Perhaps it was best if she didn’t try to answer that question.
…
Joseph studied Abigail’s profile as their carriage drew closer to Addsby End. Earlier, when he’d awoken and realized his wife was sprawled all over him, his morning erection had grown to an agonizing size. Her soft breasts beneath her thin nightgown were tucked into his side, her pointed nipples prickling his skin.
Curly hairs that had escaped the braid she’d fastened lay against her silky skin, moving up and down as she took in and let out air. Her plump lips were slightly parted, glistening in the morning light. He had called on all of his control to keep from bending his head and kissing those berry-colored temptations.
Although the conversation held steady as they rode toward home, neither of them brought up her request last night, nor the position she’d found herself in this morning. He laughed to himself. For a woman who all of a sudden had developed maidenly concerns, she’d certainly seemed quite comfortable draped all over him.
They rounded the bend in the road, and the village appeared, once again filling him with a sense of familiar comfort, and gladness that his time in London was over. If he had his way, he would never leave Addysby End. Another concern with having Abigail as a wife. Raised with the attractions, shopping, and entertainments of London, would she be satisfied with life here?
“Oh, this is lovely, Joseph,” Abigail whispered, almost reverently, gazing out the small window. “So many times I promised myself I would ride to your village since it is only a half day from Manchester Manor, but I never seemed to take the time. I can’t believe how much I missed.” She turned to him. “It is beautiful.”
Warmth spread through him at her admiration. The snug town was built into the side of a hill, stretching out to the valley. A low stone wall surrounded the village part of the area, with the emerald green hillside dotted with sheep, goats and cows. A large space was enclosed by a wooden fence where about twenty horses grazed.
“Do you think you will be happy here? Away from the excitement and bustle of London?”
Abigail turned toward him, a sad smile on her face. “After three Seasons, London had already become tiresome. In fact, I had suggested to Redgrave that once we were married we cut the Season short and return to his country manor.”
“And?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t want to leave Town. Said he had too many obligations there. I guess I know now what those obligations were.”
Joseph reached across the space and took her hand in his. “Please try to put that all behind you. The man is a worthless cur.”
“Oh, look. Someone’s pig got loose!” Abigail giggled as they watched two young boys attempting to capture the animal, which was having none of it.
“That’s John and Matthew Dinger,” Joseph said. “The Dinger family has five children, most of them more than ready to start school.”
“Oh, dear.” Abigail’s hand flew to cover her mouth.
Running down the road, apparently attempting to help her big brothers, little Agnes Dinger, no more than perhaps three years, joined the chase. As they watched, the pig stopped and snorted. He turned and started back toward the little girl, who came to a halt, wide-eyed, her feet seeming to be frozen to the ground.
Joseph tapped on the ceiling of the carriage to notify the driver to a stop. He flung open the door, both he and Abigail jumping out. “Get back inside,” he shouted at her.
Ignoring his command, she sped to the left of the road, while Joseph took the right side. The pig continued to give chase, and finally the little girl spun on her little legs and ran toward her house. But the pig was faster.
Joseph began shouting and waving at the pig, trying to chase him in another direction, but he continued on his path toward Agnes. He picked up a few stones and tossed them, but the animal ignored them, focused as he was on his prize.
Agnes spotted Abigail and turned, her chubby legs trying very hard to run to her. Joseph continued to call out to the pig, casting a few more pebbles. The brothers were getting closer to catching the animal, but the beast was too close to Agnes for Joseph’s liking.
Abigail sped up, reached the little girl, and scooped her into her arms. Joseph’s heart almost stopped when the pig crashed into Abigail’s legs, sending both her and Agnes sprawling on the ground. Then in the way of animals, the pig stopped, grunted a few times and wandered away.
“Abigail!” Joseph was nearly out of breath when he reached her side. Agnes was crying, her little face scrunched up.
