Page 10 of The Marchioness of his Desire
“Very well, Edward. Please escort me to my friends.”
“With pleasure, my lady.” He held out his arm, and she took it.
Edward steered her confidently through the knots of people around the perimeter of the room and soon brought her to the group surrounding her friends. He bowed. “I shall leave you here, my lady. I have seen a few friends across the room with whom I wish to speak. I beg you remember our next dance.”
“Thank you. I shall remember.” She leaned closer to him. “I also remember that you have yet to disclose your secret, Mr. Johnson. Perhaps you will be so good as to recall it when we dance.”
He smiled. “Perhaps I shall, my lady, with the proper encouragement, of course.” With a final bow, he walked away. Rebecca followed his progress across the room with her eyes.
She was perplexed. His behavior both attracted and repelled her. He had been courting her unofficially over the past year but had made no offer. What was he waiting for? And, more to the point, how would she respond once he did offer? She desperately needed to remove both herself and Laura from Uncle Roland’s household.
If only Nicholas had not …
“Lady Rebecca!”
Catherine pushed through the crowd of admirers to reach Rebecca’s side. She took her hand. “Oh, I am so happy to see you!”
Rebecca grasped Catherine’s hand. “And I you! Where have you been?”
Catherine smiled, her eyes twinkling. “We have been having adventures! But come, I want to hear everything you can tell me about Mr. Johnson.” She turned back toward the group of young men. “Come along, Samantha. Leave your playthings be. We have more important occupations right now.”
Rebecca heard Lady Samantha’s tinkling laugh from the midst of the group.
“Leave be now, gentlemen. I am not dancing right now. You know we ladies must have our téte-a-téte. I do promise, however, to dance with two – or perhaps three – of you upon my return to the floor.”
Rebecca laughed as Lady Samantha pushed her way through the waiting gentlemen, shoving them aside with her dainty gloved hand. Samantha was small of stature, but no one could deny her bold, decisive character. She reached the two girls and wrapped her arms about their waists.
“Now, my dears, off to the retiring room, methinks. You, Rebecca, have many questions to answer.” Lady Samantha waggled her eyebrows at Rebecca as the three hurried from the ballroom.
“Thank God you are here.” Rebecca slumped in a most unladylike fashion into the nearest chair once they entered the retiring room.
Catherine filled a glass with water from a carafe on the nearby bureau. “Here, darling. Have a drink. Although, you could probably do with something a mite stronger, I think, hmm?”
“Hush, Cat. Let her breathe.” Lady Samantha slapped playfully at Catherine’s wrist. “Now, tell us, Rebecca. What on earth has you in such a state?”
Rebecca sipped the cool water. These two women knew her better than anyone else could ever know her. They had conquered the rigors of a most demanding finishing school together, pledging undying friendship, and, in their forward-thinking youthful days, had promised one another they would never marry – disdaining the institution forced upon women in order to maintain respectability and support in the face of Society.
Now, she had to break that promise.
“I greatly fear Edward is going to offer for me tonight.” Rebecca felt tears welling in her eyes. “And I shall be forced to accept. I shall have to break my promise to you both.”
“Oh, pet!” Lady Samantha sat next to her, draping an arm across Rebecca’s shoulders. “Give it no thought. We know your situation. You must not remain under your uncle’s roof.”
“No, nor should your sister,” Catherine agreed. She sank to her knees before the other two. “Blast this damn Society, anyway. Why should you not inherit your father’s estate, at the very least? As it is, you must marry in order to escape. If only your friend, Lord Somerset, had not played so false.Heis the perfect match for you, Rebecca.”
“Hush, Cat! Somerset is out of the question as you well know.” Lady Samantha patted Rebecca’s hand. “Now tell us, what makes you hesitate with Mr. Johnson? He is handsome enough.”
“Yes, and he is a Lieutenant in the Navy. Second son of a viscount. Educated. Deliciously long legs and a tight posterior.” Catherine ticked Edward’s assets off on her fingers.
A laugh burst from Rebecca’s throat, causing her to spew water over both her friends and down the front of her gown. “Stop, Cat! You are too crude!”
“Why?” Cat smiled. “The physical part of a marriage can be most … pleasurable … or so I hear, in any case. What harm if one admires the physical attributes of one’s partner? Make no mistake – Mr. Johnson has most assuredly taken note of yours.”
Heat raced up Rebecca’s neck and into her face. “What do you mean? You think …”
“What Cat is trying to say is that Mr. Johnson must find you physically attractive. After all, what is there to dislike in your appearance?”
Rebecca colored even more deeply. “Well, I … to be honest, I cannot answer that question. I have never considered it before.”
