Behind the Mask (67 page)

“What if I . . . What if I . . .” Through her shaking and tears she couldn’t even finish a cohesive sentence.

“It’s all right. It’s just one more piece of evidence that God is with us in this.”

Abbi cried harder, but Georg just held her, assuring her that everything would be all right. When she finally calmed down, she looked up at him and asked, “What will you tell Cameron?”

“I’m going to tell him that everything’s fine, that you’ve done beautifully, and there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“But . . .”

“Listen to me, Abbi. You
have
done beautifully. And everything is as fine as it can be. Cameron is having a difficult time with this. He hesitates to admit it, but he’s scared, and he’s discouraged. He fears that he’s put you in the middle of something that will end up hurting you. He’s questioning his judgment.”

Abbi took in this information, realizing that Cameron was putting up a brave front for her, and what did she do but complain and contribute to his difficult feelings?

“Do you question his judgment, Georg?” she asked.

“Not very often, and especially not when it comes to you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I believe if you keep giving him the hope he needs, he’ll make it through this. I want you to go upstairs and freshen up, then you go out to the stable and let him know everything is perfect.”

Abbi nodded stoically. “Thank you. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for all you’ve given me.”

“Payment is not my motive. You know that. To see you and Cameron together and happy when this is done will mean more to me than words could ever say. And we will all live happily ever after.”

Abbi laughed softly and went upstairs to wash her face. Going back to the stable, she found Georg oiling a saddle, and she greeted him with a smile. Coming close enough to be discreet, she whispered, “Is he still here?”

Georg glanced toward the loft. “I think he’s asleep.”

“May I?” she asked with mischief.

Georg smiled innocently, mimicking with gestures that he’d pretend he didn’t even know she was there.

Climbing the ladder, Abbi peered over the edge and saw Cameron sleeping in the soft straw. She crept quietly on her hands and knees, then leaned on one elbow next to him, carefully tickling his nose with a piece of straw. She couldn’t help snickering as his face twitched and his hand brushed across his nose. Still he slept on. She continued to toy with him until he finally opened his eyes and grinned as he pushed Abbi back into the straw and kissed her.

“Wretched woman,” he said and they laughed together. “Georg,” he called with mock anger.

“What is it, Cam?” Georg called back innocently.

“I thought you said you were going to protect me.”

“That woman’s no match for any man. You can fight her off on your own. I’ll not risk it!”

“I’ll not argue she’s a handful,” Cameron said. “But I’ve already lost this fight.” He smiled lovingly at her. “I surrendered.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too. I’m glad you came back. I’ve missed you desperately.”

“Can you come to my room tonight?”

“I’m not certain. I have to find out what my agenda is. Georg keeps me on a tight leash, as you can see.” He kissed her again. “But I will certainly do my best.”

“That’s all I ask,” she said and kissed him in return.

Chapter Nineteen

GHOSTS

A
fter Cameron picked all of the straw out of Abbi’s hair, she was delighted to return to the house and find that her aunts were going out for the evening. They had recently become involved with a ladies’ social club that met weekly to play card games, share dinner, and mostly to visit. And tonight was the night. They invited Abbi to come along since Lance was tied up with work all evening, but she pleaded fatigue and stayed behind, only too happy to have the house to herself.

However, as she stood at the drawing room window, watching the carriage roll away with her aunts inside, Abbi felt a pang of loneliness. She ached to spend this time with Cameron, and wondered if he would be able to come tonight. Of course, even if he did, it wouldn’t be for hours yet. Still, Abbi enjoyed having her run of the drawing room without her aunts sitting about prattling. She sat down with the old sketchbook she had dug out recently and began to draw Cameron’s face looking down at her from the loft. It was just beginning to take shape when she looked up to see Marta in the doorway.

“There’s a gentleman here to see you,” she said. Abbi hadn’t heard the door. She wanted to ask who it was, but Marta was gone before she had a chance. She wondered if Lance had taken the evening off after all. The thought made her weary. She enjoyed his company, but she was tired of keeping up pretenses, and she knew she’d be spending tomorrow evening with him when they planned to attend the opera. A moment later she heard Marta say, “Right this way, sir.”

Abbi glanced up and caught her breath. “Cameron,” she muttered and came to her feet, dropping the book and pencil to the floor just as Marta closed the drawing room doors, leaving them alone. He walked slowly toward her while she took in his attire. He wore a stylish black coat, and a waistcoat of blue brocade that complimented the color of his eyes. A neatly tied cravat surrounded the high collar of his white shirt. But the most striking difference was to see him in these surroundings. It was an entirely new experience to formally receive him in the drawing room, and it occurred to Abbi how limited their life together had been.

He bent down to pick up her sketchbook and pencil, setting them on the side table.

“Thank you,” she said.

He took her hand and kissed it, watching her eyes closely. “My lady. It is truly a pleasure.”

“You look very nice.” She smiled. “But . . . what is it that brings you here this evening?” Abbi couldn’t help wondering and had to ask, “Are you making yourself public?”

“Do you see any public present?” he asked lightly, looking around him. “I came to see
you.”

“What a nice surprise,” she said, seating herself on the sofa.

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.” He sat down beside her and took her hand. “Did you ever wonder what it might have been like if we had met and courted like normal people do?”

Abbi sighed. “It might have crossed my mind . . . but I think it would have been terribly dull.”

Cameron laughed. “Dull, perhaps . . . but safer that way.”

Abbi shrugged her shoulders. “Dull.”

“Georg thought it would be nice for us to share a
normal
evening together. Apparently he knew your aunts would be leaving, and Marta gave most of the servants the night off.”

“Really?” Abbi laughed. “How . . . conspiring of them.”

