“I don’t know what to say. I feel absolutely horrible for Abigail. And I’m sure this has been the subject of much gossip.”
“Indeed. To put it bluntly, my sister’s prospects have dimmed. The only men who are now paying her mind are fortune hunters who believe they would do us a favor by taking her off our hands.” He smiled wryly. “By putting their hands on her money.”
“Perhaps you should send Abigail off to the country.”
“That would solve the immediate problem, but I need a long-term solution. I’m sure by next Season the gossip will have died down, but she would be one more year closer to being on the shelf.”
Joseph’s gut tightened at the thought of anyone considering Abigail on the shelf regardless of how many Seasons she saw. “Such a barbarous system we subject our young ladies to. Yet gentlemen are permitted years to avoid matrimony, with no consequences.”
“Good heavens, you sound like my sisters.”
“Your sisters are very intelligent young women, Manchester. But you’re right, of course. Abigail is in a bit of a dilemma. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. Abigail has always been one of my favorite people.”
Manchester somberly studied his desktop for a few minutes, the only sounds in the room the clicking of china. Suddenly the man straightened in his chair and stared straight at Joseph with such a piercing look that he shifted in his seat.
“Mother,” Drake never glanced in her direction, “would you and Penelope mind leaving us for a few minutes?”
The dowager hesitated slightly, her eyes darting between the two men. “Of course, we wouldn’t mind.” She turned to Penelope, the women regarding each other with raised eyebrows.
They rose in unison, and adjusting their skirts, took their leave, their arms joined and heads together in a whispered discussion as they strolled to the door.
Once the door latch sounded, Drake left his seat, and clasping his hands behind his back, paced in a circle around his desk, causing Joseph to twist and turn to continue watching him.
“Manchester, you’re making me dizzy.”
Drake looked up in surprise. Almost as if he’d forgotten Joseph’s presence.
“Sorry. Woolgathering. Trying to settle things in my mind.”
“I assume there is a reason you asked your mother and wife to leave the room? Did you wish to say something about Redgrave that is unfit for ladies’ ears?” Trying to lighten the suddenly grim atmosphere, Joseph’s smile faded as Drake continued to study him as if he were a bug under a microscope.
“Tell me a little bit about your church.”
Of all the things he might have expected to hear from his old friend, this question was certainly not one of them. His church? What the devil was he about?
After studying Drake for a few moments, realizing the man was serious in his question, Joseph answered. “St. Gertrude is a thriving parish. It’s in Addysby End, which you know is the village south of Manchester Manor. Most of my parishioners are farmers and shopkeepers.” He stopped and narrowed his eyes. “What are you about? Why in the middle of discussing your family’s problems do you want to know about my church?”
Drake waved his hand. “Just bear with me for a little bit.” He returned to his seat, clasping his hand together, tapping his lips with his index fingers. “What about this school? How close are you to raising the necessary funds?”
“My benefactors are few. But I’ve just started to visit with potential patrons. If necessary, I could dip into my investments, although the bulk of the money is tied up until I marry, or reach my thirty-fifth year.”
Had these questions come from anyone but the Duke of Manchester, Joseph would have been sure the man had taken leave of his senses. But Drake was much too sharp to make inane conversation so shortly after revealing his family’s predicament.
“And I believe you mentioned needing a steady source of income to sustain the school?”
“Yes. Although I am sure my parishioners will contribute items that can be bartered for school supplies. They have too much pride to take something for free. In any event, I am confident it will all work out.”
When Drake continued to stare at the papers stacked on his desk, Joseph ventured, “May I ask why the sudden interest in my church and school?”
“In due time.” Drake leaned back. “Am I correct in assuming you have not married since I saw you last?”
Joseph frowned and shook his head.
“Betrothed?”
“Noooo.” He dragged the word out, more confused than ever. Questions about his church, the school, now his marital status? If he’d been baffled before, now he was totally flummoxed. Unless Manchester was headed in a direction Joseph would never have guessed. Or hoped for. His heartbeat sped up.
“As you are aware, my family has always held you−and your parents−in high regard.”
Although his church was in the village about thirty miles south of Manchester Manor, Joseph’s father, the elder Mr. Fox, was rector to the Manchester family’s church in Donridge Heath.
Joseph hesitated. “I am pleased to hear that. And both I and my parents have always hoped you and your family regard us as friends. Despite our differences in rank.”
“Good, good. Glad to hear that.”
“What is going on here, Manchester?”
He looked up abruptly, obviously surprised to have his thoughts interrupted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you asked your wife and mother to leave the room. You’ve peppered me with questions about my church and the school I hope to build. Then you talk about the relationship between our families. I am wondering what it is that you’re trying very hard not to say.”
“Yes, you’re right. I should just get on with it.”
Drake fidgeted with his pen, taking it out of the holder, slipping it back in again. The man was obviously nervous. Definitely not usual circumstances for Drake. Dare he hope his childhood friend was about to suggest Joseph’s well-hidden desire?