Joseph pulled Agnes from Abigail’s arms, then after giving her a quick once over, handed her off to her brother. He dropped to his knees and turned Abigail over. “Are you all right?”
Her face revealed numerous marks where gravel from the pathway had scraped her skin. “I’m fine. How is the little girl?”
“You are not fine. Your face is all scratched up. I told you to return to the carriage.”
She groaned as she started to stand.
“Agnes is fine. Well, she’s a little frightened, but her brothers took her home.”
“And the pig?”
Joseph helped her up, clutching her to his side as her steps faltered. “The pig decided to return home as well.”
Abigail stumbled again, and Joseph lifted her into his arms and headed to the carriage.
“For heaven’s sake, put me down. I can walk.”
“You do not follow instructions well. I told you to go back into the carriage.”
“And if I had, the little girl might have been hurt.”
“Nonsense. Between me and her brothers we would have rescued her.”
Abigail crossed her arms over her chest and snorted. “Hardly. I was the closest to her.”
Joseph climbed into the carriage, still holding Abigail to his chest. He signaled to the drive to start up, and they continued on their way. He shifted Abigail and removed a handkerchief from his pocket. Gently, he started to clear away the stones from her cheeks.
Now that his heart had return to its normal rhythm, he wanted to throttle her. Beyond her scraped face, the way she winced when he shifted her told him she apparently suffered some type of injury. “I will send for the physician when we arrive home.”
Abigail sighed. “I don’t need a physician, I’m just a bit scratched up.”
He glared at her and continued his ministrations until the carriage pulled up in front of his home. As soon as the footman had the door opened, he climbed out still clutching Abigail and headed toward the door that was immediately opened by his housekeeper, Mrs. O’Neill.
She grasped her throat, her eyes wide. “My goodness. Who have we here, Mr. Fox?”
“Who we have here, Mrs. O’Neill, is my wife.”
“Your wife? I thought you were going to London to find donors for your school.”
“Er, I got a bit sidetracked. It is a long story. But right now my wife has been injured in a fall, and I would like you to send for a physician.”
“I don’t need a physician.” Abigail shifted in Joseph’s arms and turned to the woman. “I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. O’Neill. I am Lady Abigail Fox, and am I to assume you are the housekeeper?”
Mrs. O’Neill bobbed a curtsey, her demeanor quickly changing to one of awe. “Yes, my lady. I see your lovely face is all scraped up. Please let me send for a physician.”
“She also seems to have hurt her . . . well, other places.” He mumbled this last bit, his cheeks heating.
…
Abigail fumed at the position Joseph had put her into. Here she was, the lady of the house, meeting the housekeeper for the first time, being carried into her new home like an invalid. She turned to ask once again to be put down and winced at the pain in her hip. When she’d been knocked to the ground by the pig, she’d twisted her body to keep from landing on the little girl. In doing so, she’d went down hard on her hip, then her head had slammed into the ground, whacking her cheek.
She’d only gotten a quick look at the outs
ide of Joseph’s house. Well, actually, her house as well. A stone structure, with a slated roof, it was much larger than she’d expected. Given the amount of windows, there must be more than twenty bed chambers.
Joseph hurried up the stairs, striding down the hall to a room at the very end of the corridor. Mrs. O’Neill quickly opened the door and they entered.
The room was very masculine, with no frills or feminine touches. A large poster bed in the middle of the room was made up in a dark green counterpane. Matching drapes hung on the generous windows. Everything was neat and tidy. Abigail breathed deeply, and the familiar scent of sandalwood, leather, and Joseph drifted to her nostrils.
Joseph laid her gently on the bed. “Mrs. O’Neill, would you be so good as to assist Lady Abigail out of her clothes and into a nightgown? I will see about having the physician come and take a look at her.”
Abigail was mortified. What a horrible beginning to her introduction to Joseph’s home and staff.
