The Lady's Disgrace (7 page)

Instead of answering, he scooped her into his arms, and tucking her against his chest, headed for the door. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tightly as he took the stairs two at a time. He shifted her body so he was able to unlatch the bedchamber door. The distance between the door and the huge bed sitting in the middle of the room disappeared in a flash.

Joseph slid her down his body, easing off her clothing with nimble fingers, until she stood nude before him. Unwilling to be the only undressed member of the party, Abigail yanked at his jacket. He shrugged it off before pulling apart his shirt, buttons popping and flying in all directions.

Heat radiated from his body in waves. She ran her palms over his skin, fascinated as his muscles rippled under her touch. The crinkly hairs in the center of his chest ended at the top of his breeches, leaving her curious as to what followed.

His hands gripped her bottom, kneading, massaging, pulling her forward, against
it
. She moved her lower body, the friction sending jolts of pleasure from her woman’s place right to her breasts. She moaned softly as he nuzzled her neck, whispering meaningless words in her ear. But the vibration of his chest against her body excited her, causing her breasts to swell, the nipples to bead.

All of her senses came alive. The scent of leather and Joseph, the taste of his skin, salty and spicy, as her lips, then the tip of her tongue, savored him. Within seconds he eased her back onto the bed, coming down to lie alongside her. He stroked his palm over her curves, from her breast to the dip at her waist to the rise of her hips. “Take out your pins,” he whispered. His deep brown eyes had darkened to nearly black, the passion evident even in her innocence.

Abigail reached behind her and removed the hairpins. She shook her head, sending the length of her hair tumbling down her back. Joseph grasped the back of her neck and pulled her forward. Reclaiming her lips, he crushed her to him while his fingers laced through her hair, tangling in the mass.

He drew back and pulled her curls forward, so the strands rested on her breasts. “Your hair is like a curtain of velvet.”

She closed her eyes. Her hair resting against her bare shoulders as he teased her nipple with the locks, heightened the dampness and throbbing in her lower parts.

She was on the verge of something momentous, a slow buildup of previously unknown pleasure. Rolling on top of her, his weight crushed her into the mattress. The contrast between the hardness of his body and her softness overwhelmed her senses. She traced her fingertips lightly over his arms, then encircled his neck, tugging him forward for a kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, and she met his invasion with her own. As she dueled with him, a sense of urgency drove her, readying her for the next step.

Her body on fire, she ached for a way to release the tortuous need his assiduity had awoken in her. Surely there must be something he could do to relieve her of this torment. Almost as if he’d read her mind, Joseph eased away, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Don’t go anywhere.” Shocked at the coolness that wafted over her skin at the loss of his heat, she rose up on her elbows as he removed his stockings and boots. He unfastened his breeches, and her breath hitched. He shoved his breeches down, his gaze never leaving hers. Her eyes grew wide and she backed up until she was at the very edge of the bed.

She shook her head. “No.”

“It’s all right, sweetheart.” He climbed in next to her, and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her forward.

“No.”

“There is nothing to worry about.”

“No.”

…

No amount of words was going to ease her mind, so Joseph pulled Abigail to his body and cupped her face. He started at her forehead, and leaving a trail of kisses, worked his way down to her nose, cheeks, chin, chest, and then took her breast into his mouth and suckled. He smiled at the sigh of pleasure that came from her lips, at the way her tense muscles eased.

Once she seemed more relaxed, he moved his hand down to her feminine heat, surprised and pleased to find her swollen and wet. His fingers moved over her, stroking and caressing.

“Oh, my.” She shifted beneath him, pressing her nether parts against his fingers.

“Like that, do you?” he asked.

“Yes.” The word came out on a whispery gasp.

He studied her as he continued his ministrations. Her eyes were closed, a slight smile on her face. The flush on her cheeks and the increase in her breathing told him how close she was to her release. He thought of all the things he could do to bring her to completion, but he would save those. As an innocent, he didn’t want to scandalize her the first time. But as he licked her nipples, the restless movement of her legs played havoc with his control.

He shifted until he was over her, his fingers still busy. A soft keening sound started in her chest, and she stiffened and pressed her legs together, pushing so hard on his hand that she lifted them both off the bed. “Joseph,” she cried out.

“I’m here, my sweet.”

