“And there you have it.” He took his seat once more. “I don’t at this point think Abigail believes these were outright attempts to harm her. Frankly, I’m not sure if I want her to consider that. Right now she is already fearful of being enclosed as a result of her experience in the shed. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t connected that event to the shooting.”
“But you have.”
“Doesn’t it seem likely to you?”
Drake pondered for a minute, the only sound in the room that of the grandfather clock in the corner. Joseph glanced out the window, the scene no longer soothing him. Tension radiated throughout his body, the frustration at his helplessness almost crippling.
“The first question, of course, is if Abigail has gained any enemies in her short time at Addysby End?”
“No. Everyone loves her.”
“If what you expect is true, not everyone loves her.”
Drake’s questioning brought to the forefront what Joseph had been avoiding for weeks. If, indeed, these “accidents” were actually “on purposes,” who would be behind such a horrible scheme? As a rector, it was his duty to see the best in people, to forgive mistakes and lapses in behavior and human failures. Now he would be forced to view everyone in a different light. To suspect where perhaps there was no cause.
What a conundrum.
“We’ve arrived.” Penelope and Abigail entered the room in a swirl of colorful silk and muslin.
Joseph was again taken with the picture Abigail presented. Her deep brown eyes settled on him the moment she gained the room. Her hair was piled on her head in a becoming fashion that allowed for it to appear as if she had just arisen from her bed. He felt his groin tighten with the sultry smile she offered.
Her gown, a deep rose with a white panel down the center, showed off her figure charmingly. The cut of her bodice was modest, but with enough daring that her breasts drew his eyes immediately. All that creamy skin plumped above her bodice had his mouth watering. Perhaps they could forego dinner and retire to their bedchamber.
“We will continue our conversation in the morning.” Drake spoke sotto voce before he ambled across the room to his wife, leaving Joseph to adjust his breeches before he joined Abigail.
Joseph thought the meal would never end. Every time Abigail threw her head back and laughed, exposing all that silky skin, he had broken into a sweat. He had no idea what they had eaten, or if it was as appetizing as Abigail claimed. His mouth had been dry as a desert since she’d swept into the drawing room with Penelope.
He only wanted dessert, and that he would have in the privacy of their bedchamber. However, Penelope suggested since it was only the four of them, they might dispense with separating after dinner, with the men staying for brandy, and the ladies retreating for tea. So they all trooped into the drawing room where the tea cart stood.
Things also dragged on when Nanny brought the heir from the nursery to spend time with his parents before bed. The infant was the light of his parents’ life, but to Joseph he was merely a funny looking creature. And an obstacle to his dessert. Although, had the child been his and Abigail’s, surely he would be the most interesting of babes and easy to gaze upon for hours.
Finally, Nanny fetched the child, and Penelope and Drake rose, hand-in-hand, and announced their intentions to retire for the evening. Based on the looks between the two, they intended to enjoy a bit of dessert themselves.
“Shall we, my dear?” Joseph extended his arm to Abigail. They strolled up the stairs and down the corridor to their bedchamber. Once inside, Joseph dismissed Sanders, intending to be Abigail’s lady’s maid for the night.
“I must say it feels rather odd to have a man in my bedchamber.” Abigail stopped in the center of the space, then pivoted, taking in her childhood room.
Joseph moved behind her and pressed a kiss to the soft skin at her nape; skin that had been driving him crazy all evening. “Not just a man, sweetheart, your husband.”
She turned and rested her palms on his shoulders. “What were you and Drake so somberly discussing when Penelope and I came down this evening?”
The very last thing he wanted was to distract Abigail from his intentions. Or know the depth of his concern. So he used the best method of distraction he knew. Slowly he lowered his head and murmured, “Nothing as important as this.”
His lips covered hers with a possession that stunned him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her snug against his body as he felt her knees sag. She was warm, soft, and smelled of flowers. He nudged her lips open and swept his tongue into her mouth, tasting the sweetness from the tea she’d had. She tangled with him, the duel of tongues causing his blood to race.
“My God, you’re so beautiful. I want to strip you bare and kiss every inch of your skin.” He pulled back and spun her, quickly unfastening the buttons of her gown.
“Be careful, this is new,” Abigail panted.
“I’ll buy you three more.”
The gown dropped to the floor, leaving her in her chemise and stays. He made quick work of the stays. Once they fell free of her body, he pushed the chemise down until she remained in all her glorious nakedness, her garments pooled at her feet.
Joseph cupped her breasts and gazed through half-lidded eyes over her shoulder at his hands, dark against her milky skin. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair had almost fallen completely down. A quick flick of his fingers and the remaining hairpins flew from her head, the pinging noise mixing with their heavy breaths.
Her hair felt like silk as he ran his fingers through it, inhaling its scent. Abigail moved her hand behind her and fingered his length, pressing her shoulders to his chest giving rise to her breasts as she slid her hand up and down. If he didn’t get her into bed soon he’d end up taking her right here on the floor like some strumpet. “Sweetheart, let’s get into bed.”
