The Lady's Disgrace (15 page)

Edith’s heart began to pound.
Her recent problem? Terrible time? How very intriguing. The perfect Lady Abigail with a problem that made her disappear from London? Do tell.

How could she get Sterling to elaborate on the subject without seeming overly inquisitive?

“I apologize for keeping you standing, my lady,” Edith said eying the older woman with solicitude. “May I lead you to a chair, and obtain some refreshment for you?”

“That would be lovely, my dear.” The woman smiled and accepted her nephew’s arm as they followed Edith to the line of chairs against the wall.

Her head spun with possibilities. What sort of a problem could Lady Abigail have gotten herself into? That could very well explain her sudden appearance as Joseph’s wife.

In all the time she’d known Joseph, he had never mentioned Lady Abigail. In fact, he’d never shown favor to any woman, other than friendship. It would be interesting to know if Joseph was privy to
her problem.
Inwardly, she giggled with glee.

While the ladies chatted, Sterling retrieved glasses of punch and slices of cake for them. Once he returned and settled alongside his aunt, Edith set her cup and plate aside and leaned closer to the couple. “We were so glad to see Lady Abigail so nicely settled here in our little village.”

“Yes. Again I must say I am surprised to see her. There were many in London who wondered where she’d gone.”

“It was such a difficult time for her.” Edith shook her head, desperately hoping Sterling would say more without her having to ask.

“Well, be assured that despite the nasty gossip surrounding her, Lady Sterling and I placed the blame for the catastrophe right on Redgrave’s doorstep.”

Redgrave?

“I must agree. The man is a cad.” Edith quelled the desire to grab him by his fancy neck cloth and shake the story out of him. This was getting good. Had the girl been compromised and Redgrave refused to do the honorable thing? Had she left London labeled a trollop? Her heart did a lively
pirouette
.

“What happened, Sterling?” The older lady asked.

At last!
Edith could have bent over and kissed the woman’s powdered cheek.

“It was most unfortunate, Aunt. Lady Abigail is the Duke of Manchester’s sister. She was betrothed to Lord Redgrave, and a few weeks before the wedding, he ran off with another woman.” He shook his head. “Disgraceful.”

“Oh, my. The poor girl.” Lady Blunden sniffed.

Sterling turned toward Edith. “Why is she here in Addysby End?”

“Lady Abigail is married to Mr. Joseph Fox, the rector at St. Gertrude’s Church here in the village.”

Lord Sterling leaned back in his chair, a slight smile on his face. “I am happy to hear that. I must make a point to speak with her, and wish her and her husband well. She is a lovely girl from an outstanding family.”

“Oh, yes,” Edith said. “We all absolutely
love
her.”

Chapter Fifteen

Two days after the assembly, Abigail headed to the stables for an early morning ride. Joseph was busy with one of his students, so the younger footman, David, accompanied her. She suspected Joseph insisted on her having company everywhere she went because of his concerns about her accidents.

She’d given the situation a lot of thought, herself. Perhaps these accidents were not truly “accidents.” Joseph had seemed to hint at that, but she’d dismissed it. Everyone she’d met so far in this lovely little village had been welcoming and pleasant. Maybe it was time for her to do some investigating of her own. Not that she had cause to suspect anyone, but she should certainly begin looking at everyone a bit differently.

Despite the fear she lived with each day, she would not hide herself or cower in her room. If someone did intend to harm her, she would find out whom, and turn him over to the authorities. How she would accomplish that feat remained to be seen, but just having that resolve boosted her spirits. In any event, after three days of rain, she intended to take advantage of the sun and enjoy her ride.

Soon she and Joseph would take an entire day visiting with the villagers and signing up students for school. She was very excited about the project. She’d spent hours designing lesson plans for different age students, drawing on her exercises from her governess.

She and her sisters had studied French, watercolors, music, and embroidering−things a gentlewoman would need to know. That, of course, would be of no benefit to her students. But they had also been schooled in reading, arithmetic, and writing. Those skills would be of great importance to the village children and help them obtain a better life for themselves.

The stable master assisted her onto her horse, Samara. The mare had been her twelfth year birthday present. She still remembered her excitement when Father had paraded the beautiful Palomino out of the stables and right up to her. He’d handed her the reins and had said, “Happy birthday, sweetheart. A beautiful animal for a beautiful young lady.”

Even now tears rimmed her eyes at the memory. Although her father had been gone for a few years, there were days her heart ached with missing him. He’d been right there in the midst of their loud and loving family, big as life, and then a throw from his horse, breaking his neck, had taken him away.

Before the reminder had her dissolving into tears, she took off, the mud spewing forth from the horse’s hoofs as she rounded the corner and headed in the opposite direction of town. The air was warm and clear—unlike her carriage rides in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. Another thing that she certainly didn’t miss. Not only were the visitors there to merely see and be seen, by late afternoon in the summertime, the air would be stifling and odorous.

