Page 17 of The Marchioness of his Desire
“Why, I never …” he gasped as Rebecca pulled up her dress, and Nicholas tried to conceal her modesty by standing in front of her.
“You must forgive us, your Lordship,” Nicholas said, but their host now looked on angrily, before turning to his guests.
“There is nothing to see here. Nothing at all. Let me show you now the music room. I made a gift to Lady Sefton of a particularly fine pianoforte on the occasion of her birthday last year. Let me show it to you,” he said, scowling at Rebecca and Nicholas, before ushering the guests out of the room
The other guests gave disapproving looks too, exclaiming in horror and disgust to one another behind their fans, and Rebecca knew with certainty that what had been observed would soon become common knowledge. What would Edward say? What would her uncle do? She glanced up at Nicholas, who shook his head and turned away, stumbling to catch his balance as he slumped down into one of the chairs.
“I am sorry, Becks, truly I am,” he said, and Rebecca sighed.
“Perhaps the past is best left where it belongs,” she replied, hanging her head in shame.
* * *
“Foolish gal, foolish gal” her uncle cried, for perhaps the tenth time that night.
He was pacing up and down the hallway, a carriage having returned them home, and Edward departed for his lodgings without so much as a word to Rebecca. It had taken but a few moments for the assignation in the library to be revealed and talk amongst the guests had been of nothing else.
“What were you thinking?” Catherine had hissed as Rebecca’s uncle had dragged her away.
The shock of it had caused Lady Sefton to take to a chaise lounge in the drawing room, where smelling salts were applied, and the evening’s merriment had abruptly come to an end. Nicholas had slipped away, followed by his friend, Mr. Bennet, and Rebecca had found herself at her uncle’s mercy, a mercy which was entirely unforgiving.
“I am sorry, uncle. I do not know what came over me,” Rebecca said, as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Lust, gal, pure and simple lust. How could you disgrace me in such a way? After all I have done for you, after all I have sought to provide for you. I am disgusted,” he said, raising his hand to her.
“No!” shouted Laura, who was standing on the stairs, clutching her doll Isobel in her arms.
“Oh, Laura, please get back to bed,” Rebecca cried as her uncle lowered his hand and turned to Rebecca’s sister angrily.
“Away with you, Laura, back to bed. This matter does not concern you, though it will certainly damage you,” he said, and Rebecca took hold of Laura’s hand and hurried her up the stairs.
“What does he mean? What has happened?” Laura asked, looking up at Rebecca with wide eyes.
“It is nothing for you to worry about. There was … an incident this evening,” she replied as they came to the top of the stairs, and Rebecca hurried her sister back into her bedroom.
“But we are escaping, are we not?” Laura asked, and Rebecca knelt in front of her and put her arms around her.
She loved her sister more than anything else in all the world and had pledged only to keep her safe. That promise still held, and Rebecca was determined to see it fulfilled.
“We are, though it may take a little longer than we hoped. Do not despair. All will be well in the end. I promise,” she said, and she tucked Laura up in bed, blowing out the candle on the bedside table, which her sister had lit when she heard the commotion in the hallway.
Outside, on the landing, Rebecca closed her sister’s door, leant against it with a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she found Lyddie standing in front of her, a candle in her hand and a smile on her face.
“Whatever tis’ that has happened, my Lady, I am sure tis’ nae that bad,” she said, holding out her hand to Rebecca, who clasped it and began to weep.
She had held back the tears for as long as she could, but now they flowed freely as she put her arms around Lyddie and sobbed. The maid was the closest thing to a mother she had, and how she wished her mother were there now to comfort her. She would have known just what to do, what to say, and how to make everything better.
“It is a scandal, Lyddie, a scandal beyond anything I have faced before. Nicholas was there tonight. I saw him just as the announcement of my betrothal to Edward was made. The sight took me back to the past and all that we had shared,” Rebecca said as the maid led her to her chambers.
“Tis’ nay scandal to see a love from the past,” Lyddie replied, and Rebecca shook her head.
“But it is a scandal to kiss him and to be caught by one’s hosts in the very act. The whole of London will know by tomorrow. My uncle is furious, and he is right to be so. I have not spoken to Edward, and I am certain he will not wish to speak to me,” she said, sitting down at the dressing table and gazing at herself in the mirror.
Earlier that evening, when Lyddie had helped her with her pearls and hair clips, the thought of marrying Edward had at least presented the possibility of escape. But the sight of Nicholas had changed that thought into one of abject sorrow. Now, it seemed she would have neither happiness nor escape, for how could she possibly recover from the scandal enacted that evening? Her powder had run with her tears, her dress disheveled from her uncle’s rough treatment, and she gazed at herself in the mirror wondering if ever a happy gaze would be returned.
“Scandal lasts as long as there is nay further scandal to replace it, my Lady. What is today’s gossip, will soon become yesterday’s news. There will be a new scandal next week, and we all know that yer uncle’s bark is worse than his bite,” Lyddie said, as she removed the hair clips from Rebecca’s hair.
“But that will not change Edward’s mind. He will not want a fallen woman as his wife. I kissed Nicholas on the very night that our betrothal was announced,” Rebecca replied, and Lyddie paused.
