Page 31 of The Marchioness of his Desire
They had made their excuses after dinner and come up to bed, though Nicholas had joined Rebecca in her chambers, the two of them grateful to finally be alone. They endured Nicholas’ mother’s opinions throughout the meal and an ever-constant stream of chastisements and criticisms. She could find fault with anything, and both Rebecca and Nicholas had grown tired of her endless rants, of which the two of them were the central subject.
“That is my mother, and she will not change. I should have been firmer and told her to remain at Somerset House. There is no indication of when she will leave, or if she will ever leave,” he said, shaking his head.
“And then you will leave me with her to go off to the colonies, and that will be a sad fate,” Rebecca replied.
Despite telling herself the contrary, Rebecca had not failed to be poisoned by certain suggestions made by her mother-in-law. She knew of Nicholas’ reputation, just as all the tonknew of it, and she knew too that age old truth that if a man’s passions could be aroused with you, then they could be aroused against you too. Duchess Sinclair was right; their marriage had come about as a result of a scandalous infidelity, one which she was only too certain Nicholas might repeat, despite his protests to the contrary. She loved him, but she did not yet trust him, and the thought of his leaving her for far off lands filled her with dread.
“There are no arrangements yet, Rebecca, and I promise that I will not leave you alone with her,” he said, coming to put his arms around her.
She looked up at him and smiled, enjoying the sensation of being alone with him and feeling his protective embrace. He leaned down and kissed her, their lips meeting softly together as he pulled her closer toward him.
“I love you,” she whispered as their lips parted.
“And I will not leave you alone, I promise,” he replied, his hand running up the small of her back as she loosened the girdle of his dressing gown, and he began to kiss her once more, their passions aroused.
She ran her hand over his chest and down the wispy trail of hair over his stomach, feeling him tense as the lightness of her touch aroused him. He was kissing her upon the neck now, his hand playing across her breast, as she ran her hand along his length, longing to feel that sensation again. His lips now circled her breasts, his hand playing across her leg, searching her out, and she gasped at that first touch, as he pressed himself against her.
“Nicholas!” a cry came from outside in the corridor, and a sharp rapping upon the door indicated the presence of his mother.
He sighed as Rebecca adjusted her dress, and he replaced his dressing gown before Rebecca went to the door and unlocked it.
“Your Grace?” she said, with a questioning look upon her face.
“Nicholas,” his mother said, pushing past Rebecca into the room, “I went to your chambers, and you were not there.”
“That is because I was here, mother,” he replied, with some exasperation.
“And I was sitting in the drawing room all alone. Why did you not come and take coffee with me? Sneaking off like this; it is quite ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.
“Mother, Rebecca and I wished to be alone a while,” he said, blushing under her gaze.
“What nonsense. Come along, the both of you. I am lonely and wish for company. I did not come here to be shut away as I am at Somerset House. You will come to the drawing room, and we shall discuss the plans for the gardens. You would like that, would you not, Rebecca?” she said, and Rebecca had little choice but to nod and agree.
“She knows precisely what she is doing,” Nicholas hissed, as the two of them followed his mother downstairs.
“Will we ever have our peace?” Rebecca asked, though the answer seemed clear.
Chapter Twelve
Rebecca and Nicholas continued to be thwarted in their desire to spend time alone. It seemed that his mother knew their intentions precisely and was determined to prevent both the consummation of their marriage and any attempt on their part to deepen their relationship.
She would appear suddenly in a room without knocking or disturb them late in the evening, just as the throes of passion were aroused. She insisted upon taking meals with them and on engaging in long, protracted conversations, in which the principal topics were her own interests. In short, she was tiresome, and Rebecca wished she had listened to Nicholas and stood firm against her mother-in-law’s insistencies.
It was now almost two weeks since Duchess Sinclair had come to live with them, and Rebecca had found herself alone in the library, grateful for a moment of peace amidst the continuing redecoration and her mother-in-law’s constant companionship. She had taken down a book from one of the shelves and was sitting by the window, which was open, reading a poem and losing herself in the romantic fantasy of the words.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but you have a caller,” Mrs. Thrip said, appearing in the doorway and startling Rebecca, who looked up in surprise.
Catherine and Samantha had visited her only yesterday and had promised to call again later in the week. She was not expecting anyone, and she gasped in surprise when she examined the calling card which the housekeeper now presented her with.
“Mr. Johnson?” she exclaimed, and Mrs. Thrip nodded.
“Yes, ma’am, he is waiting in the hallway. Shall I have him shown in?” she asked, and Rebecca nodded.
“Yes, but … is the Marquess here?” she asked, aware of what Nicholas would say if he knew whom she was about to receive.
“He went out about half an hour ago, ma’am. To Piccadilly, I think. You know how he likes Mr. Hatchard’s bookshop,” the housekeeper replied.
“And Duchess Sinclair?” Rebecca asked, for she knew too what her mother-in-law would say if she discovered the visitor in the library.
