Page 34 of The Marchioness of his Desire
His mother was playing games, holding what she knew over him, lauding it as her personal possession. He wished she would simply be direct and tell him what it was she knew, rather than indulging her taste for whispered gossip and scandal.
“They have been here too, of course, but it is a gentleman caller who has presented his card most frequently,” and his mother now fixed her eyes intently upon him, as though delighting in perceiving his reaction.
Nicholas took in a deep breath, looking at his mother with confusion. Rebecca had made no mention of any callers, and certainly not of any gentlemen visiting the house. Who could it be?
“And does this man have a name? Or is he merely a ghost passing in the night?” Nicholas asked, trying not to give his mother the satisfaction of the shock she had caused him.
“Oh yes, he is well known to you. Edward Johnson, the rejected one,” the final words emphasized as Nicholas gripped the arms of the chair upon which he sat.
“Johnson? He has been here?” Nicholas said, still wondering if this was some devious game of his mother’s or in fact the truth.
What reason would Edward Johnson have for calling upon Rebecca? She had rejected him in favor of Nicholas, an act which would surely preclude even the keenest of men from pursuing the object of their own affections. It seemed ludicrous to entertain the idea, but what reason would his mother have to lie?
“On several occasions, and Rebecca has gladly admitted him, in fact, she has entertained him,” his mother said, once again watching for Nicholas’ reaction.
He took a deep breath, weighing up what this strange revelation could mean. Rebecca had every right to entertain whom she pleased, though the thought of her receiving a man she had so recently been engaged to seemed extremely odd. If she had received him once out of courtesy, then such a thing could be readily brushed aside, but to do so again and then again, demanded an explanation.
“And how long did he stay?” Nicholas asked, trying to sound casually interested, rather than angrily aroused.
“An hour or so. They took tea, or so I am told by Mrs. Thrip,” his mother said, and Nicholas rose to his feet.
“I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation, and we do not need to rely upon the housekeeper to furnish us with it,” he said, his anger growing at the situation his mother now described as he imagined the intimacies between Rebecca and Edward, his imagination running wild.
“What possible reasonable explanation could there be for a married woman to spend more time with her former betrothed than with her husband?” his mother replied, and this was the final twist of the knife.
“I will not hear another word,” Nicholas said, rising from his chair and hurrying to the door.
“I tell you all of this only so that you might be aware. She is still in love with him; that much is certain,” his mother called out.
“Idle speculation. There will be an explanation,” he cried, but at that moment he could not think of one, and having been fully sobered by his mother’s words, he rushed from the room.
Out on the landing, Nicholas paused. He thought about seeking out Rebecca immediately and confronting her. How dare she go behind his back and entertain the man whom she had so recently been betrothed to? It seemed perverse, as though she were mocking him in secret. But the feelings which were now aroused in him caught him somewhat by surprise; the predominant emotion was jealousy, born out of genuine love for the woman he had married.
It would be foolish to confront Rebecca in such a heightened state of emotion.
Instead, he returned to the hallway and called for his hat and gloves, stepping out into the afternoon air, and making for the park. Fashionable ladies were taking turns with their chaperones, and gentlemen passed the time of day upon the long, tree-lined walks. Nicholas nodded to several of his acquaintances as he passed but found himself largely lost in thought, picturing Rebecca and examining his feelings.
He loved her, of that he was certain, though it had taken his mother’s cruel words to make him truly realize it. The pang of jealousy which ran through him now was directed at Edward, the man he had thought vanquished from Rebecca’s thoughts, who had now returned, crashing into her affections like an ill-treated dog which returns to the source of its contempt. Would Rebecca see him rejected, or did she intend to pursue whatever kind of relationship each desired?
The shadows were lengthening when Nicholas finally returned home. He could feel his mother’s eyes watching him from her chambers above and kept his own fixed resolutely to the ground as he climbed the steps and entered the hallway. Mrs. Thrip came to meet him, and he handed her his hat and gloves, looking around expectantly for any sign of Rebecca.
“Please, your Lordship, Lady Somerset has a visitor with her in the drawing room,” the housekeeper said, and Nicholas felt the color drain from his cheeks.
“Who is it?” he asked, though he surely knew the answer already.
“Mr. Edward Johnson, your Lordship. He has been here for over an hour,” came the reply, the housekeeper looking nervously at Nicholas, who clenched his fists together in anger.
“I see,” he said and strode toward the drawing room door.
Chapter Fourteen
“Ishall never forget that summer; it is the first of my recollection,” Edward said as he helped himself to a macaroon.
“Every summer in my childhood is long and hot, at least that is my memory, and we would spend days by the boating lake and in the woods. Do you remember the little sailing ship we had?” Rebecca asked, and Edward smiled.
“Oh yes,the Saucy Jane.You would sit in the stern, and I would captain her, the little sail billowing in the breeze and taking us across to the folly upon the island in the middle of the lake.”
“You and Nicholas would always argue over who was captain, if I remember correctly,” Rebecca said, and Edward laughed.
