Page 24 of The Marchioness of his Desire
She looked around in astonishment to see Edward hurrying toward her, a pained expression upon his face. It was clear that he had been drinking, and she took a deep breath, expecting him once again to beg that she take him back.
“What is it, Edward?” her uncle growled, but Rebecca stayed his hand.
“Uncle, let him speak. I owe him that much,” she whispered as Edward came to stand before them.
“I just wanted to wish you well on your wedding day and to … well, to hope that the two of us might still be friends. I realize it is difficult, but you have meant so much to me, and I would hate to lose that bond of affection between us. I hope you will accept my olive branch?” he said, and Rebecca smiled.
“You are too kind, sir, for I know that I have hurt you in my decision. But yes, with pleasure, I should be glad to keep your acquaintance,” she replied, and he bowed, bringing out a posy of flowers from behind his back and presenting them to her.
“A small token of my esteem,” he said, and she blushed as he handed them to her, before bowing once again and hurrying off along the street.
“Quite extraordinary,” her uncle said, shaking his head, “but come along, we shall be late otherwise.”
As they drove through the streets, Rebecca could not help but puzzle over Edward’s generosity. She had expected never to see him again, but the rage, the pleading and the imploring he had subjected her to earlier was now replaced with an uncanny friendliness as though she had merely refused an invitation to dinner or a picnic, rather than a marriage.
“Forget him,” Catherine said as they arrived at St. George’s Cathedral where the wedding was to take place. “He is only playing games with you.”
Rebecca wondered if that were true, but there was little time to think about it, for the church bells were already ringing out to announce the coming ceremony. It seemed as though half the tonhad turned out to witness the marriage, and there was much waving and congratulatory calls as she made her way to the door of the church, where the Dean was waiting to greet her.
“Lady Rebecca, Lord Somerset is already here and waiting,” he said as the organ struck up its notes, and Rebecca took a deep breath.
“Then get on with it, man,” her uncle growled, and the Rector bowed.
“As you wish, your Lordship,” he said, and with no further time to think, Rebecca followed him inside the chapel, her future awaiting.
* * *
The shower of confetti fell upon them as Rebecca and Nicholas stepped from the church door. There was to be no lavish party or reception, for they were to take a carriage to Nicholas’ manor, along with Laura who was waiting by the church door.
“Congratulations, and God bless you,” one of the onlookers called out, and Rebecca smiled, glancing up at Nicholas, who seemed somewhat more forced in his joviality.
Indeed, the entire ceremony had seemed something of a trial to him, and his vows were pronounced with little joy, quite the opposite, in fact. When he kissed her, it had felt stiff and formal, quite different from the passions aroused between them in the library, and Rebecca had wondered just how much of a convenience the wedding was to be.
“The house will feel quite empty now. I suppose you are taking Lyddie with you too?” her uncle asked as she and Nicholas climbed into the waiting carriage.
“She has always been my maid, uncle, and will continue to be so,” Rebecca replied, for if there was one silver lining in all of this, it was the fact that her uncle’s home would never again be hers.
“Come along, Laura. Let me lift you in,” Nicholas said as he helped Rebecca’s sister into the carriage and climbed in beside them.
“We shall call upon you very soon,” Catherine called out as she and Samantha waved.
Rebecca smiled, waving back, and throwing the two posies she held in her hand to her friends, who caught them with a squeal of delight.
“Why did you have two posies?” Nicholas asked as the carriage drove away.
“One was given to me by … Edward,” Rebecca said, blushing, as Nicholas frowned.
“But why would he give you flowers? Did he speak with you?” he asked, and Rebecca could sense the jealousy in his voice.
“He met us as we were coming to church; he merely wanted to wish me well and to assure me of his continuing friendship,” she replied.
Rebecca had not told Nicholas of the manner in which Edward had begged her to reconsider. She had felt terribly guilty in rejecting him, but she had known it was for the best, reminding herself that she had never loved him, despite his evident feelings for her. Nicholas made no reply, gazing out of the carriage window instead as they bumped and jolted their way through the streets.
“Look, Rebecca, what a beautiful house,” Laura said as they pulled up outside an elegant townhouse, ivy growing up its façade and a large, highly polished front door at the top of a flight of steps open to welcome them.
“It is impressive,” Rebecca said, glancing over at Nicholas, who seemed to show little interest in what lay before them.
“Will I have my own bedroom?” Laura asked, and Rebecca nodded.
