Joseph waved to the chair in front of his desk. “How may I assist you, Mr. Grundell?”
The man sat on the edge of the chair, leaning forward. “I am here to assist you, sir. The Duke of Manchester has engaged me to investigate the accidents your wife appears to have suffered of late.”
Joseph tapped his pen on the desk. “Yes. He did say he would be sending you. I am most grateful for any light you can shed on this matter.”
Mr. Grundell reached into his pocket, withdrew a small notebook and flipped open the pages. “Now start from the beginning, Mr. Fox, and tell me everything that has happened to your lovely wife since she arrived.” He looked up. “How long ago was that?”
“A little more than two months.”
Once again, reliving what Abigail had suffered in such a short period of time angered and frightened him. Mr. Grundell took notes, every once in a while looking up at Joseph, but never interrupting. Laid out the way it was, he wondered if the man believed him to be a case for Bedlam. Why else would he imagine that someone was purposely attempting to harm a woman who had no connection to the village prior to their marriage?
“Now, Mr. Fox. Can you think of anyone who has a reason to dislike your new wife? Who might have a reason to wish you hadn’t married her?”
Joseph leaned back and rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, his thumb and index finger bracing his chin. “I don’t understand.”
Mr. Grundell checked his notes. “It seems to me everything was real peaceful and quiet-like until you arrived back here with a bride.”
“I doubt my marriage has anything to do with this.”
“Ah, it could, if there is someone who feels like he or she lost something when you married. Had you made promises to another lady?”
“Of course not! I would never dishonor a woman in that way.”
Mr. Grundell raised his palm. “I meant no insult, sir. I’m wondering if perhaps someone is not merely unhappy with your wife, but with the fact that she is your wife.”
An image of Lady Durham flashed before him, but he quickly dismissed it. The widow was a well-bred lady whom he had befriended when she’d arrived in Addysby End. She was still in mourning for her husband. No, he assured himself. What Mr. Grundell was suggesting could not have anything to do with this situation. “Do you suppose Lady Abigail may have an enemy who followed her here from London?”
“When I spoke with His Grace, he mentioned something about his sister being jilted before she married you.”
He nodded. “She was. She’d been betrothed to Viscount Redgrave, and the cad ran out on her.”
Mr. Grundell jotted that information down, then flipped his notebook closed. “I have taken up residence at the Addysby Inn. As far as the villagers know, I am merely here on holiday, at my doctor’s advice.” He rose and shoved the notebook into his pocket. “I would like you to make a list of anyone who has access to your property. Employees, friends, neighbors. Once you have compiled the listing, bring it with you to your service on Sunday. I will get it from you then.”
“Very well. I should also tell you I don’t wish my wife to be upset by this investigation. She is not to know about it at all.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“She believes these are accidents. I prefer not to worry her by suggesting that perhaps someone wishes her ill. However, I have arranged with members of my staff to make certain she is not alone when I cannot be with her.”
“Very well, Mr. Fox. I will do my best to keep my queries from her.”
“Thank you.” Joseph opened the library door. “Manning will see you out. Good day.”
Joseph turned and wandered to the window. Abigail strolled in the garden, bending occasionally to examine a flower up closer. Ten steps behind her, one of the footmen followed.
The sun glinted off the gold and emerald band on her finger as she reached to pick one of the gardener’s prized roses, then sniffed it, closing her eyes. His heart gave a tug as he watched her innocently enjoying a walk in the garden. Yet, as he’d discovered the day of the fire, she was not even safe here in her own home. He hated to think one of his staff was behind these accidents. He shook his head in denial. They had all been with him since he’d arrived several years ago.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then sighed and returned to his desk. Life could be very enjoyable once the mystery of her accidents was solved. Then he could spend time convincing Abigail that love could be a part of their marriage.
In fact, maybe he would not wait until then before he wooed her. They’d had no real courtship, when most young couples discover each other and fall in love. Most likely, all of Abigail’s memories of them being children together were helping to keep her more mature emotions in check.
