The Lady's Disgrace (9 page)

Well, then.

Even in her innocence, his comment conjured up pictures that had heat spreading from her toes all the way to her hairline. She’d once snuck a book from her brother’s room that she and Marion had giggled over before he’d caught them and lectured them for over an hour. One picture in particular came to mind now. Her mouth formed a small circle.

The look in his eyes had turned from anger to something else in a flash. Goodness, but she felt warm of a sudden. She raised her hand to her forehead. Perhaps her fever had returned.

A tap on the door brought their attention to Sanders as she entered the room. “I heard my lady’s voice, sir. Has she awoken?” She took one look at Joseph practically on top of Abigail and began to back out.

“It is fine, Sanders. I would like a bath drawn, please.” Abigail eased back against the pillows. “Mr. Fox was just about to leave.”

“Yes, please come in and attend to her ladyship’s bath. It appears she is feeling quite a bit better.” Bowing slightly to Abigail, he added, “We will continue this conversation at another time, madam.”

Abigail resisted the temptation to stick her tongue out at his back.

Chapter Nine

Several weeks later, Abigail pulled on her soft leather gloves and entered Joseph’s study. “I am ready to go into town. Is this still a convenient time for you? If not, I could go by myself.”

“No. Nothing has changed. You are not to go by yourself. I shall be happy to accompany you. I will have the carriage brought around.”

The quick flash of anger in her eyes reminded him she had still not reconciled herself to having his company on all treks into town. Perhaps he was being foolish, and sending a footman with her would suffice, but the gnawing certainty in his mind that the bullet had not been from a careless hunter kept him from taking that step. He’d not have her injured once again. Although, he was also hard pressed to allow that the bullet had been on purpose. Why anyone would purposely shoot at his wife didn’t bear consideration.

A conundrum for sure.

She offered him a tight smile. “No need. I’ve already asked Manning to have that done.”

A smile twitched his lips as he watched her fuss with her gloves, then move to the mirror on the wall across from his desk and adjust her hat, smooth back her hair. He loved watching her when she was unaware of his regard. He still hadn’t gotten used to having a wife. Although she hadn’t been a wife in the true sense of the word since her injury. But he assured himself enough time had passed, and her healing would be complete. Tonight he would ply her with soft words and perhaps a bit of wine.

His body tightened with anticipation.

They strolled together out of the house and down the steps to the waiting carriage. He assisted Abigail into the conveyance, and grabbing the bar, swung himself onto the seat, settling across from her. The vehicle moved forward to the familiar sound of hooves striking the pebbled pathway.

“I am looking forward to seeing how the school building is progressing,” Joseph said as he crossed one booted foot over his knee. “The last time I visited, the workers were already laboring on the inside. We should be able to begin accepting students in a few weeks.

“And I received a note from the book people that our shipment of supplies should arrive shortly. In fact, we might find it has already been delivered to the school.”

Abigail gazed out of the window for a few moments, then turned to him. “I should like to teach some of the students myself.”

“Indeed? I had no idea you desired to be a governess.” He smiled at her affronted look at his teasing.

“Must I tell you once again that I am not the spoiled young debutante that you insist on painting me? In truth, I had grown weary of the constant round of parties and balls that comprise the Season in London. My closet can hold no more gowns, and I have no need for more ribbons, bonnets, and gloves.”

She leaned forward, as if to emphasize her sincerity. “I want to do something worthwhile. I have had all the advantages of money and station, and only since I’ve met your parishioners and their children, do I realize how very fortunate I have been. If I can teach just one child to read and write, and do sums, which will enhance his life, then that would mean more to me than all the ball gowns I possess.”

The fire in her eyes seared him. Perhaps he had indeed been thinking that as a duke’s sister she would be content with seeing the building raised and the supplies delivered for others to contend with. He knew from experience dealing with children would involve runny noses, soiled hands, and tears tracking down dirty cheeks.

“I apologize if I have hurt your feelings. That was never my intention. You must forgive me my thoughtlessness since, like most of us who are not in the upper classes, we assume, maybe unfairly, that those of you who are, would never delve into a project such as this with all the enthusiasm you offer.” He reached across the space separating them and took her hand. “And for that I am grateful to have you as my wife.”

…

Abigail warmed at his words. Even if he had married her for money, he was a considerate and caring man. If she could only disabuse him of this notion that all she was good for was to sit around and watch everyone else work.