“What do you think of Abigail?”
“I think she’s a wonderful woman, and I am distressed at her predicament.”
“Good. Because there’s something I want to ask you.”
Finally. His stomach in knots, he motioned with his hand for Manchester to proceed. Trying very hard not to anticipate Drake’s words, he held his breath.
Manchester leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “Please give serious consideration to my suggestion.”
“I’m listening.”
“I would like you to marry my sister.”
Joseph sat back, all the breath leaving his body. Exhilaration mixed with shock. Despite what he’d hoped Drake would say, he still would not have been any more surprised if the man had jumped up, taken off all his clothes, and dashed around the room spouting poetry.
Marry Abigail? The one woman he never thought would be his?
Chapter Two
A tap on Abigial’s bedchamber door drew her from her musings. “Yes?”
The door opened, and Drake stuck his head in. “May I visit with you?”
Abigail shifted from the mattress and stood, adjusting her skirts. “Certainly.”
“How are you feeling today?”
Abigail smiled. “You mean am I still soaking my pillow with tears?”
He grimaced at her astute perception.
“No more crying, Drake. I’m finished with feeling sorry for myself.”
“That is good news. I worried that you would end up locked in your room like Marion.”
“I’m not Marion. If I spend much more time cosseted here, I would be a candidate for Bedlam.”
He cleared his throat, and waved her toward the daybed in the corner of the room. “Can we sit for a moment?”
Once they settled, he turned to her and took her hands. “I have an idea.”
“My, you look so serious. Am I to be relegated to a nunnery?” Her heart skipped a beat when he didn’t laugh. Surely he wouldn’t suggest an
abbey? Good heavens, had things really gotten that bad beyond this room?
“No. No nunnery. I—Well, mother and I—that is, and Penelope too—”
“Are you going to go down the line and mention everyone? I can save you time. This sounds like something the family has decided on.”
“It is good to see your humor and spirit have returned.”
She smiled wryly. “Go on, dear brother. You are stalling.”
“Yes. Well. I have an idea to get you out of London, and settled where you will be, if not happy, at least content.”
“The nunnery comes to mind once again.”
“I have found you a husband,” he blurted.
She stared at him aghast. “I hadn’t realized I’d misplaced one.”
“Be serious, Abigail.”
“I am serious. Extremely so. I know I seem to be missing a betrothed, but surely you haven’t been scouring the streets of London looking for a replacement?”
“You remember Addysby End’s rector, Joseph Fox?”
“Of course I remember him. We all grew up together. His father is our rector. I’ve seen him many times over the years. What has he got to do with—” She stopped abruptly. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. You can’t mean your found husband is Joseph?”
“That is precisely what I mean.” He drew himself up. “What is wrong with the man?”
Too stunned to form words, Abigail just stared at him. Joseph Fox had been her nemesis for years. As a child, she had had such a fancy for him that she had followed him and Drake around until they had become so annoyed with her that they’d tied her to a tree and sent Sybil to tell her mother where she was.
Despite the differences in their rank, Joseph had continued to hang about Manchester Manor every time both he and Drake were home from University. Joseph had grown into a handsome, virile man—with a bit of a devilish twinkle in his eyes, despite his higher calling.
The few times Abigail had tried to gain his attention as she’d approached her come-out, he had treated her as a little sister. Although the rejection had stung, once caught up in the whirl of her first Season, with all the balls, gowns, parties, and musicales, she’d forgotten all about her infatuation. Except for the few times they met in the village when he was there to visit his parents. He’d treated her with respect, but his eyes always seemed shuttered, as if attempting to hide something from her.
Now the man had agreed to marry her. Or had he?
She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “Have you spoken to Joseph about this?”
“Yes. He’s downstairs right now.”
“Here? Downstairs? Right now?”
“Very good, Abigail. It seems your ability to repeat words and phrases is top notch.”
She viewed him with disgust. “Say you didn’t summon him all the way from Addysby End to present this ridiculous proposition to him?”
“No, he is visiting London and was nice enough to call.”
“He was ‘nice enough to call?’ You mean he just happened to stop in, you invited him for tea, and served up your sister?”
“That is enough, Abigail.”
She slumped, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“If you will calm yourself, I will explain how it all came about.”
She shrugged.
“Redgrave has put you in an impossible situation.”
She gave an unladylike snort.
“Through absolutely no fault of your own, your reputation has been tarnished. The way I see it, you can weather the storm, and eventually take your proper place in society. Which, given the ton’s love of gossip, could take a while. Or you can marry someone you like and respect, and have a comfortable life. Love has been known to grow from more tenuous circumstances.”
“I have no interest, whatsoever, in love. I’ve had my fill of it.”
“Then this is not so terrible a suggestion?”
“No. I do want my own home and children. But why Joseph?”
“Why not? Do you have something against the man?”
Not wishing to dredge up old feelings of rejection, she shook her head.
“Then why not consider marrying him?”
