Page 62 of The Scholar’s Spy

The two of them headed up the front steps trailing after Mrs. Davenport, as Robert pointed out another house, where his childhood friend had lived.

“Robbie.” There was a hearty male voice that sounded a touch deeper than Robert’s but otherwise held similar echoes of her husband’s. It came from an older gentleman feet away from them, who had to be Robert’s father. The older man wore dark rimmed glasses, had pale coppery hair, and had a similarly handsomely-made face to Robert’s—all strong jaw and cheekbones. Rather than waiting for them to go into a parlor, Mr. Davenport was stationed at the end of the corridor.

Breaking away from her, Robert walked toward his father. Neither spoke and for a moment, Abigail felt a wave of tension wriggle through her, but when Mr. Davenport grasped his son’s shoulders and embraced him, relief flooded through her. Robert’s fears were unfounded, and he had been missed more than he even knew.

“This is my wife, Abigail.” There was Robert, having followed her inside. As he introduced her to his father. The one touch on the tip of her elbow and Abigail let out the tiny sigh she had been holding in.

The older man smiled most graciously. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

They were ushered into a little parlor, occupied by a teapot, a tray of cakes and a roaring fire in the grate. There was a generosity of warmth, not just due to the fireplace, but from the smiling faces in the portraits dotted through the room.

Abigail spotted the array of teapot, handsome duck egg blue teacups, and on closer inspection a fine collection of delicious looking cakes and nibbles.

“Your sisters will be joining us tomorrow for supper,” Mr. Davenport said looking at the newlyweds, “give us time to see the pair of you.”

“That must make us rather different from your own family.” Mrs. Davenport looked at Abigail, clearly wishing to include her in the conversation.

“Indeed.” She had written to her sister Judith before leaving London, informing her of impending elopement. Part of her knew she should draft another missive, and let her family know of the wedding, but it could wait until she was at least settled in Dublin. And only once Robert and she had decided where they would set up their home. “But since both my sisters are spinsters there are no such arrangements to make for their children.”

“Yet,” Mrs. Davenport said, smiling in a way that made Abigail relax a little more in her seat. “My oldest used to swear until we all believed her, that she would never wed.”

“Was that not your mantra too, son?” Mr. Davenport pressed. When Robert interlinked his fingers with Abigail’s, the two parents beamed.

“It was until I met the right woman.” Robert lifted her palm up and kissed it.

“You should have come here for the wedding.” Mrs. Davenport sighed as she looked between the newlyweds.

“I was grateful for our Gretna Green wedding,” Abigail said, catching Robert’s eye.

With a knowing tut, Mr. Davenport started to ask about where her family was based, and soon the conversation drifted on.

A good hour later, Robert and Abigail were escorted upstairs to their bedchamber. They were finally left alone.

He came to her, wrapping his hands around Abigail’s waist and drawing back against his chest. She nestled there, secure in his arms. “I am so glad we came. I hope they are not too much for you.”

Closing her eyes Abigail let out a breath. “Once I thought any family of any size might well have overwhelmed me. I would have been nervous and lost my way. Yet I find that, with you, those worries fade away.” His arms tightened around her before Abigail let out a pleased sigh.

Robert cupped her face and brought her lips up to his. The kiss was gentle, coaxing and encouraged her to give into the sensual seduction. His mouth warm and tender against her own, pausing only to rest his forehead on Abigail’s. “I am so happy we are here.”

“Your fears for your leaving—”

“Gone, both of my parents are simply happy I have returned.”

Together they walked over to the window and looked out onto the back of the house, first down into the garden below, which was filled with high reaching trees, the blooms of spring flowers and neatly cut grass. Then their gaze flittered over the wall, and out across the view of the city. It seemed to be spread before them, alight with possibilities for the future—bright, glittering and joyous.

“I always believed there was only one place and one thing, my studying that would ever grant me happiness, but now I see how rich and full the world is—there are so many things we might do. Together,” Abigail said, as she leaned on Robert’s shoulder.

His hand snaked around her waist, his breath tickling her skin. “I can think of something we can do together…”

Abigail smiled as she let her husband lift her up in his arms and carry her to the nearby bed, laughing as she did so.

Epilogue

Several years later…

Robert was out stretching his legs as he walked with ease through the bustling town of Lyme.

On their return to her hometown, Abigail and he had settled on the idea that he was gifted an inheritance provided he took on the surname of ‘Davenport.’ He was now addressed as Mr. Davenport. His captaincy might one day come up, but by and large, he was primarily addressed as Abigail Fossey’s husband, and to that Robert was more than happy to answer to. He, they all said, was bizarre. Robert was realizing that one, he didn’t care for their opinion, and two, being odd was not that bad, not when you were as happy as he was.