A courtship was a fine idea. He would take her on a picnic soon. They would laze about on a blanket and share food and a bottle of wine. He’d encourage her to remove her stockings and shoes and wade in the creek. If they found a secluded enough place, maybe he would make love to her. Right there in the open before God and all the small animals.
Winning her love could be very enjoyable, indeed. Something that was very important to him.
That, and discovering who was trying to kill her.
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Edith Durham accepted the driver’s hand and stepped up to enter her coach. She wiggled a bit to settle in, smoothing her skirts as the carriage jerked, and then eased into a steady ride toward the village. She clenched her fists and stared out the window. Lady Abigail had to be the luckiest person in all of England. Who would have thought getting rid of one bothersome woman would be so difficult? If she didn’t oust Mrs. Fox from her snug position alongside Joseph, Edith would be stuck in this miserable village for the rest of her life, with no more than a couple hundred pounds each year doled out by the stingy Lord Durham.
Curse the earl and his insipid wife, who’d looked down her long nose, and pulled her skirts close when they’d been introduced. As if Edith was something nasty on her shoe. Well, she would show them. She’d show the entire world. Once Lady Abigail was out of the picture, no one would stand between her and Joseph’s money. No one.
A few hours later, her errands completed, she bid the innocuous shopkeeper good day and waved at her useless driver to move the coach forward to where she waited. Honestly, if stupid were a hanging offense, the man would be rotting in the ground. Once he arrived, she had to stand tapping her foot as he lumbered down from his perch and ambled over to open the door. She scowled as she swept past him, comforting herself with visions of the look on his face when she told him his services were no longer needed, and he would receive no reference.
Ensconced in the carriage, she leaned back and gazed out at the passing scenery. Languidly fanning herself, she noticed a man and a woman off in the distance, apparently enjoying a summer afternoon picnic. As she watched, they stood, and strolled to the creek hand-in-hand.
Young lovers. At one time she would have envied them. Now, after years of conniving and scratching out a living by any means she could, love was not something she cared about. Money was all that mattered. Money to buy all the gowns, slippers, and fancy coaches she wanted. And jewels. She would have diamonds and emeralds. There were times when she felt way beyond her four and twenty years.
She continued to view the man and woman as they splashed each other with water from the creek. The woman laughed, gathered her skirts in her fist, and they both stepped farther into the water. Edith continued to study them. The man pulled the woman to his side, wrapping his arms around her. She released her skirts to slide her hands up his chest, the heavy material dragging in the water, although she didn’t seem to notice—or care. He nuzzled her neck, then took her mouth in a searing kiss.
Any uneasiness she might have felt watching such a private scene was quickly pushed away. If they wished to make a spectacle of themselves in pubic, far be it from her to care. She had more important things to concern herself with. She sat bac
k as the noise of her carriage must have caught the man’s attention, and he broke the kiss and turned toward the road.
Joseph!
Anger raced through her like a galloping steed. Pounding her fist on her leg, she whipped the curtain closed and cursed the cozy sight. This could not continue.
She thumped on the carriage ceiling. “Hurry up, you dolt. I would like to get home sometime today.”
There must be some sort of mischief she could cause them. It was time to put an end to this botheration.
…
Abigail had been thrilled when Joseph stopped in before luncheon and suggested they take the afternoon off and have Cook pack a picnic basket for them. He assured her his sermon for Sunday was finished, and his only student for the day had happily departed for home. “It is too lovely a day for us not to enjoy it.”
More than pleased to put away the lessons she’d been working on for the opening of the school next week, Abigail hurried to the kitchen. Cook had quickly put together a basket with cheese, fruit, bread, and cold meat. Joseph joined her in the kitchen, and giving her a wink, slid a bottle of wine into the basket.
