Page 57 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

“I am not completely sure,” Sabrina demurred. “I should consult with Dr. Faraday in the morning.”

“Then we shall wake him this minute,” Riordan cried happily.

Before, they had spoken in hushed tones, but with this happy announcement, the voices had grown louder, which caused Garrett to stir. Regardless, Abbie rushed to Sabrina, pulling her into a warm embrace. “I am very happy for you.”

“Thank you, Abbie. And Riordan, allow the poor man to sleep. The doctor and your uncle.”

Everyone laughed.

“No!” Garrett cried out.

The laughter ceased and all eyes turned to him. He was struggling to sit upright, but could not accomplish it. Abbie rushed to his side, but he thrust her away, still surprisingly strong considering his weakened and feverish condition. She almost lost her balance and fell to the floor. His eyes were glassy, his look wild. “Get away from me, far away. I don’t want you near me, not ever again. I want you out of my life,” Garrett snarled, his voice full of venom. “The curse. It exists. It is real and will consume us all. I want you gone!”

Abbie’s blood ran cold. He still believed in it. All his talk about putting the miserable curse behind him had been wishful thinking. Call it what it truly was: lies. This hurt as much as it had fourteen years past. Perhaps more. She had placed her faith, hope, and worst of all, her heart in his hands, and he ruined it. Again. Abbie turned and left. Once in the hall, she broke into a run until she reached her room.

She was about to close the door, but Julian stopped her. “Abbie, don’t listen to him. He is still in a fevered state. He’s out of his head and doesn’t know what he is saying.”

Stepping away from the door, she clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking. “People often speak truth in fevered states. How they truly feel deep down.” Should she be discussing this with Garrett’s brother? Abbie buried her face in her hands. “This will never work, Julian. Your brother is stubborn and will never embrace love and life fully. He is damaged inside, and my love cannot fix him.”

Julian clasped her arms. “It is difficult to completely erase years of belief in a few short weeks. Yes, he’s damaged inside. We all are, in various ways. We’ve been touched by tragedy on many levels. It has affected Garrett more than any of us realized.”

Abbie frowned, but met his earnest and sympathetic gaze. “I understand, believe me, I do. He told me of his childhood losses and how he’d been affected by them. But most people put tragedy behind them and move forward with living. I mourned my husband, I still do, but I am ready and willing to take another chance at life. Can you say the same? Will you acknowledge your feelings for Alberta? Or will you stay cloistered away in this hall with the rest of the men?”

Julian’s arms dropped to his sides, his expression grew chilly. She may have gone too far. “My feelings for Alberta are not your affair.”

She glared at him. “Then my feelings for Garrett are none of yours.”

They stared at each other as if they were adversaries on a battlefield. Who would yield first?

“Touché. Well struck,” Julian said as a brief smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. “I shouldn’t interfere, but I ask you to please stay and fight for Garrett. I know that I’m asking you to sacrifice much here.”

Abbie exhaled. “That is one of the reasons I came here, to fight for our love. To see if it still existed. It does, but I’m weary from the constant conflict, Julian. He hurt me, wounded me deeply all those years ago. I refuse to even give him the chance to wreak more damage. We are leaving.”

Julian’s eyebrow arched. “Abbie…”

“We were going to depart this week at any rate. Garrett is fully aware of our plans, and I aim to stick to them. When the fever breaks, we will return to Standon. Though I must hire a carriage…”

“If you insist on leaving, allow me to make the arrangements. Garrett will never forgive me if I do not see to yours and Megan’s safety. Use one of our coaches, and I’ll send along Samuel, one of our grooms, to act as protector. He’s an ex-soldier and a formidable presence. You have a spare room at your residence?”

Abbie nodded.

“Excellent. He will stay with you until this situation is resolved. We’re not sure what Sutherhorne is up to, so we cannot take the chance that he will seek you out to exact revenge on Garrett. There’s no doubt why he or his man fired in your direction.” Julian exhaled. “We can better protect you if you stay here, but I understand why you feel compelled to leave. Garrett is not perfect. None of the Wollstonecraft men are.”

“I love him for that very reason. And he loves me despite my flaws.” Abbie paused. “I will see Garrett before I depart. I promise. I will tell him everything I’ve told you, and more besides. He will have to make a choice. It’s a life with our daughter—or the curse. I will not accept any middle ground.” She gave Julian a warm smile. “Thank you for listening. I did not mean to pull any of you into this situation.”

Julian took her hand and kissed it. “You are family. The Wollstonecrafts look out for one another. Support each other. We may not give our hearts easily, but when we do, we love fiercely. Remember that.”

A lump of emotion wedged in her throat. If she replied, she would burst into noisy sobs. Abbie nodded instead. Julian departed, closing the door softly behind him. Bringing her hand to her heart, it formed a fist. Her heart ached. Had Garrett broken it once again? Perhaps not, but there was a fissure. In the final analysis, if he ultimately chose the curse over her, she knew that the break would be permanent.

* * * *

Garrett emerged from his fevered ice fog. It took several minutes for his vision to focus, and he had hoped it would be filled with images of Abbie. The few times he had drifted in and out of this delirious haze, Abbie had been next to him, speaking in hushed, comforting tones and wiping his brow. Where was she?

He glanced about the room. It was dim except for the gas light hissing overhead. With the curtains closed, he couldn’t tell if it were morning or night. His father, brother, and nephew stood at the foot of the bed. Next to them was a stranger whom he’d remembered from his dreams.

“Welcome back, Garrett,” the stranger said. “I am Dr. Bastian Faraday. You were shot in the shoulder and sustained damage to your subclavian artery. Dr. Phillips and I repaired it. Then you developed a fever. It has been five days since the incident.”

Well, that brought him up-to-date. “Thank…you.” His father had spoken highly of the young doctor in the past. He met his father’s relieved gaze. “Where…Abbie?”