Once she slumped, he spread her legs further apart with his knees and slowly began to enter her. She opened her eyes, a siren’s smile on her lips as she brushed back the hair falling over his brow. He lowered his head and moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness. His forehead beaded with sweat as he took her inch by inch, enveloped by her warmth and moistness.

“It feels so odd.”

“Am I hurting you?” His jaw tightened as he attempted to hold himself back.

She shook her head.

He continued until he met her resistance. Braced on his elbows, he held her face and whispered, “I’m sorry.” He thrust forward, but no cry erupted from her mouth. Instead, a small tear leaked from her eye that he brushed away with his thumb. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, and after a minute, shifted under him. Encouraged by her movement, he began the rhythm that would bring him a much needed release. He lowered his head to her neck where he whispered words of her beauty, of the feel of her soft, plush body, what she was doing to him, how much he desired her. Abigail wrapped her legs around his hips, tilting herself as he went deeper. She clutched his arms, her nails digging deep, rolling her head back and forth.

It had been some time since he’d lain with a woman, so within minutes he felt close to an explosion. Throwing his head back, he groaned as he shuddered with release. Without conscious thought, he collapsed on top of her, his breathing so erratic he felt as though all the air in the world had vanished.

Chapter Seven

Abigail frowned at the burst of sunlight in her face. Still half asleep, she eased her eyes open to see Joseph standing by the window, apparently having just secured the cord on the drapes.

He was naked. Oh, dear. All golden skin and muscular body. Muscles that rippled as he drew back the other drape and secured the cord.

Memories of the several times they’d made love the previous night swept over her, coinciding with the wave of heat that started at her toes and went directly to her face.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Now why did that endearment bother her so much? Lord knew the man had used it enough last night when they were…

But now in the morning light, it seemed a bit too intimate. She didn’t want to be his sweetheart, only his partner. In fact, she wasn’t at all happy with the look on his face. His demeanor held an expectation of something beyond the possible procreation of a child; perhaps a shift in their relationship.

She needed to disavow him of any ideas along that line. He’d agreed to sharing the marriage bed until she was increasing. As soon as she had proof of that condition, she would move into the other bedroom.

Suddenly aware that she, too, was without clothing, she tugged the covers up to her neck. “Good morning.” Lifting her chin, she assessed him coolly. “If you will be so kind as to ring for my lady’s maid, I would like a bath this morning.” She stared at him directly. “In my bedchamber.”

At her words, his smile dimmed and his expression changed to one of aloofness, but not before she saw the light of
something
leave his eyes. She pushed away the prickling of guilt. Surely he wasn’t developing a
tendre
for her? She must put an end to that immediately.

He nodded. “As you wish.” He strode to the door, grabbing his banyan on the way and shrugging into it. He alerted a footman to send Sanders to her ladyship’s bedchamber.

Not sure how to exit gracefully, her gown nowhere to be seen, Abigail wrapped herself in the sheet and made a quick escape through the door adjoining the two chambers.

She breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the closed door. She’d hurt Joseph, but it couldn’t be helped. He had agreed to her conditions, after all. Better for him to have a small hurt now, than for her to have to grapple with a large hurt later. Love was fleeting, she’d discovered.

No, it was better this way. Let her and Joseph stay friends and partners. They would build a life of contentment and productivity. They would create a fine school and make a difference in the lives of his parishioners. That was her goal. And if things were to remain pleasant between them, it had better be his goal as well.

“Here we are, my lady.” Sanders, her lady’s maid, entered the room in front of a footman carrying a large bathtub. He set it alongside the fireplace. Two maids followed with buckets of water, as the footman started a fire in the hearth.

She’d been surprised to discover during the tour with Mrs. O’Neill yesterday that in addition to the housekeeper, Joseph employed Manning—his butler who doubled as a valet when needed—a cook, two maids, two footmen, a gardener, and a stable man. A miniscule staff compared to what she was used to, but nevertheless, more servants than she’d expected. She was especially pleased with Sanders, who was Cook’s niece. So far she’d proven to be quite a proficient lady’s maid.

Joseph had even indicated that if she felt it necessary to add to the household, she merely needed to tell Mrs. O’Neill to secure more help. Yes, life here could be quite pleasant. If she could keep her distance from her husband.