“I will be happy to help you, my lady.” Mrs. O’Neill shooed Joseph toward the door. “Hurry and see about the doctor for your lady, and I’ll have her all cleaned up and in bed before you return.”
“I really don’t need to be in bed. Aside from a few scratches I feel fine.” Abigail winced again as she attempted to stand.
“Is that right?” Joseph glared at her. “You may have broken something, and you will stay in bed until you have been examined.” He strode from the room, then turned as he gripped the latch. “Mrs. O’Neill, you have my permission to tie my wife to the bed in order to keep her there.”
“Oh!” Abigail gritted her teeth. Her upbringing refused to allow her to show any more anger than that in front of the housekeeper. But when she got Mr. Joseph Fox alone, she would certainly give him a piece of her mind.
Tie me to the bed, indeed!
Chapter Five
The next morning after sleeping away the previous afternoon and evening, restlessness urged Abigail to insist on getting out of bed. The scratches on her face were healing, thanks to the salve Mrs. O’Neill had given her. The physician had pronounced her fit, with no broken bones. He’d given her laudanum to ease the pain in her hip. Despite the soreness in her body, she wanted to explore her new home.
She vaguely remembered Joseph coming into the room sometime last evening. He’d touched her gently on her cheek, bent to kiss her on the forehead, but then he had taken his leave. She wasn’t sure where he’d slept. Or even if the room she was now in was to be hers permanently.
A bit bereft at the thought of them sharing separate bedrooms, she chided herself for her self-pity. It had been her idea to postpone the marriage bed for a while. Of course, now that she was sorry she’d done that, her pride kept her from approaching Joseph on the matter.
After receiving direction from the maid who’d attended her, Abigail made her way down the stairs to the breakfast room. Once more she was impressed with the house. The breakfast room’s walls were papered in yellow and white striped silk. The floor to ceiling windows let in sufficient light, despite the gloomy day.
Joseph sat at the table, and immediately came to his feet when she entered. “How are you feeling?”
“A bit sore, truth be told, but I didn’t want to lay about in bed any longer.”
He touched her cheek lightly where the scratches had already begun to heal. “I would prefer if you stayed abed at least one more day.”
“Nonsense. I need to work these muscles to keep from becoming stiff.”
She took the seat alongside him. Breakfast was apparently informally served, with platters of eggs, bacon, and biscuits in the center of the table. There was also a plate of kippers in a cream sauce and a large bowl of fruit.
“Tea?” Joseph asked
“Please.” She moved her cup forward so he could pour her tea. “Don’t you drink tea?” Abigail asked noting the darker liquid in his cup.
“No. I prefer coffee in the morning.”
Abigail made a face. The few times she’d tried the beverage it had struck her as bitter. She added some eggs and toast to her plate, along with an orange. “You’ve an orangery?”
Joseph looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading. “Yes. It came with the property when I purchased it.”
“I must admit I’m a bit surprised at the size of your home.”
“Our home.” He smiled at her blush.
“Our home.” She began to peel the orange. “I thought you were in London to raise money for your school?”
Joseph pushed away his empty plate and drew his coffee cup closer. “I am sure you know my grandfather was the Earl of Hornsforth. His wife—my grandmother—had various properties in her own name. She left me two of them, along with a trust from which I receive the yearly income until I reach the age of five and thirty—or marry—and then it becomes mine in its entirety.”
“How strange.”
“Not really. She never approved of me going into the church, even though my father is also a rector. I think she was reconciled to his calling because he was her second son, whereas I am my father’s only child. I think she hoped I would eventually change my mind and use the money to help secure a seat in the House of Commons.”
“And she assumed having a wife would steer you toward a political career?”
“So it would seem, but I love my work with my parishioners. I don’t want to go anywhere near Parliament.”
Apparently Joseph had not only received her dowry to use for his school, but his own funds would be released upon his marriage. The reason for him agreeing to wed became more obvious every day. Even though her own motives were less than noble, a slight feeling of sadness filled her. Then she gave herself a shake. This was precisely what she’d wanted. A marriage with nothing more than an understanding between them. No foolishness like love to cause strife.
