, I must be on my way. I do have another appointment.”

That at least was the truth, although she would be happy to delay her meeting with Peter for a lifetime. Mr. Bell rose ponderously from his chair, bowed and moved to open the door for her.

“A pleasure, Lady Beecham.”

She nodded and swept past him, her head held high, and made her way down the stairs and back into the street. To her surprise, one of the Sokorvsky footmen was waiting outside and immediately fell into step behind her. Doing her best to ignore the man, she turned back the way she had come, forcing herself to return to the house.

When they reached the front door of the modest town house, the footman stepped up beside her and cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, my lady, but Mr. Howard asked if you would meet him in the drawing room when you returned.”

A sudden thought paralyzed her on the threshold. Oh dear God, if James
was
coming back to England, she had to make sure that Peter was completely free of her. She couldn't subject him to seeing James reclaim his place beside her.

“Thank you.”

Abby nodded and, barely restraining her instinct to turn and run, went up the stairs and allowed the footman to open the door into the drawing room for her. Peter stood by the fire, his back to her as he paced the expensive carpet. He wore a blue coat and black trousers that fitted him perfectly. She paused to study his lithe frame and the gold of his hair, suddenly, agonizingly aware that she might never see him like this again.

“Lady Beecham.” He bowed and glanced over her shoulder at the servant. “Would you be so kind as to bring us some tea?”

Abby sat down and busied herself removing her bonnet and opening her pelisse to let the warmth of the fire in. Peter took the chair opposite her.

“Are you all right, Abby?” he asked softly.

“I'm perfectly well. I just saw James's solicitor.”

His face went still. “About me?”

“No; what would my discussion with Mr. Bell have to do with you?”

“Because it would be an excellent plan to ask James's legal representative to dismiss me.”

She brought her head up to meet his wary gaze. “You think so poorly of me that you believe I would use someone else to dismiss you?”

“No, I just thought it might make it easier all around.” He hesitated. “I'm not your enemy, Abby.”

“I don't wish to dismiss you. I think you should resign.”

He sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, as if he didn't have a care in the world. “And why is that?”

“Because it will cause less gossip.”

“Ah, and thus affect you and Jamie less.”

“And you.” She held his gaze. “You
choosing
to leave my employ rather than being let go means you found me wanting, as opposed to the other way around.”

“That's very . . . good of you.” He looked down at his hands. “You are determined that we should part, then?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?”

“I . . . don't think so.”

He came down on his knees in front of her in one fluid motion. “Abby, if you want a child, I'll give you one. I'll do anything you want, if you'll just—”

She touched a finger to his lips, silencing him. “We've discussed and argued about this endlessly, and there isn't a way we can be together without someone getting hurt. And I can't let that someone be Jamie, who has sinned against no one and doesn't deserve to have his reputation ruined before he's even breeched.”

He began to speak and then stopped and nodded. “I don't want to hurt Jamie either.”

“Then we have no choice but to stop wishing for things we can't have and making each other miserable. We need to move on with our lives.” Her eyes filled with tears. “This isn't because I don't love you, Peter; it's because I
do
. I can't bear to do this to you anymore—to never be able to give you everything. And you deserve
everything
, you really do.”

He took her hand. His fingers were trembling as much as hers. “And what if I know in my soul that I will never love another woman as I love you?”

“I hope you are wrong about that.” She tried to smile through her tears. “I would gladly yield my place to another woman if she could make you happy.”

The chink of china coming from the hall forced Peter back into his seat as the door opened and the footman returned with the tea tray. Just to have something to do with her hands, Abby busied herself pouring tea that she suspected neither of them would drink. She handed Peter a cup, noticing the defeated sag of his shoulders and the calm, distant expression he always assumed when he was suffering deeply inside.