She would certainly prove him wrong. Despite her station, her upbringing had been unusual for members of the
ton
. Her mother had not been one to give birth, then turn over the raising of her children to nannies and governesses. The Dowager Duchess of Manchester had romped in the snow, organized games for the village children, and herded her brood of seven children to many a picnic and trek to the swimming hole.

True, Abigail had never been in a position to have to seek employment, but she was determined to make a go of her situation and since love would never be involved in her marriage, at least she could have the satisfaction of knowing she’d made a difference in someone’s life.

The remainder of the ride was spent in pleasant conversation about the school, with Abigail’s excitement growing. “How shall we go about enrolling the children?”

“Most likely we will need to make visits to the townspeople’s homes. It will be important for us to reassure them that the children will not neglect their household chores. At the same time, we’ll need to emphasize the importance of education.”

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the dry goods store, where the mail was delivered. Joseph helped Abigail down, and they entered the store to the sound of a small bell that chimed as the door opened.

“Mr. Fox. I have quite a delivery here for you.” The man behind the counter sported a full beard, and a large nose, which somehow balanced out his looks. He pushed his spectacles up on his face and waved in the direction of the rear of the store. “I had the man stack them all in my back room.”

“Thank you, Mr. Davies. Those would be the supplies for our school. I should like to take a look at what has arrived.”

Mr. Davies led the way through a narrow corridor to a dimly lit back room. He pointed to boxes stacked along the south wall of the building. “There you are, Mr. Fox.”

Three rows of boxes, standing about five high, took up a goodly amount of space. Each container was stamped with the words Lumsden & Son.

“May we go through them now?” Abigail asked.

“Perhaps another day when we have more time. In fact, I will arrange for the boxes to be sent to the school building, and we can peruse them at our leisure.” Joseph addressed the store owner. “Can you have these delivered to the new school building?”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Fox. As soon as young Charlie is through with his chores at home, I’ll have him bring them by in our wagon.” The man hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Might I say that I am grateful for your interest in educating our children? Others might think it a waste of time, but I want Charlie and his brothers to take over this store, and as busy as Mrs. Davies and I are, there is really no time to teach them their letters and numbers.”

“Thank you, Mr. Davies. That is our aim for this school,” Joseph said, as Abigail looked at the selections of soap.

After choosing a bar of rose-scented soap, cream for her hands, and several handkerchiefs for Joseph, Abigail tucked her arm into her husband’s and they left the store.

The pale green leaves on the trees lining the winding cobbled street bestowed a sense of newness, along with a resurgence of hope. Early summer always felt like a new beginning. The soft breeze on her face felt like silk, the pale sun warming her skin. She breathed deeply of the honeysuckle climbing a stone fence surrounding a small cottage. She smiled at the resemblance to the drawings in her fairy tale books that her mother had read to them every night during her childhood. A sense of peace, belonging, and joy filled her. She turned to Joseph and caught him staring at her, a slight smile on this face. “What?” she asked.

“I enjoy watching you. You seem content.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “I believe I am.”

“And is that all you wish for?”

She stiffened, afraid he was looking for more. More than she was prepared to give. “Yes, I believe there is a lot to be said for contentment.”

The day suddenly didn’t seem quite so rosy. Joseph confused her, caused her to wonder exactly what it was he wanted from her. Their marriage had not only provided him with her dowry, but also freed up his own money. That had been their agreement. He would get the money he needed for his school, she would get the respectability of marriage, home, and one day a family.

She certainly hoped he wasn’t planning on changing the rules. She’d made it perfectly clear when he’d proposed. A friendship, a partnership. Fondness perhaps, and yes—contentment. But she had no intention of opening up her heart again.

…

Joseph sensed Abigail’s withdrawal. He felt as though he were walking on thinly layered ice. It had all seemed so easy at the beginning. Their agreement had made sense. If not for his impromptu visit to Manchester, he would have finished his business in London, and returned with enough donors to build his school. One day he would have taken a wife, but that had certainly not been on his mind that morning.

Now he found himself married to a woman he’d relegated to the back of his mind years ago as unattainable. A woman he could easily fall in love with, if he hadn’t already. But she wanted no part of his love.

“Mr. Fox.” Joseph was brought out of his musing by a shrill, feminine voice behind him.