He looked down at his clothes, pressing his hands over the lapels of his jacket. “Fortunately, Georg and I are about the same size. I believe he got it for the wedding.”

“What a nice thought. And what will
you
wear to the wedding?”

Cameron smiled. “My uniform, of course.”

Abbi returned his smile. “Of course.”

Cameron glanced around to acquaint himself with the room, and Abbi thought how comfortable he looked in such surroundings. Soon it would be an everyday occurrence.

“Your home is lovely,” he said.

“Would you like to see more?”

“Yes, I would,” he said with enthusiasm.

Cameron stood and held out his hand for her just as Marta appeared in the doorway.

“Excuse me,” she smiled slyly, “but dinner is served.” She disappeared and Cameron held out his arm for Abbi.

Cameron made a mental note to thank Georg for making it possible to spend this time with Abbi. The simple act of walking down the hall with her to go to dinner put a taste of normalcy into his life that he’d not experienced for years. As they entered the dining room, Cameron looked around with interest, but when he pulled out a chair for Abbi to be seated, his attention focused completely on her. Holding her hand across the table, he couldn’t keep his eyes away. He had always thought she was beautiful, and always known she was a lady. But it felt good to just be with her like this, and to have a taste of what it would be like to be openly married to her.
Only a few more days,
he reminded himself.

“It’s been a long time,” Abbi said as they began to eat.

“What’s that?”

“Since we’ve sat together and shared a meal.”

“Yes, it has.” His eyes caressed her face. “But it was never quite like this.”

“It does feel different.”

“We’ll get used to it, I think.”

The meal passed mostly in silence as they watched each other intently, neither uncomfortable at the other’s overt gaze. When they had finished eating, Cameron slid his chair back, saying, “I believe you owe me a tour of the house.”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” She took his hand and led him toward the hallway. “We shall need a lamp,” she added. “Most of the house is dark.”

Abbi laughed as they started up the stairs, finding perfect joy in having him with her this way. Like two children on a wild exploration, they went to the top of the house and worked their way down, peeking into nearly every room and lingering a little in some. Cameron seemed both curious and impressed, and Abbi felt a sense of pride in what her grandfather had left for her.

Back on the ground floor, he found a fascination with the library. They stayed there for quite some time while he examined the vast shelves of books, and occasionally took one down to glance through it. Abbi sat quietly admiring him until he seemed satisfied. He stood and folded one arm over the other. “I’m impressed,” he said. “Your home is exquisite, and very tasteful.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You realize of course, that as my husband, it all belongs to you now.”

“That thought had occurred to me,” he said without expression. Then he looked alarmed and turned to face her. “I hope you know that had nothing to do with my reasons for marrying you.”

“Of course. But being my husband makes you a very wealthy man.”

He took her hand and kissed it with reverence, saying quietly, “Abbi, I became a very wealthy man the moment I realized you loved me. Nothing else matters.” She smiled and kissed his hand in return. He looked around the library once more and added facetiously, “It
is
nice to know we’ll never go hungry, however.”

She laughed and said, “Now that everything is yours, Georg is actually working for
you.”

“So he is.” Cameron chuckled. “I’ll be certain to remind him at every possible moment.”

“However, you must still do whatever he tells you. He does a very good job at keeping you safe.”

“So he does.”

“We’re not done yet.” Abbi stood and handed the lamp to Cameron.

“Lead the way.”

They peeked into a few more rooms that held little interest, but when they came to the winter parlor, Abbi deliberately walked past the door.

“Wait,” Cameron said. “What’s wrong with this room?” He pointed at the door with his thumb, but Abbi didn’t answer. “Ghosts?” he teased.

“In a sense, perhaps.”

“Why?”

“This was my mother’s favorite room. I played in there a great deal as a child before she died. Then, for years, my grandfather and I would just sit in there to feel close to her. We both missed her very much. I haven’t been in there since the night he died.”

“I want to see.”

“Very well,” she said, and he pushed the door open slowly, holding the lamp high to illuminate the room. Abbi hovered in the doorway until Cameron turned to look at her, his expression intrigued. Wondering for a moment if he truly had seen a ghost, she stepped into the room just as he set the lamp on the old grand piano. He folded back the cover from the keys and touched them reverently.

“Do you play?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, “I had a few lessons when I was younger, but it was hopeless. My mother played very well. Papa said she was gifted.”

“Then there
are
ghosts in this room,” he said, “but only because you let them stay.” He turned his attention to the keyboard, running his long fingers lightly along the top of the ivory. “May I?” he asked without looking at her.

“Of course,” she replied, not certain what to expect.

Cameron seated himself at the bench and held up his hands. After stretching his fingers elaborately, he looked up at Abbi with a tense smile and said, “It’s been a long time.”

Abbi sat close by, thoroughly fascinated to see him this way. He tucked one foot underneath the bench and placed the other near the pedals. As his hands came down and struck a clear chord, he gave a barely detectable smile, then he slowly began playing his fingers along the keyboard until he gained some confidence after his many years without this opportunity. Following several minutes of warming up, he tucked his hair behind his ear and looked over at Abbi. “I’d like to play a song for you.”

“I’d be honored,” she said, still attempting to absorb this as a part of the man she loved. His countenance became serene as he skillfully worked his hands into a lilting melody; sad and sweet, with a unique quality that was intricately played. Once or twice he hit a wrong note, but he only smiled and kept playing. Knowing how long it had been since he’d been anywhere near a piano, Abbi felt in awe, even humbled by his skill. It was a part of Cameron she never would have suspected. But to see him seated at the piano as if he were born to it, she couldn’t help but wonder what other aspects of him she had yet to discover. The thought gave her a secret thrill. For the moment she was content just to watch him play. This was obviously something important to him that he had missed through his years of seclusion.