Page 32 of The Marchioness of his Desire
“She and her …maid, are in her Grace’s chambers. I was told not to disturb them, though who that woman thinks she is; a maidservant telling the housekeeper what to do, I ask you,” Mrs. Thrip began, for she had no liking for Waltham, nor her mistress.
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Thrip, you may show Mr. Johnson in, though … I would ask for your discretion in this matter. There is no need for my husband to know he has called, thank you,” she said, and Mrs. Thrip nodded.
“Shall I ask Lyddie to act as chaperone?” she asked, and Rebecca shook her head.
“No … that will be all, thank you, Mrs. Thrip. Would you ask the butler to show Mr. Johnson in, please?” she replied, and the housekeeper nodded.
Rebecca stood and smoothed down her skirts. This was a most unexpected surprise, and though her heart was beating fast, Rebecca was curious as to why Edward should choose to visit her this day. He had made no formal contact in the weeks gone by, and the last time she had seen him had been on the day of her wedding when he had handed her a posy of flowers and begged for them to remain friends.
It was a friendship she had been only too happy to agree to, though in truth she had not expected it to come to fruition. The thought of remaining on friendly terms with a man she had spurned seemed farcical, and yet here he was, presenting himself to her quite out of the blue. A moment later, there came a knock at the library door, and the butler announced the honorable, Mr. Edward Johnson, who stepped past her and bowed.
“Lady Somerset,” he said as she curtsied to him, even though her rank made no calling upon her to do so. He was a commoner, without title or prestige, though his naval rank held sway in certain circles.
He looked around with interest as though he had come as much to admire the furnishings as to visit the occupant.
“You surprise me by your presence, sir,” she said, offering him a seat opposite hers.
“For which I can only apologize. I was passing, and … well, I thought I would look you up,” he said, and Rebecca raised an eyebrow.
“We are some distance from the river. Are you not billeted at Greenwich, currently?” she asked, and he blushed.
“Forgive me, you are too sharp, Rebecca. In truth, I wished to pay you a call, and I was only too happy that I found you at home this day. It is a magnificent house and ever so lavishly furnished,” he said, still gazing around the room.
“My mother-in-law, Duchess Sinclair, she has somewhat remodeled us after the latest fashions. This room was red until last week,” she said, sighing, for the change in décor was not entirely to her taste.
“And a fine appearance it has, very fine indeed,” he said, nodding his head approvingly.
“I trust you are well?” she asked, wondering where the conversation would lead, for he seemed intent upon being friendly, despite all that had passed between them.
“Very well, thank you, in fine form, though I fear it will not be long before the Navy is deployed against the French again, only a matter of time,” he replied, ever boastful of his position.
They had first met as children. Their parents moved in similar circles, and they had played together with little thought of romance. But Edward had grown into an arrogant youth, and Rebecca had come to favor the company of Nicholas over Edward, though it had been Edward who had remained her companion, whilst Nicholas was sent away to Eton before subsequently taking flight for the colonies.
Rebecca wanted to be polite; Edward had shown great restraint in his emotions, given her rejection, and now she felt that, at the very least, she owed him civility, if nothing more. But part of her felt uncomfortable at his presence, for she knew what Nicholas would think if he discovered him there, and the questions she would be faced with if his presence were known. She would be civil and hope he would depart once the formalities of the visit were complete.
“The Regent is intent upon asserting himself,” she replied, and Edward nodded.
“But I am not afraid of war; I am ready to play my part as I have always been,” he said, that familiar note of arrogance entering his voice.
“And I wish you well,” she said.
At this point, Rebecca discerned that it would be pertinent to call for refreshments, but to do so would prolong Edward’s presence, and she knew that it would be only a matter of time before Nicholas returned. Instead, she sat in silence, waiting for him to speak, conscious of how odd it was that a man she had so spurned should still show interest in her, like a lost puppy returning to its mistress.
“You look well in marriage, Rebecca. I trust that Nicholas is good to you?” he asked, fixing her with a searching look.
“He is, and we have his mother staying with us at present, Duchess Sinclair,” Rebecca replied.
“Ah … yes, of course. An estimable woman,” he said, and Rebecca made no reply.
At that moment, there came a knock at the door, and Lyddie entered, on the pretense of bearing Rebecca’s correspondence, though in truth it seemed more likely that Mrs. Thrip had sent her to check that all was well. Rebecca was relieved to see her, hopeful that some excuse could be made so that she might excuse herself.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but Miss Laura is asking for ye. She is terribly upset about somethin’, and we daenae know what. The governess simply cannae make her stop crying,” Lyddie said, and Rebecca startled, rising immediately and excusing herself.
“Oh, dear, I am sorry Edw … Mr. Johnson, but I must bid you good day. We have had some trouble with my sister of late; she simply will not settle,” she said, and Edward rose from his chair and bowed.
“Of course, please, do not let me delay you from seeing to her. I shall call again very soon,” he said and followed her out into the hallway, where they bid one another good day once again, and he left.
As the door closed, Rebecca turned to Lyddie and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to her, grateful to be rid of Edward before his presence should be discovered.