Once the tub was filled and the servants gone, she sank gratefully into its warmth. The slight soreness between her legs eased as the hot water surrounded her. Admittedly, the discomfort she’d experienced paled compared to the pleasure that had brought the minor pain about.

Truth be known, she’d thoroughly enjoyed Joseph’s attentions last evening. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and relived their time together, amazed that every joining had been as good as the first.

The night before, after their breathing had returned to normal for the last time, Joseph had wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, her back to his chest. She’d relished the warmth, but somehow the position seemed more intimate than what they’d just done.

Then as she drifted off to sleep, she felt him nuzzling her neck, and whispering in her ear. She tried to remember the words he’d murmured, but to no avail.

“My lady, shall I wash your hair now?” Sanders bustled into the room, several drying cloths draped over her arm. “Then I’ll brush out the tangles while you sit by the fire.”

Wrenched from her meanderings, Abigail sat forward so the maid could minister to her, all thoughts of Joseph and his lovemaking relegated to a place in her mind called
visit-with-care.

…

Joseph entered the breakfast room to find it empty. Not that he’d expected Abigail to arrive before him. He assumed ladies and their baths took quite some time.

The enticing aroma of eggs, kippers, ham slices, and herring in cream sauce, laid out on the table, along with toast, fresh rolls, and coffee reminded him how hungry he was. Perhaps all the activity last evening had increased his appetite. At least one appetite had been appeased. For now.

Once his plate was filled, he took his place at the head of the table, glancing at the setting to his right where his wife would join him.

His wife.

Fool he, to think last night had changed anything between them. Abigail had been just as aloof this morning as she’d been the day she’d accepted his
proposal
and laid out the rules of how they would go on. No doubt she would have felt quite differently had Redgrave been in her bed.

His stomach tightened at the thought of the cad. Were he ever to meet up with the man, he would find a great deal of satisfaction in plowing his fist into Redgrave’s nose. Then he would shake his hand in thanks for making it possible for him to have Abigail as his wife.

If she only desired his friendship and his seed, he would work to change her mind. She wanted to be mistress of her own home and have children. He had required money. Although such arrangements were so basic, and typical of the upper crust, he had no plans of being satisfied with those terms, despite Abigail’s intentions.

“I believe the lovely scent of breakfast led me directly here.” Abigail entered, her usual sunny disposition back in place. She smiled at him as he held out her chair, then looked away. “I am quite ravenous this morning.”

Joseph refrained from pointing out his previous observation that their night time activities might have spurred their hunger. “I will send for tea. My footman is used to having coffee for me at breakfast.”

“Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”

“Or do you prefer chocolate?”

“No, thank you. Tea will be fine.”

He signaled to the footman, who hurried away to do as he bid. “May I fill a plate for you?”

“No. Thank you, I prefer to make a selection.” She eyed the offerings. “Everything looks wonderful.”

Joseph’s appetite vanished, and not because he’d eaten part of his meal. The conversation between himself and his wife was so stilted and awkward, it was almost as if they’d just met in a London ballroom. Dear God, they were husband and wife, had known each other all their lives, and had shared a bed last night.

“Abigail.”

“Yes?”

“Look at me.”

Apparently attuned to his mood, she placed her hands in her lap and studied him.

Joseph leaned back and crossed his arms. “What is the matter?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. You’re an intelligent woman—” he paused as the footman entered and placed the teapot in front of them.

“Thank you,” she said. “What was your name again? I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.”

“Posey, my lady.”

“I shall remember the next time.”

“That’s all, Posey. You may leave us now.” Joseph waited until the footman quietly closed the door, then he turned to Abigail. “About last night.”

“Yes. It was a lovely meeting, and I enjoyed spending time with the ladies. I think it will be beneficial for me to join their group. They are sewing baby clothes for the poor. It seems like a very worthwhile project…”

He allowed her to go on about the meeting as she obviously did not want to discuss the same activities of last night that he wished to discuss. Two red spots appeared on her cheeks as she jerkily poured tea for herself, her words tripping over each other. Feeling a bit of sympathy for her unease, he merely smiled as her comments faltered and then stopped.

“I am glad you enjoyed meeting my parishioners. And I believe joining the women’s sewing circle is an excellent idea.” He checked his pocket watch. “However, I fear I must leave you now. I am expecting a visit from a young man I’ve been tutoring in preparation for his entry into University.”