“After seeing some of the machinations that Drake has to go through in the House of Lords, I cannot say that I blame you.” She took a sip of her tea. “Where are your other properties?”
“I sold one of them, which allowed me to purchase this house. The other is in Cornwall. There is a very competent steward who runs the place.”
“Do you ever visit?”
“About twice a year.”
“How very interesting. I should enjoy going with you the next time you make the trip.”
“Of course. I am sure the tenants would love to meet you.”
Abigail returned to her breakfast. She’d suffered one surprise after another since their wedding. Joseph was not the sober, sanctimonious man she’d assumed. It still rankled at how quickly he’d laced her up at the inn. He also maintained a very comfortable life, with numerous staff. Somehow, she’d expected her life to be, while not exactly poor, at least not quite as opulent as it appeared. But on the other hand, Drake would have made certain she would be amply provided for.
“I think perhaps after breakfast we might take a stroll around the garden,” Joseph said.
“I would like that.” She glanced out the window. “We had best make it right after breakfast. It appears we may be in for some rain.”
“After our stroll, I will have Mrs. O’Neill introduce you to the staff.”
Abigail was about to question him on the sleeping arrangements when the butler she’d met yesterday stepped into the breakfast room. “Sir, you have a caller.”
“So early, Manning? Who is here?”
“Lady Durham has arrived.”
Joseph shoved back his chair, a smile on his lips. “Send her in.” He turned to Abigail. “Lady Durham is widowed and a member of the parish. She has helped a great deal with church projects and is especially excited about the new school.”
“Mr. Fox!” Lady Durham glided into the room, holding out her hands. Their visitor was another addition to Abigail’s list of surprises. Expecting to see an older, somewhat stocky woman who was devoting her life to the church, Abigail was stunned to see an absolutely beautiful young lady. Not much older than Abiga
il, Lady Durham was dressed in the height of fashion in a lavender muslin gown, with purple embroidery around the bodice. Her red hair was smoothed back from her face. Her black and lavender bonnet framed a sweet countenance. Except for her eyes, which implied a cold and calculating mind. Despite this woman’s soft and friendly demeanor, Abigail shivered.
“Lady Durham, how nice to see you.” Joseph took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.
She patted his cheek warmly.
She’s a bit forward.
“I just couldn’t wait to hear how successful you were in London. You were gone much longer than I expected.” Lady Durham took the seat Joseph held out for her, glancing in Abigail’s direction, her eyebrows raised apparently in surprise. “And may I be made known to your guest?”
Joseph took his seat and placed his hand over Abigail’s. “Lady Durham, I would like you to meet my wife, Lady Abigail Fox.”
The woman took in a deep breath, and her face turned as pale as new snow. Her eyes darted back and forth between Abigail and Joseph, her nostrils flaring with. . .what? Anger? Surprise?
“Your wife?” her voice trilled, actually hurting Abigail’s ears. Swallowing rapidly, she added, “Surely you are joking, Mr. Fox.” She lowered her voice to almost a whisper.
A confused smile on his face, he shook his head. “Not at all. I assure you, Lady Durham, this is no joke. Lady Abigail and I were wed in London three days ago. I’m hoping once you become better acquainted, you will be good friends.”
“How do you do, Lady Durham? I am pleased to meet you.” Abigail attempted to put the woman at ease, since she’d notably been taken aback by Joseph’s announcement.
Lady Durham merely nodded briefly. The silence that followed became almost painful as the woman fussed with the sleeves of her dress. Joseph cleared his throat a few times, apparently lost as to what exactly had just happened at his breakfast table.
Abigail wondered if perhaps Lady Durham had had intentions toward her husband. But from the look on Joseph’s face, the thought had never crossed his mind.
The Lady's Disgrace Page 5