She turned and brushed the hair off his forehead, then ran her fingers down his cheek, to his jaw, then his chest. Her eyes darkened with passion, she dropped to her knees and unfastened the placket on his breeches. He stared at the top of her head, his breath completely stolen from his lungs. “What…?” His voice was ragged, his heart pumping so hard he thought it would jump from his chest. Surely she wouldn’t…
Joseph fisted her hair and groaned as she kissed him in a place he had never imagined his wife’s lips. He had to be causing her pain as he continued to tug on her hair, every muscle in his body tightened, every drop of his blood racing toward only one spot. She trailed her tongue over his member, then drew back and looked up at him, grinning as if she’d found a prize. He almost disgraced himself.
“Sweetheart, please.” He bent and lifted her, striding to the bed as he reclaimed her lips, crushing her to him. He laid her down, probably not too gently, given how she bounced. She removed her slippers, but he stopped her before she rolled down her stockings. “Leave them on.”
Buttons flew in all directions as he tore his shirt off, struggled out of his breeches, boots, and stockings. Almost crying with need, he crawled up her body, nudging her legs apart as he went.
Her visible passion, so clearly displayed by her flushed cheeks, hitched breath, and darkened eyes drove him further to the edge. She was everything he ever needed. He would move mountains to keep her by his side. Despite his feelings of inadequacy in keeping her safe, he had grown to love this woman with his entire being. Whatever it took, he would one day hear her profess her love.
His fingers assuring himself she was ready for him, he plunged into her depths, shuddering as her liquid heat surrounded him. Knowing he wasn’t going to last very long, he shifted his body to rub his thumb over her swollen nub. Blood pounded in his ears, hearing no sounds, seeing only her.
Nothing was as beautiful as Abigail in the throes of passion. Her lips were plump with his kisses, her head thrashed back and forth, cries of release coming from deep inside her. Within minutes he felt her explosion, her muscles contracting around him, milking him, taking everything he had t
o give. There was nothing left between them to hide.
Giving one final thrust, he collapsed on top of her, their limbs a tangled mess. His lungs burned, dew covered both of their bodies, and his life would never again be the same.
Chapter Thirteen
Drake yanked on Abaccus’s reins, leaning forward to keep his seat as the horse’s front legs rose in the air. Within seconds Joseph joined him as he reined in the same shiny black stallion from the other morning. Both men sat in silence as they caught their breath at the end of their early morning gallop along Rotten Row.
With the sun only partially over the horizon, a hazy mist blanketed the area, dew drops clinging to leaves and grass. Air not yet spoiled by the summer heat, which would soon release the stench from the river and other pungent spots, encouraged them to inhale deeply.
Soon the Season would end, and driven by the heat and stink of the city, most of the ton would retire to their summer estates until Parliament was in session once again. During that time, house parties, holiday balls, and autumn fox hunting would keep the Quality entertained.
Joseph pushed the thought to the back of his mind that had Abigail not married him, she would soon be ensconced in the safety of Manchester Manor, instead of dodging bullets and stamping out fires in Addysby End.
Still in a deep sleep after another rousing session with his wife the night before, Joseph had received a summons from his brother-in-law’s footman to meet him at the stables for an early morning ride. With Abigail slumbering peacefully, he’d arisen, quickly dressed, and joined Drake. No words, besides a nod and a brief “good morning,” had yet to pass between the men.
In the past three days while Joseph and Abigail had visited Manchester House, no opportunity had arisen for them to have a private conversation. Penelope kept them busy with picnics, walks in the park, a musicale at the home of Lord and Lady Beckham, and of course, fawning over the new heir. As peaceful as this interlude had been, he desperately needed to gain Drake’s perspective on his dilemma.
“I don’t suppose you would consider leaving Abigail here with me?” Drake said, staring out at the expanse of trees and grass in Hyde Park.
“I would place her in a high-walled convent if I thought she would go along with it.”
Drake chuckled and shook his head. “I tried threatening that when she turned down suitor after suitor. I doubt you would have any more luck than I did.”
“However, I’m torn between letting her know how very concerned I am for her welfare, or, allowing her to believe these occasions were truly accidents.” Joseph shifted in his saddle and turned to Drake. “What would you do if this were Penelope?”
All the blood left Manchester’s face.
“Exactly,” Joseph said with a tight smile. “If I could think of a good reason for her to remain here with you, I would try it. But your sister tends to be a bit on the stubborn side.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“So what are your suggestions? I admit I am at a loss. I’ve been running names around in my head for days, but can’t think of anyone who would have cause to harm her.”
“Oftentimes it comes down to money. Greed.”
Joseph paused for a moment. “There is no one who would benefit from Abigail’s death.”
“No. You already own everything she had when you married.”
He stiffened as a flash of anger shot through him. “Don’t even suggest such a thing.”
“I wasn’t. I was merely ruminating. I would never think that you would hurt her. It’s obvious you care very deeply for my sister. And she for you.” His eyes twinkled as he regarded him. “Curious, that. It certainly hasn’t taken very much time.”