“Oh.” The air seemed to leave her, like a deflated ball. “Perhaps I will take a stroll after breakfast. I should like to walk to the village and meet those who were not in attendance last evening.”

On his way out, Joseph brushed a kiss over her forehead. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I shall be tied up for the morning, so perhaps I will join you for luncheon?”

Abigail nodded, unaware that he watched her from the doorway as she touched her fingertips to the spot he had kissed. His stomach knotted in frustration, he continued down the corridor.

…

The scent of newly awakened flowers filled the late spring air. The half hour walk to the village gave Abigail plenty of time to muse over her new life. It had seemed strange this morning to not spend time going through invitations, admiring bouquets of flowers from potential suitors, and receiving callers—her life as it had been since she’d left the schoolroom. Now she was a married woman with responsibilities beyond her expected realm.

As she entered the village proper, the lure of meat pies drew her into the first shop. The flush-faced woman behind the counter was selling her wares as quickly as she took them out of the oven. Abigail joined the queue, introducing herself to those she hadn’t yet met. Most people had already heard of Joseph’s marriage, and welcomed her warmly.

With a smile on her face and a warm meat pie in her hand, she left the shop and continued on her way. Being a market town, Addysby End boasted a number of shops, as well as a small circulating library and an inn.

“Lady Abigail!”

She turned to see a young woman with a babe in her arms hurrying toward her. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she startled Abigail by bursting into tears. “Oh, dear. I’m nothing more than a watering pot.”

Abigail touched the woman lightly on her arm. “It is all right. Is there something I can help you with?”

The woman wiped the tears from her face and shook her head. “No. You have done so much for me already.”

When Abigail regarded her with raised eyebrows, she continued. “You rescued my little girl from being attacked by our pig a few days ago.”

“You must be Agnes’s mother. Mrs. Dinger, correct?”

“Yes, I am. I meant to attend the meeting last night about the school so I could thank you then, but this one,”—she nodded toward the baby settled firmly on her hip—“decided to raise a fuss about going to sleep, and Mr. Dinger is not too handy with the children.”

“It was no trouble for me. Is Agnes recovered from her fright?”

“Oh, she is fine, but I see you still have scratches on your face. I am so sorry that nasty pig got out to begin with. I’ve told my boys to be careful with latching the fence.”

“I am happy your little girl wasn’t injured.”

Mrs. Dinger smiled, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Well, thank you again. If there is ever anything I can do for you…”

“I will be sure to ask. It was a pleasure meeting you.” Abigail touched the baby’s sweet cheek with the back of her hand and continued on her way. Perhaps one day she would have a little one of her own in her arms. She thought of a boy with Joseph’s deep brown eyes and wavy black hair. An imp with a smile that would wrap her around his tiny finger. Or a little girl with curly black hair, who would surely wrap her father around her finger.

For the first time, she realized her children would not be
Lady
or
Lord
. Not that titles mattered so much to her, as it wasn’t something she’d ever thought about one way or another, since she’d just assumed it would be so. At least with her and Joseph’s connections, and their sufficient funds, any children of theirs would certainly be able to take their place among Polite Society when the time came. She would have to be careful with their education and make sure they had all the advantages they would have enjoyed had she’d married Redgrave.

Redgrave
. Just the thought of him brought shivers to her. What a bounder the man had turned out to be. Despite the disgrace his abandonment had caused her, she was grateful that his wicked side had emerged before they had irrevocably joined themselves together. Now if she could only erase him from her heart, all would be well.

She wiped her fingers on the handkerchief in her reticule and glanced down the street. The small circulating library caught her eye, and she headed straight for it. The town certainly boasted enough shops to keep her well supplied. In fact, she need never return to London if she wished. At one time that thought would have panicked her. Now it was comforting. Village life was very appealing.

The tinkle of a bell sounded as she opened the door of the circulating library. The welcoming and familiar scent of paper and leather drifted toward her. Shelves of books lined the walls, and an older man sat at a desk near the door, writing in some type of a ledger. He looked up as she entered and smiled. “You must be the rector’s new wife. Lady Abigail.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I am Mr. Fogel. We were all happy to hear Mr. Fox had married. Although I’m sure some of the ladies who had their eye on him weren’t too pleased.” His warm smile and twinkling eyes brought a grin to her face.