Page 13 of The Marchioness of his Desire
Ian bowed. “Welcome, Mr. Bennet. I do hope you shall enjoy yourself this evening. Oh, oh, dear.” Lady Sefton turned back to Nicholas.
“Excuse me, please. My husband requires my assistance with some type of … disturbance yonder.” Nicholas and Ian bowed as she rushed off to join her husband across the ballroom.
“Well! I must say, I have never been treated so dismissively.” The Duchess sniffed and clutched Nicholas’ arm even more tightly.
“I dare say not, Mother, but certainly there must be a reason. Lord and Lady Sefton are not newcomers to the ton, you know.” Nicholas patted his mother’s hand as they stepped into the room.
A small knot of people milled about in the area directly across from the entry. The orchestra was not playing, and the hum of dozens of conversations filled the air. He caught snippets of voices but not enough to determine the problem.
“Here, Mother.” Nicholas shifted her clutching hand to Ian’s arm and pointed them toward the Dowager chairs along the side of the room. “Let Ian assist you to a chair and fetch you something to drink.”
He looked up at his friend, who nodded assent.
“I shall see what has happened and if I may be of any assistance to our hosts.” With that he strode swiftly toward the group gathered near the doors to the garden.
As he approached, the group broke apart, and Lord Sefton stepped to the center of the room.
“My lords and ladies, may I have your attention, please.”
A hush fell over the crowd at Lord Sefton’s booming request.
Well now, here was something one did not see at the normal ton event, unless some new form of entertainment had been adopted in his absence. Nicholas looked back toward Ian and raised his brows.
Ian, in the process of handing the duchess her libation, looked up, saw Nicholas’ questioning glance, and shook his head.
“My lords. My ladies.” The portly earl bowed and brought forward a couple who had been standing slightly behind him.
Nicholas’ eyes narrowed as he focused on the man and woman standing with the earl.
“It is an auspicious evening for Sefton House. It gives me great pleasure to announce the betrothal of the honorable Mr. Edward Johnson and the lovely Lady Rebecca Paddington.”
Polite clapping ensued interspersed with a few drunken “huzzahs.”
Nicholas fixed his eyes on Rebecca’s face. She was pale and looked to be somewhat anxious but smiled as that cur Johnson took her hand and raised it to his lips.
The blood boiled in his veins as Nicholas clenched his fists and stepped toward the couple. Ian grabbed his arm from behind just as Johnson pulled Rebecca into an embrace and kissed her soundly.
“No!” The syllable burst from his throat of its own accord.
“Hush, Nicholas! ‘Tis done. We were too late.” Ian still gripped Nicholas’ arm.
That sealed it. He was too late. Rebecca — his Becks — stood there smiling at the throng moving to greet the ton’s newest nine days’ wonder.
Chapter Four
“Inshu … inshup …” Nicholas scrubbed his forehead. He could not get the word out properly.
“Insupportable?” Ian grinned. “I suspect, my friend, that you have gone beyond the measure of cups and are now into your tuns.”
Damned upstart. Always had to put his word in. Still, he was a good friend. Not like …
Nicholas snatched another drink from the tray of a passing footman. He had lost the ability to taste the liquids burning down his throat an hour past, but that mattered not.
In the hours since Sefton’s announcement, Nicholas had committed himself to watching Rebecca. He sat — perhaps slumped — in a chair near the garden doors that secured him a clear view of the entire room. His eyes followed her movements as she walked from one side of the room to the other, Johnson always in tow.
Rebecca and Johnson had only danced with each other. Bile rose in his throat as he watched them. He shook his head and quaffed another drink to wash it down.
How she could agree to marry Johnson defied understanding. She must have been forced to it, and if that were the case, he would be able to tell. Knowing her as well as he did had to give him some claim to her welfare, after all.
