Page 11 of The Marchioness of his Desire
Catherine laughed and pulled Rebecca to her feet. “You shall consider it now, then, dear girl. Do you not know that a woman in full knowledge of her own attributes and worth is more than a match for any mere man?”
Lady Samantha stood also and drew Rebecca to stand before one of the several looking glasses leaned against a wall. “Catherine is correct, Rebecca. Since you must enter into marriage, you need to gain a full understanding of the weapons you have at your disposal.”
“Weapons?” Rebecca frowned. “‘Tis marriage, not battle.”
Lady Samantha grinned. “Oh, my dear. That is where you err. ‘Tis most certainly a battle. One which you must win.”
Catherine, meanwhile, had removed Rebecca’s wrap and turned her sideways to the glass. The three friends viewed the profile reflected there.
“Well, you have nice large breasts, for one thing.” Catherine patted her own somewhat smaller chest. “Men tend to be quite obsessed by breasts.”
Rebecca laughed. “Oh, Cat, however could you know that?”
Catherine grinned and raised her brows. “Four brothers. Must I say more?”
“No.” Lady Samantha laughed and turned Rebecca so her back was to the glass.
Rebecca strained to see back over her shoulder.
“Straight back, rounded posterior …” Lady Samantha said before lifting the hem of Rebecca’s skirt, “and, as I remembered, pretty trim ankles. Enough to set any man’s blood to boil.”
Giggles erupted as Rebecca batted her friends away and returned to her chair.
“But in all earnestness, Rebecca,” Catherine was first to regain her composure, “you have to use what you have to get what you want.”
“She is right. You may not love Mr. Johnson, but since he is the best option to get you out of your uncle’s home, you should take him.” Lady Samantha agreed. “That does not mean, though, that you allow him to rule over you. You are smart, Rebecca, and beautiful and strong.Youmust gain the upper hand and control the relationship. Use everything – and I meaneverything– to live the life you want in your marriage.”
“And,” Catherine continued, “Since he already seems to dote on you, you should have no problems.”
Rebecca swallowed. She closed her eyes and a vision of Nicholas, tall and proud intruded upon her. She had to banish him from her thoughts. There was no other way. He was in her past, and there he must remain. She could not allow thoughts of him to keep her from her future.
She opened her eyes and nodded her head. “I understand. Thank you.” She stood and took their hands. “Now, will you come with me while I get Edward to make his damned offer?”
The trio laughed as they left the retiring room and headed into battle.
* * *
“There you are, my love,” Edward met them at the entrance to the ballroom. He pulled Rebecca’s hand under his elbow and rested her fingers on his forearm. “I have been waiting for you.” He nodded at Lady Samantha and Catherine. “Ladies.”
“I beg your pardon, Edward. Miss Ferguson, Lady Samantha, and I needed to … mend a tear in the hem of my dress. It took a little longer than we thought it would. I trust you have not missed me long?”
“It seemed an eternity, my dear Lady Rebecca. I wish you had told me your intentions.” He pulled her closer to him and covered her fingers with his other hand. “I am finding, my dear, that I am of a somewhat jealous disposition.”
Rebecca glanced behind her. Lady Samantha smiled, and Catherine nodded encouragingly. Now was her moment.
Rebecca stopped walking and turned to him. “I beg your pardon? Of what, pray, have you to be jealous? There is no formal understanding between us, Edward, despite how often your conversation turns to the topic.”
He bowed his head. “You are right, my lady. I …” He gulped, and the color drained from his face.
Rebecca held her breath.
“Lady Rebecca, would you do me the great honor of accepting my hand in marriage.”
Rebecca laughed. He had spat the words out so quickly she had barely understood them.
Edward grew even paler. “My lady?”
Rebecca took inventory of him, standing there in front of her. She had never truly considered his physical attributes before. He was tall and possessed a handsome face. Broad shoulders, manly chest, narrow waist, and his legs seemed quite fit beneath the tightness of his breeches. Physically, she supposed, he was quite attractive. And, despite herself, she did enjoy their verbal sparring. He had proven himself attentive – kind even. And he would remove her from Uncle Roland’s grasp.