Now the remnants of their feast littered the blanket Joseph had spread out for them, and they were enjoying the last of the wine. “My mother is fond of picnics. I’m sure you remember, since you practically lived at our house when we were growing up.”
“Yes, I remember it well. The dignity of your mother’s station in life never kept her from having fun. Her escapades were well known in Donridge Heath.” He extended his hand toward her. “Come. Let’s enjoy the coolness of the creek again.”
They’d been in and out of the refreshing water all afternoon. They spent some time playing in the water, splashing each other. Already barefoot, Abigail gathered her skirts in her hand and sighed with pleasure as the cooling liquid swirled between her toes. Joseph wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her neck. She tilted her head, her lips coming within an inch of his, then dropped her skirts as she encircled his neck. Something flashed in Joseph’s eyes that started her senses humming. He dipped his head that mere inch and took her mouth in a sizzling kiss. He nibbled on her lower lip, then urged her mouth open.
She ran her palms over his sun-warmed muscled back, the hardness of his body against hers making her weak. The scent of him, so familiar to her now, set her blood to pumping, and her lower parts to weeping. His hands moved up her arms and gripped her head, moving it one way, and then the other, deepening their kiss until Abigail was flush with passion.
…
Joseph broke from the kiss and looked up at a carriage rumbling by on the road. A reminder that the spot he’d chosen for their picnic did not have the privacy for this sort of behavior. Oh, how I’d like to lay her down on the soft, warm grass and have my way with her. Watch her eyes darken with passion, her breath come in pants, her naked breasts rise and fall. . .
Instead he kissed her hand, and brushed the errant curls from her cheek. “Perhaps we should pack up.” Then he could get her home and finish what he had started.
At first somewhat dazed, Abigail nodded, and hands joined, they strolled back to the blanket where she sat and rolled on her stockings. He tried his best to avoid watching her perform such a provocative activity. Sweat beaded his forehead as she bent her knee, causing her skirt to slide down to the tops of her long legs, leaving all that creamy skin exposed. She glanced at him with an enticing smile, and he knew her thoughts were moving in the same direction as his.
He hurried to pack up the food, then slipped on his own stockings and shoes. Abigail folded the blanket, and with everything set to right, they headed to the waiting carriage. They grinned at each other when Joseph had to wake the driver from an afternoon slumber. Once they were settled, and he’d signaled they were ready, he turned his attention to Abigail. “There is an assembly dance next week.”
Her face lit up, causing a twinge of guilt to nudge at him. Perhaps she did miss London and all the balls and entertainments.
“How nice. I haven’t been to a dance since I left London.” She paused and tilted her head, bringing his attention to her full lips. Berry red lips still swollen from his kiss. “It will be quite pleasant to dance again.”
He reached for her hand. “Do you miss London? Shall we make another trip there for the end of the Season?”
She shook her head. “No. I am truly not sorry to have left all of that behind. I find I prefer our village life. And we have the school to think of.”
The pad of his thumb rubbed tiny circles on the sensitive flesh on the inside of her wrist. She licked her lips, making him wish the carriage would speed up.
“I am looking forward to holding you in my arms as we waltz around the room.”
“Is the waltz allowed? When I was a girl attending assembly dances in Donridge Heath the waltz had not yet been introduced. And it was a good thing since the matrons were very strict about the rules.”
The memories of trying so hard to ignore Abigail at those gatherings flooded back. She had been lovely even as a young miss, and it had saddened him to see the hurt in her eyes when he’d brushed off her unsophisticated attempts to garner his attention. In addition to the unwritten rule of avoiding one’s best friend’s sister, the difference in their stations had necessitated his actions. Never would he have guessed she would end up his wife. Life certainly took one down paths never imagined.
“We are quite sophisticated here, you know.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Then I look forward to it even more.”
Pulling her onto his lap, he licked the outside of her ear and murmured, “Not as much as I look forward to our arrival home.” If the coach didn’t hurry, he would scandalize his wife by taking her right here in a moving carriage. Although, based on her past actions, perhaps she would not be so scandalized, after all.
