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keeping the night dampness from the room.
    “Please excuse me, I will send in Mrs. Weston.”
    Abigail moved toward the fireplace extending her hands. Within minutes, the innkeeper’s wife arrived and escorted her to the privy.
    The two women departed, and Joseph tamped down the nervous twitches in his stomach. He wanted everything to be perfect for her. There was no doubt any feelings Abigail had for him stemmed from their childhood. If in the future, she ever felt anything more, he would consider it a blessing. To have her for his wife was beyond anything of which he’d ever dreamed. As much as he’d like to beat Redgrave to a pulp for what he’d done to Abigail, he should send the man a thank you note. Abigail was now his.
    Abigail returned to the private dining room the same time the innkeeper was delivering a drink to Joseph.
    “I asked for tea to be sent.” He said as he held her chair.
    “Thank you. I think I need that more than I do food, at this point.” She studied him for a moment. “Joseph, may I ask you something?”
    “Of course.”
    “You have known me and my family for many years.”
    He nodded as he took a sip of his brandy. Once again he was having a difficult time concentrating on her words. All he saw where those plump, ripe lips moving. His groin tightened as his thoughts drifted toward the bedrooms upstairs where he soon would be alone with his wife to nibble on those soft lips, and then proceed south from there…
    “You must remember my mother organizing games for the village children. Do you recall how she used to rescue puppies and lead us all in snowball fights?”
    He pulled himself back from his lascivious thoughts and replayed her question in his mind, grinning at the picture of the dowager duchess behaving in a most un-duchess like manner many times over the years. It was one of the reasons he’d always been so comfortable at Manchester Manor. Never did anyone make him feel as though he was beneath them and had no right to be there. He and Drake had been friends throughout their childhood.
    Abigail nodded her thanks to the innkeeper who placed a tea pot, cup and saucer in front of her.
    Before she was able to pick up the conversation again, the innkeeper’s wife arrived with bowls of fragrant stew, warm fresh bread and butter. Her stomach gave a very unladylike growl as the enticing smells wafted in the air. “Oh, this looks wonderful!”
    Mrs. Weston blushed as she placed a dish of steaming vegetables on the table. “Thank you, milady.”
    Once the innkeeper and his wife withdrew from the room, Abigail tasted her stew and murmured her delight. “This is delicious.”
    Those rich lips covered her spoon in a way that had his mouth drying up. He cleared his throat, pulling his gaze way from the sight. “I’ve always found their fare to be tasty. But simple.”
    “That is what I want to speak with you about.” Abigail placed her spoon alongside her bowl. “Joseph, you know the sort of family I come from, and that my brother married a woman who most of the ton perceived as unsuitable.”
    “Now, wait just a minute. Her Grace is a wonderful—”
    “I know, I know.” She waved her hand. “I was not disparaging my sister-in-law. In fact, I love her dearly and am thrilled beyond imagining she is a part of my family. I merely wanted to point that out to you, because I get the feeling you assume whatever life you enjoy, and have offered to me, is somehow lacking. That I will be unhappy married to a rector.”
    “That is not exactly true—”
    “Yes, it is. You keep apologizing. For your coach, the inn, the food. Heavens, have I ever given you the impression that I needed luxury to survive?”
    Joseph used his index finger to draw around the rim of his glass, avoiding her gaze. “No. Neither you, nor any member of your family has ever given me that impression. I apologize. You no doubt think I am an idiot.”
    “No. That isn’t what I think. I just wanted to get that out of