Once she and David left behind the cottages that dotted the countryside, Abigail gave her horse her head, enjoying the wind ripping through her hair which had come loose from her topknot. Her heart beat faster as the horse sped along. Up ahead, a low hedge loomed, and she aimed straight for it.

Samara had always been a wonderful jumper, and it had been a while since they’d been out together to enjoy the exhilaration of flying over an obstacle—for a few seconds soaring in the air. Grinning, she spurred the animal faster, leaning low over her back as they approached the hedge.

Samara’s front legs left the ground just as Abigail heard a snap, and felt the saddle slide off the horse. She kicked her foot free of the stirrup, and threw her hands up as the ground seemed to come rushing up to her.

I’m going to die. Just like Papa.

…

“Sir, Mr. Melvin Grundell to see you,” Manning announced in his usual stiff tone.

As Grundell entered the room, Joseph was once again surprised at how little he remembered of the man. Truly a nondescript individual, which was probably a major asset in his line of work. He put his hand out to shake before they both settled into their chairs.

“I’ve come to give you my weekly report, Mr. Fox.” Joseph nodded to proceed and the man continued. “I’ve made some inquiries into the very short list of individuals you gave me who have access to the property. So far no one falls under the category of suspicious.”

“That is good to hear. I hate to think that someone I trust, who has entry to my property, would try to harm Lady Abigail.”

“There are still one or two from your list I have not had the opportunity to speak with yet. And another individual whose background I’m investigating. But until I have any solid answers for you, I prefer to wait until all my information has been received.”

Joseph would break into a cold sweat whenever he imagined the devastation he would feel if anything happened to Abigail. Their friendship marriage had turned into so much more. At least where he was concerned. Abigail was everything he could ever want in a wife. Smart, funny, beautiful, and an active bed partner. She would be a wonderful mother, and life for them could be very good.

He marveled at how fortunate he’d been to stop in to visit Manchester that day he was in London looking for patrons for his school. To think if he’d not been there right at that moment, his life would be so very different.

Although he had had an interest in Manchester’s wife, Penelope, back when Drake was still unconvinced that he loved the woman, no one else had ever attracted him since. Lady Durham had seemed to cast some intriguing looks in his direction. She was a pleasant woman, but something about her had held him back from any serious consideration as his wife.

Mr. Grundall flipped his notebook closed. “That is about all I have to report at this time. I assume that everything has been quiet since the fire?”

“Yes. I have either myself or a footman with Lady Abigail at all times.”

The investigator nodded. “That is a very good idea, Mr. Fox. Don’t you worry, we’ll run this person to the ground.”

The men shook hands and Grundell took his leave. Joseph stretched and headed to the front door where Manning kept watch. “Is Lady Abigail about?”

“She left with David about a half an hour ago for a ride.”

Joseph wandered to the library where his student was busy conjugating Latin verbs. He checked over his work and returned to his office. He sat behind the desk, and leaned back, propping his feet on the edge.

Within minutes, the front door of the house burst open, and shouting brought him to his feet. He pushed his chair back so rapidly it fell over. Ignoring it, he strode to the door and stepped into the corridor to see David carrying Abigail in his arms.

All the blood left his head and his heart began to pound. “What happened?” He raced forward and took his wife from the footman’s arms, shifting her so she rested against his chest.

“My lady was thrown from her horse when she attempted to jump a hedge.” The young man was sweating and had a wild look in his eyes.

Joseph started up the stairs. “Manning, send for the doctor.” At this rate, he should probably offer the doctor a room in his home.

“Yes, sir.”

He hugged Abigail’s body close to his, inhaling her sweet scent. There were slight scratches on her forehead and face, and as he studied her, her eyes flicked open. “Joseph?”

“Thank God.” He buried his face in her neck and fought back tears.

…

Lady Durham had been considering how she could use the information she’d garnered from Lord Sterling at the assembly. Lady Abigail had been practically left at the altar. How amusing. She scowled. And then like a knight in shining armor, Joseph had swooped in and rescued her from her shame. Why were the women born to privilege never left to suffer for long? There was always someone to extricate them from any type of hardship.

She sipped on her gin, wrinkling her nose at the lower class drink. Closing her eyes, she imagined this Lord Redgrave entering the scene and causing Joseph to send Abigail back to her family. Then she could offer herself as his mistress, which could pay quite well.

“Stupid!” She slammed the glass down. The man was a rector, for God’s sake. He’d never take a mistress. The only way she would get her hands on his money was as his wife. Which meant the lovely, jilted, Lady Abigail had to die. Perhaps after Edith’s little tinkering with dear little Mrs. Fox’s saddle, the woman was already dead.

She snorted. Not likely. Lady Abigail indeed had a guardian angel. The next attempt had to be the last time. But meanwhile she would wreak a little havoc with their cozy relationship. Maybe Joseph wouldn’t guard her so carefully if he thought his wife’s heart was with another.