He turned to see Lady Durham hurrying toward them, her face flushed. He and Abigail paused to allow her to join them.

“I just heard that you were shot, Lady Abigail. My goodness, how terrible for you. Are you recovered?” Lady Durham took Abigail’s hand, her face a mask of concern.

“Yes, I am fine. Thank you, Lady Durham.” Abigail smiled warmly.

“Do you have any idea who did this terrible thing?” The woman leaned in farther, causing Abigail to move back a step, bumping into Joseph’s chest.

She shrugged. “Most likely a careless hunter.”

Lady Durham stepped back with a sigh. “I am so very happy that you are fully recovered. As I’m sure Mr. Fox is.” She smiled brightly at him.

“Indeed.”

“Well, I shall be on my way. I wish you continued good health, Lady Abigail.”

Abigail dipped her head gracefully. “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you for your concern,” Joseph added.

…

Later that evening, a soft knock on her dressing room door drew Abigail’s attention from her place at the window. In the scant moonlight, she could see the well-tended garden with the meandering pathway that continued out of her sight, ending at the orangery. “Yes?”

Joseph entered the room, dressed in a red and brown print banyan. She had realized that he intended to resume lovemaking. If his heated gazes hadn’t forewarned her, the constant touches as they sat at dinner, and later in the library while he enjoyed a brandy, had made it perfectly clear that his forced celibacy would come to an end tonight.

He’d been the consummate gentleman while she’d been recovering, solicitous and accommodating. Although they’d slept in the same bed the entire time, he had ended each evening with a kiss to her forehead, and then had rolled over to sleep. Or at least he had given the impression of going to sleep.

With the pain in her arm settling into a constant ache the last few days, it had taken her a while to fall asleep each night. She’d been aware of Joseph’s restlessness, his thrashing, and the lengthening of time each night until she heard his deep breathing.

“You look particularly lovely this evening.” He sauntered toward her, the banyan separating as he neared, drawing her eyes to his muscular legs, dusted in brown hair. Her stomach clenched with expectation, and her heart sped up. Disconcerted at how much she’d missed his attentions, she reminded herself that once she found herself with child, she would insist he uphold his part of their agreement.

But could she?

Joseph stopped a mere few inches from her and cupped her face in his warm, large hands. “I’ve missed you.”

“I haven’t been gone.” Her attempt to bring levity into their exchange faltered when her voice came out raspy and breathless. Good heavens, his mere touch weakened her knees so that she needed to grab onto his arms to keep herself upright. His strong arms, warm and firm, the muscles shifting under her palms as he moved his hands down, pulled her closer.

He leaned his forehead on hers. “I want you so much, but I’m concerned for your injury.” He scattered kisses along her jaw, her neck and the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Please tell me you’ve healed enough.”

“Yes.” She moaned softly, and slid her hand up, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I believe I have.”

“Thank the Lord.” Suddenly, she was lifted into the cradle of his arms, and he strode to the bed, laying her gently down, then stretching out alongside her. “If I hurt you, please let me know.”

She hummed her answer and pulled his head down for a searing kiss. All thoughts of pain, keeping Joseph from her bed once she was with child, and life in general, seeped from her mind as his roving hands left a trail of fire in their wake.

Sliding her nightgown from her shoulders, he blazed a trail of kisses from her collarbone to her navel before moving up her body, nibbling on her skin. His tongue caressed her sensitive swollen nipple, and he suckled hard—she felt the pull all the way to her core.

He raised his head and stared into her eyes, his hand drifting over her curves. “I love the feel of your skin under my hands. It’s like silk. I could do this all day.” His eyes darkened, a fine sheen of perspiration covering his body. His hand moved to her lower back, and he eased her close, rubbing himself against her core.

The strength of his body robbed her of breath. She brushed the hair back from his brow, wondering what it was she saw in his eyes. Hunger—absolutely. He desired her, there was no doubt. But something else in his look frightened her. The tenderness, the longing for what he wanted from her that wasn’t only physical. Something she would forever hold back.

His gaze drifted to her lips. Her concerns forgotten for the moment, her entire world narrowed to Joseph’s mouth and hands. She was enveloped in his scent, the heaviness of his body pressing her into the mattress. He shifted, his fingers playing at the entrance to her body, sliding in and out of her feminine heat.