Marriage to Joseph? Indeed, she did like and respect him. But the intimacy of marriage could very easily turn those feelings into something she no longer wanted. The hurt that love had the ability to inflict upon someone was not worth the few heady moments of elation. If she went along with this crazy scheme of her brother’s, she would have to be extremely careful with her heart.
“What sort of inducement did you dangle in front of Joseph to take me off your hands?” Surely the man who thought of her as no more than a pesky little sister would not freely enter into a lifelong commitment without some type of boon.
“It was not an inducement as much as a way to solve both of your problems.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Joseph wants to open a school for the village children. He is in London to raise money for that very reason. Your dowry would more than cover the cost of the school, as well as provide an income to support the endeavor.”
“Joseph is opening a school?” Suddenly the idea became more palatable. For some time now, the constant round of parties and balls had become tiresome. Her life seemed to lack purpose. She wanted to do something else with her energy, besides shopping for new gowns and fripperies. To be involved in something so worthwhile. . . “I will consider it. But I want to speak with Joseph first.”
“Of course. He is waiting for you in the library. I told him either you or I would join him, depending on how amenable you were to this plan.”
“Fine. Please tell him I will attend him shortly.”
Drake nodded and left the room.
Abigail took a deep breath, and placed her hands on her chest where her breath caught. For the first time in two weeks she felt alive again. She could marry Joseph and have her own home. Nothing as grand as Manchester Manor, but somehow that no longer seemed important.
Her life would be one of fulfillment, of helping children have a better life. As a rector’s wife, she would be in a position to use her boundless energy to good purpose. And one day there would be children of her own. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as her stomach did a little flip. The begetting of those children was certainly something she would discuss with Joseph.
Yes. As long as she laid down rules to keep Joseph from believing there would ever be more to this arrangement than just two people working together, Drake’s intriguing suggestion just might solve her dilemma.
She quickly washed her face and hands and smoothed back her hair, tying it at the nape with a ribbon. Time to face her future.
…
Joseph was sure the carpet beneath his feet in Manchester’s study would be threadbare before Abigail arrived. He hadn’t stopped pacing since Drake had informed him Abigail was amenable to the plan and would speak with him shortly.
It appeared in just moments, he would propose marriage to a woman who was far above him in rank and expect her to accept him. He’d firmly put her out of his mind when, as a blushing miss, she seemed to have developed a tendre for him. There hadn’t been any reason to encourage her, since, as a duke’s daughter, her family would see that she married well. And that did not mean to a rector of a modest church in an obscure village.
A light tap on the door caught his attention. Abigail entered, hesitant at first. He gave her a warm smile, trying to put her at ease, even though his own heart was pounding in his chest.
She was just as lovely as he remembered. Shining, light brown hair with golden strands throughout. Her large whiskey-colored eyes looked on the world with a combination of curiosity and merriment, as if she held a great secret she was bursting to reveal. The little girl had turned into a curvy, sensuous woman. His mouth dried as she glided across the room, extending her arm.
“Joseph, it is good to see you.”
Taking her hand, he touched his lips to the silky skin, then dropped it as if he�
�d been burned. “And you, as well, Lady Abigail.”
She cocked her head to one side. “I guess given what we are here to discuss, we should discard the formality. Don’t you agree?”
He nodded, and waved to the settee as if he were the host. “Won’t you sit?”
Abigail cast him a sidelong glance, then smiled and settled on the sofa, smoothing her skirts. “My brother tells me you intend to start a school for the village children.”
“Yes. It has been my desire for some time now. I think it is important for even the lower classes to be able to read, write, and do sums. It will open up new opportunities for them as adults.”
“And my dowry will see that you are able to do that.”
Once again, she’d put him off balance. Barely recovered from the jolt he’d received when he held her hand, she’d now plunged him into a swirl of emotions. Was she angry that her dowry would go to his cause? Did she see him only as another fortune hunter, eager to grasp her money, taking her to wife for that purpose only?
“There is no point in denial, is there?” he said.
“No matter. From what Drake has told me, we both get something from this arrangement.”
Joseph took her hand in his. “I would hope this arrangement will bring some happiness to the both of us. I know of your recent disappointment, and am very sorry for it.”
“Yes. Well. If we are to move forward with this, there are a few things we need to discuss.” She pulled her hand away and began to pace in front of him.
He was surprised at her abrupt change of subject. Although he imagined it would pain her to speak of her betrothed’s deception. Drake had mentioned that Abigail had been holding out for love. No doubt she was broken hearted and didn’t wish to dwell on what she had lost.
“I must tell you first up that I will always think of you as a friend. Frankly, I do not want more than that from this. . .marriage.”
Not too happy with the direction in which she seemed to be going, he merely stared at her.
“I also would like to make it clear straight off that I have no interest in the marriage bed.”
“What?”
She drew herself up, and stopped the infernal pacing. “This is to be a marriage of convenience.”
The Lady's Disgrace Page 2