…
Like all country assemblies, the young women of Addysby End had spared no effort in presenting their best visage. Hair was arranged in artful displays of curls, beads, and feathers. Some older gowns had been refreshed by added ribbons and ruffles. Many of the young girls from more prosperous families were attired in new gowns of the latest fashions and colors. Gentlemen wore their evening clothes with style and sophistication. The only difference between the assembly and a London ballroom was the lack of pretense.
Here, it was obvious everyone had come for a good time. In London, it was all about seeing and being seen, or a fear that if one did not attend a function it would be assumed one had not been invited. Which allowed for much gossip in the days that followed.
Abigail’s heart lightened at the lovely decorations the ladies of the town had provided. A table along the wall held a punch bowl and plates with thin slices of cake. A group of musicians had gathered in one corner, tuning up instruments. The buzz and laughter as more people arrived gave the room a sense of holiday.
They’d barely made their way across the room, stopping to greet various guests when Lady Durham approached them, her hands outstretched. “My dears, it is so good to see you. It has been ages.” In the way of the ton, she took Abigail’s hands and air-kissed her cheek.
She beamed at Joseph as he took her hand and kissed it. “My lady, it is a pleasure, as always.”
“Isn’t it exciting to have such a turnout in our little village?” She turned to Abigail. “I am sure this is nothing like you are used to. After several Seasons in London, you no doubt view our meager efforts as pitiful. How many Seasons was it you remained unmarried?”
Abigail bit her lip to keep from laughing, amused that the woman seemed to feel sorry for her. Had Abigail kept count of all the gentlemen whom she’d turned down over the past few years, they could fill half the assembly room. “Three, actually.”
Lady Durham patted her hand. “Well, I’m sure it was quite a relief when Mr.Fox rescued you from all of that.”
Joseph cleared his throat as Abigail’s eyebrows rose. Before she could respond, he turned to her. “Sweetheart
, would you honor me with a dance?”
“Oh, how quaint. Husband and wife dancing together.” Lady Durham tittered and waved her hand toward the dance floor as they both regarded her. “Have a good time. I shall circulate for a while.”
“That was strange,” Abigail said as she settled her hand on Joseph’s shoulder.
“She means well. I’m sure she doesn’t realize how her words sound to others.”
“Most likely.” They parted as the dance began, and continued to move smoothly through the steps.
…
Edith reined in her anger as she circulated through the ballroom, nodding and smiling. Every time she saw the looks that passed between Joseph and Lady Abigail, it took all of her self-control to not screech like a fishwife and stomp her foot. Not the impression she’d striven for since she’d left the hell-hole of her previous life behind.
Her attention was taken by a tall gentleman entering the assembly room. A very interesting man with a certain air about him. Someone she had never seen before. Not one to be considered handsome, nevertheless, the way he wore his clothes and carried himself attracted her. His manner spoke of power and money. An older woman clung to his arm as they slowly made their way along the line of those who had forfeited the dance floor in lieu of conversation.
Without seeming to rush, Edith wended her way through the crowd, her eyes never leaving her prey. The gentleman seemed affable, conversing with anyone who approached him. The elderly woman’s eyes flashed, taking in all around her, as if she hadn’t been out in society for quite some time.
Edith neared the couple and curtsied. “Good evening. I am Lady Durham, and may I wish you welcome to our little gathering.”
The gentleman took her hand and kissed it. “My lady, it is a pleasure. Viscount Sterling at your service, and may I present my great-aunt, Lady Blunden?”
“My lady,” Edith curtsied once more. “I hope you are enjoying yourself.”
“It has been years, my dear, since I have attended one of these events. I found it necessary to drag my nephew from London to attend me. Now isn’t that a terrible predicament to be in, I ask you?”
The Lady's Disgrace Page 14