Joseph’s heart thumped at Drake’s casual words. Abigail cared for him? Not likely. Despite an enthusiastic bed partner, and an accommodating and caring wife, she seemed to want to stick to her word to not offer him more. She’d been hurt once before, and would not open up her heart again.
“I will hire a man to investigate these accidents,” Drake said.
“There is no need. If what I’ve told you has convinced you an investigation is in order, I can do that myself.”
Drake shook head. “Anyone you hire from Addysby End would be known and would find it difficult to question the townspeople. I can send a man from here, who will slip into village life as someone leaving behind the burden of Town for a short holiday.”
“Then you agree this warrants action?”
“I trust you too much to discount your concerns. I know you for a man who doesn’t imagine monsters where there are none.” Drake used his thighs to spur Abaccus forward. “My man will be settled in Addysby End before you return home.”
Joseph followed behind, relieved that something useful was being done.
…
The day after they arrived home, Abigail, Joseph, and Lady Durham gathered around a large table in the new school building that was piled high with books, slates, and chalk. They’d just finished unpacking supplies for the students. The building was completed, and within days they would begin visiting the families who had young children, to convince the parents to send their offspring for lessons on a regular basis.
“How was your visit to London?” Lady Durham directed her attention to Abigail.
“Quite nice. It was lovely to visit with my brother and his family. Their son is growing rapidly.”
“They tend to do that.” She smiled warmly. “I assume you are recovered from the dreadful fire?”
Abigail started and frowned. “Yes. How did you know about it?”
Lady Durham waved her hand. “Oh, I stopped by to visit with you while you were in London, and Manning mentioned it.”
Abigail and Joseph shared a quick glance. She didn’t want to call Lady Durham a liar, but Manning was not a house servant who enjoyed gossip. Perhaps one of the lower servants had blabbed and Lady Durham was trying to protect her. In any event, Abigail would have a conversation with the staff about the need to protect the privacy of their employers.
Joseph brushed the dust from the boxes off his jacket. “Yes. My wife has recovered, and I believe the visit to her family helped restore her spirits. It is very nice of you to inquire after her well-being. Now I suggest we distribute the supplies among the tables so we will be ready to receive our students.”
Lady Durham jumped as if booted from behind. “Of course.”
All three gathered up Bibles, primers, slates, and chalk and placed them on the tables.
“Do you find you miss the excitement of London, Lady Abigail?” Lady Durham smiled serenely as she placed items on the tables.
“Not particularly. I think I had my fill of that type of excitement over the past few years.”
“It is just too bad a lovely woman such as yourself is stuck in this little village.”
Abigail cast a glance at Joseph, but it didn’t seem he paid attention. “Not at all. I enjoy the town and the villagers.”
“Yes, we are a wonderful little group, are we not? A bit provincial, perhaps.”
What precisely was Lady Durham trying to say? Had Abigail given her, or any of the other townspeople, the idea that she was not happy here? Hopefully, that was not the case because she really wanted to be accepted by Joseph’s congregation, and not viewed as some high stepping Londoner who was bored with anything not associated with Town.
Lady Durham wandered in Joseph’s direction, and began a conversation with him, leaving Abigail with her thoughts.
Thoughts that soon turned to a place she should probably not visit. Heat rose to her face when she remembered dropping to her knees in front of Joseph and using her mouth in such a shocking way. She’d smiled at his jolt, and then the way he’d grasped her head, almost pulling her hair out.
It was too bad she hadn’t thought to grab that wicked book of Drake’s before they’d left Manchester House. What other scandalous things could she do to shock her husband? An image from the book flashed in her mind, recalling Joseph�
�s remarks about tying her to the bed for reasons other than keeping her there after her injury. Could that be what he’d been referring to? Oh dear. That did sound interesting. A giggle escaped, but Joseph and Lady Durham were deep in conversation and didn’t notice her.
Then, as if a cloud passed over on a sunny day, the words she’d spoken to Joseph about banning him from her bed once she learned she was with child leapt to the front of her mind. Why had she done something so foolish?
Most likely in her naivety, she’d not counted on enjoying his “attentions” so much. Well, when the time came, she would have to make it appear as if Joseph had persuaded her to change her mind. As long as she continued to hold her heart from him, life would be pleasant.
Though, did she want more than pleasant?
…
A slight knock on his office door dragged Joseph’s attention from the latest report sent by his Cornwall estate steward. As soon as the school was running smoothly, he and Abigail would make a trip there. Once again, he would have to engage the services of the young curate from his father’s church to tend to matters here. “Yes?”
Manning entered the room, holding a small card in his hand. “Sir, an individual has called and wishes to speak with you.”
Joseph noted the absence of the word “gentleman” in Manning’s announcement. It amazed him how servants seemed very aware of class distinctions. He glanced at the card:
Mr. Melvin Grundell, London, England.
A name unknown to him. “Send him in.”
Mr. Grundell was as nondescript as a person can be. He was of medium height and weight. His light brown hair covered what would soon be a bald spot at the front of his head. He wore spectacles on a rather ordinary nose. His eyes could have been anywhere between brown and hazel. His neck cloth hung limp over his brown jacket. In all, he could spend an hour in a crowd and never be remarked upon.
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