Page 2 of The Marchioness of his Desire
“You saved me, Nicky.” She drew a deep, ragged breath as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Aw, don’t go being a little girl, Becks!” He sat down awkwardly beside her and draped his arm across her bowed shoulders. “C’mon, now. Buck up.”
She sniffled and scrubbed her face briskly. “I … I am sorry, Nicky. ‘Tis just that I … I hate that old bull! And if you had not stopped me, I could be … I would be….”
“Now, I say that is enough, Lady Rebecca. Come along.” He stood quickly and pulled her up beside him. “We still have to get to the lake.”
“I… I do not think I want to go to the lake today, after all, Nicky.” Her breath wobbled a little as she inhaled. She was feeling steadier now but still not quite herself.
“No? Very well, then.” He looked around. “What say you to a turn on the swing?”
She looked at him. “Oh, Nicky, could we? Are you sure?” They did not venture often to the swing. It was deep in the woods at the back of her father’s land.
“I do not see why we should not. Come along, then.” He grabbed her right hand in his and began to thread his way through the copse as Rebecca followed behind.
* * *
They spent a glorious two hours in the woods. Nicky pushed her on the ancient branch swing they had found several years ago. She pulled the back of her skirt forward and up between her legs, tucking it firmly into her waistband and scampered up the trees after him. He was always a little bit ahead of her, dropping twigs and leaves down on her as he laughed. They found obliging sticks on the ground and used them as flashing sabres, battling round about the clearing and up and down the path, and they had laughed. Nicky had always been able to make her laugh. They sat together on the swing, catching their breath and drawing circles in the dirt with their boots. Nicholas pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. He looked at her and gave her his lopsided grin.
“Time to go, Becks. Luncheon soon, and I need to get back to the schoolroom before my mother learns I have been out.”
Rebecca sighed, then stamped out the circles she had made with her foot.
“Very well, but promise that you will come back tomorrow.”
“I cannot promise you that, Rebecca.” He stood up quickly, setting the swing spinning.
Rebecca dragged her feet on the ground to slow the spin even as Nicholas grasped the ropes suspending the branch and steadied the swing. She jumped off and walked past him.
“What do you mean, Nicky? Are you traveling to London again?”
“No, not London, Becks. Further away, I fear.” Nicholas reached her side and turned her to face him. The serious expression on his face sent a cold lump to her stomach.
“I have to go away, Becks. To school, you know.” He looked away, biting his lips. “They are sending me to Eton.”
“Eton? But …”
“Shh, now. You know I am to be Duke one day. And a duke must be educated … know the right people … learn how to …” he paused and turned his back to her, clenching his fists.
She stood silent and listened as he took several deep breaths. After an age, he turned back to her.
“Anyway … I shall be leaving in the early morning, but I need you to do something for me, Becks.”
She snatched his hand, holding it tightly between both of hers. “Do not leave, Nicky. I … I will be so sad.”
He smiled at her and dug in his pocket with his free hand. “I know you will, Rebecca. So will I … but we shall both make new friends, and we shall still see each other when I come home for holidays.”
“I will not make other friends, Nicky. You are my friend. My very best friend.” She dropped his hand and turned away.
“We will still be friends, Rebecca. I promise. Here.” He thrust something into her hand and closed his fingers over hers. “Here is the token I give in pledge of our friendship.”
She opened her fist and gasped. “But … but this is your pocket watch.” She looked up at him.
“So, it is. My grandmother gave it to me after my grandfather died. It was special to him, and he wanted me to have it. See the painting of the lady on the back? My Grandfather brought this back from Paris.”
Rebecca traced her finger over the miniature painting. “She is beautiful. Who is she?”
Nicholas laughed and grabbed her hand, leading her away from the clearing. “She is Madame de Pompadour, and that is all I shall tell you. You must work hard on your lessons and learn more about her for yourself while I am away.”