Throwing back the last of the clear liquid in her glass, she broke into a grin. Yes, indeed. A little suspicion between husband and wife was a good thing. She swung her bare feet off the table top and hurried to the bedroom to change into her “lady” clothes.

…

It was late afternoon when Lady Abigail put her embroidering aside as her visitor entered the drawing room. “Lady Durham, how nice of you to call.”

Abigail had recovered from her fall, only having bruised herself. The thick bushes she’d landed in, plus her years as an avid horsewoman had saved her, since she’d known enough to kick her foot free of the stirrups before she’d flown off Samara.

Despite her assurances to Joseph that she was fine, merely sore in a few places, he had insisted on sending for the doctor who pronounced her fit, and after a day of bed rest, able to resume her normal activities.

She’d spent the time in bed composing a list of anyone she suspected might wish to cause her harm. It was a very short list. In fact, the only person on the list—her current guest—she had scratched off, feeling abashed at even thinking the woman would attempt to harm her.

If anything, she felt sorry for Lady Durham. There was something about her that seemed to not fit. Almost as if she didn’t belong in the world she found herself. And to be such a young, attractive widow in this small village.

“I have just rung for tea. I hope you will join me.”

Lady Durham settled in and removed her gloves. “I would love to.”

“Sweetheart, have you seen. . .” Joseph stopped as he strode through the doorway, papers clutched in his hand, and noted Abigail’s guest. “I apologize, I didn’t realize you had company.”

Something flashed in Edith’s eyes that had Abigail inhaling sharply. But before she could even analyze it, the look was gone. Almost as if Abigail had imagined it. Dismissing her fancifulness, she smiled. “Lady Durham was good enough to stop by to visit.”

“My lady,” Joseph said, bowing. “It is a pleasure to see you.”

“I am surprised to see you, Mr. Fox. I thought you were busy with the Bible study class on Wednesday afternoons.”

“Right you are, my lady. I was about to set off, horribly late, I’m afraid.” He turned to Abigail. “Have you seen my notes for this week’s sermon?”

Abigail smiled at Joseph’s forgetfulness. Although, with all he had on his mind, and now her safety added to his burden, it was no wonder he kept misplacing things. “Yes. You left them on the desk in my sitting room. I put them on the shelf behind your desk in the study.”

“Thank you, my dear.” He turned to Lady Durham. “I can’t imagine what I would do without her.”

Abigail leaned her head to one side as Joseph kissed her quickly on the cheek. “I will see you at dinner.”

In a whirlwind he was gone, leaving the women in peaceful silence. “He is most energetic,” Abigail said.

“Very much so.”

The footman entered with the tea tray, and Abigail busied herself with pouring tea and passing the tray of soft cheese and cucumber sandwiches, and lemon tarts to her guest.

I can’t imagine what I would do without her

Abigail warmed at Joseph’s words as Lady Durham began a lengthy discourse on one of the villager’s recent troubles with her husband. Listening with half an ear, Abigail’s thoughts wandered to how Joseph had held her so tightly, as he’d climbed the stairs to their bedchamber the day she had been thrown from Samara.

She’d been only too happy to drape her arms around his neck and breathe in his scent. Warm, spicy, and male. Familiar and comfortable. He’d placed her with extreme gentleness onto the bed and had sat alongside her, stroking her cheek with his fingertips, murmuring soft words.

“I want to wrap you in my arms, and never let you go,” he’d said, his voice thick with emotion.

At one time she would have assumed the saddle hadn’t been tightened correctly, but after a few well-placed questions to the stable master, she’d learned the girth strap had been cut. Not all the way through, just enough to weaken it as she rode. Another “accident” that obviously was an attempt to hurt her.

Now her fright had turned to anger. She’d done nothing to justify such treatment. If someone was attempting to scare her away from Addysby End, they’d chosen the wrong person to bully. She was here, and this is where she would stay.

Joseph seemed to watch her with such vigilance it was almost comical. Although, truth be known, the only time she felt completely safe and secure was in their bed when he held her in his arms. But they could not spend their days and nights snuggled under the covers. Soon she would have to make a visit into town to see if she could uncover anything that might be of interest to her investigation.

If only Joseph would share his concerns with her. They could put their heads together to solve this mystery. But with the protectiveness he surrounded her with, any suggestion from her that they work together to solve this would most likely end in him sending her to her brother.

“My dear, if you would excuse me, I need to use the facilities.”

Lady Durham’s request broke into Abigail’s thoughts, reminding her she was entertaining a guest and should not allow her mind to wander.

“Of course. Let me ring for someone to accompany you.”

“No need for that. I can find them by myself. If you will excuse me?”

Before Abigail could insist on being a good hostess, Lady Durham had exited the room, leaving her once more with her thoughts.

…

Edith hurried from the drawing room before Abigail changed her mind and sent for a maid to follow her about. Her heart pounding, she headed directly to Joseph’s study. Although sure he had already left for his Bible class, nevertheless, she tapped gently on the closed door. No answer.