Rescued by the Duke: Delicate Hearts Book 2 by Mayfair Catherine

Author:Mayfair, Catherine [Mayfair, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-09-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

he dinner Abigail ate with her new husband the first night in Brighton was one she would remember for years to come. They had been placed at a table with another couple, a Mr. And Mrs. Williamson from Newcastle in the North who informed Abigail and Richard that they had come to Brighten to celebrate forty years of marriage.

“Forty long years,” Mrs. Williamson whispered to Abigail, who could not help but giggle.

“What was that, my dear?” Mr. Williamson asked.

His wife gave him a small smile. “Nothing, dear.”

In a tiny corner of the dining room sat three musicians, each with a stringed instrument from which arose the most beautiful of music to complement the meal and conversation.

And the meal! Abigail had never had anything so wonderful in her life! The first course consisted of the most decadent soup she had ever eaten—a creamy seafood chowder with bits of potato and peas—followed by tender glazed lamb chops. For dessert, she was treated with a peach compote. By the end of the meal, she was as stuffed as the partridge Mr. Williamson had ordered for his main course.

“I believe I am off to bed,” Mr. Williamson said as he pushed his chair back. “I’m getting much too old for late nights in Brighton. Wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

His wife stifled a yawn before laughing. “I suppose that is answer enough for us all.”

Once the Williamsons were gone, Richard sat back in his seat and patted his stomach. “That was heavenly,” he said with a sated smile. Then he glanced toward the window. “I wish that rain had not come in.”

Abigail could not agree more. They had been forced to cut short their exploration when heavy clouds rolled in, bringing with them heavy rains. They had been lucky enough to make it back to the hotel just as the downpour began, leaving them only slightly wet rather than drenched if they had waited even one minute more to return. Richard had promised Abigail they would resume their excursion the following day, if the good weather returned, that is.

The excitement Richard had expressed upon arriving at the hidden beach had not waned as he led her to other hidden treasures in the area. A cave he informed her filled with water when the tide came in. A trail once used by smugglers to bring in goods from France.

“I’d bet my left shoe it still is used,” he had said with bright eyes that reminded Abigail of a young boy imagining great tales of pirates and adventure.

She had enjoyed herself, for the most part, but she continued to fret over the amount of love he showed to her. Guilt ate at her as she thought on the kiss they had shared on the beach, an unfamiliar heat rushing through her when their lips had met and their bodies had pressed together. However, from what little she knew of intimacy between a man and a woman, much of what occurred happened on a physical level. Yet,

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