Page 42 of The Marchioness of his Desire
Rebecca could take no more, and without excusing herself, she fled from the room. Nicholas called after her, but she could think of nothing but escape, fleeing up the stairs to her chambers and flinging herself upon the bed. She was sobbing, tears running down her cheeks as the horrible image of the countess flashed across her mind. She could hear the delight in her voice at the revelation, the cruel and callous words which had so shattered Rebecca’s happiness. How would they ever recover from this tragedy, and how would the truth ever be revealed?
Chapter Seventeen
Nicholas was miserable. He had felt so happy in the days following his reconciliation with Rebecca, the passions they had felt, heightened by the knowledge of their love for one another. But all that had been dashed by the arrival of the countess with her lies and accusations. He remembered no such woman, and it seemed tragically ironic that, despite his infidelities, he was now telling the truth, only for the truth to be disbelieved.
He had tried to talk to Rebecca, though it was clear that she doubted the truth of what he was saying, however hard he tried to convey it. He had pleaded with her at her door, sent her flowers and other trinkets, and waited for her upon the stairs, but all to no avail. She did not believe him, nor was she willing to accept that the story told by the countess was entirely fabricated, a series of lies upon lies, the basis of which was a child who could belong to any man.
“I must know the truth about this woman,” he said to Ian Bennet, as the two of them walked in the park two days following the revelation.
Gossip around the ton was already gathering apace, and news had reached the salons of a mysterious countess who claimed to be carrying the Marquess of Somerset’s child. It was a scandal the likes of which had never been heard of before, believed entirely due to the marquess’ reputation as a womanizer, not least with his new wife, whom he had only married as a result of scandal, or so the gossip mongers said.
“I have made some enquiries, but her story is true, at least the part about her being whom she claims to be,” Ian replied, shaking his head.
“Was she on Martinique at the time she claims?” Nicholas asked, and Ian shrugged his shoulders.
“She has led a most exotic life. It seems there is not a capital in Europe where her name is not known in one way or another, and it is true that she has spent time in the New World and the colonies. All things considered, she may well have been on Martinique at the time she claims.” Nicholas cursed.
“Damn it, man, I will not have this falsity spread like wildfire across the ton.I am innocent of all she claims,” Nicholas replied, clenching his fists.
“Come now, Nicholas, tell me truthfully, did you meet her? The countess, I mean, and is all of this true? Is she carrying your child?” Ian asked, stopping mid-stride, and turning to Nicholas with a worried expression upon his face.
“For once, I am telling the truth. I knew of no such woman. Certainly, she is carrying a child, but that child is not mine, and what is more, I intend to prove it,” Nicholas exclaimed.
He was angry at this sudden turn of events. The happy bliss he had found with Rebecca was now shattered by the lies of a woman he did not even know. What was her motivation? Had she been encouraged in her deceptions? And why now? Why had she appeared as she did, filled with such grandiose claims? It was a puzzle he wanted answers to, a mystery which had all the hallmarks of a plot to discredit him.
“Men have fallen upon lesser claims,” Ian said, shaking his head.
“And have risen, too. I assure you, Ian, I shall prove my innocence in this matter. I admit I have been a womanizer in the past, even given over to scandal on occasion, but in this case, my conscience is clean. I love Rebecca, and that is final,” he replied, and without waiting for Ian to reply, he stormed off across the park.
When he arrived home, he paused in the hallway, listening for the sound of his mother’s voice or that of Rebecca. But he could hear no voices, only the sound of sobbing coming from the drawing room. His heart felt heavy in his chest, wracked as he was with a terrible guilt. It was not a guilt for his actions, though if he had not been free with his favors in the past, then perhaps even now his reputation might be saved, but a guilt at having brought this sorrow to Rebecca’s heart and raised the suspicions of his infidelity in her mind.
He knocked and entered the drawing room, where Rebecca was sitting by the window. Her head was bowed, and she had a handkerchief in her hand, dabbing at her eyes. She looked up, red faced, tears running down her cheeks, her whole-body trembling as though she was unable to cease her tears. He wanted to rush to her side, to kneel and comfort her, to take her in his arms and make love to her. Anything to show her how much he loved her and wanted to make amends.
“Do not come near me, Nicholas. I cannot bear the thought of it,” she cried, turning away from him.
“But Rebecca, please, allow me to explain. There is so much I want to explain to you. I say again, I do not know the woman, and I know nothing of the child she claims to carry. Will you not believe me? Oh, why will you not believe me?” he cried, hurrying to her side, and kneeling there, a pathetic and desperate look coming over his face.
“How can I trust you? How can I ever trust you again? Tell me the truth, Nicholas,” she said, shaking her head and turning away from him as he clutched hold of her hand and implored her.
“It is the truth, but your mind has been poisoned against me, you are blinded by my mother’s words and by …” he began, but Rebecca cut him off.
“This has nothing to do with your mother. It is you who have created these doubts in my mind. This was my greatest fear, some woman from the past, and one with a child, too. Am I to sit back and believe that you are not responsible, when I have heard such whispers of your infidelity?” she cried, and Nicholas fell silent.
He could hardly blame her for her suspicions, though he knew that his mother was partly to blame. She had poisoned Rebecca’s mind against him and ensured that the story the countess told could be believed. It was plausible enough, he knew that, and the matter would only grow worse with the arrival of the child.
“We have pushed the past aside too often, Rebecca,” he began, knowing that his own actions had hardly cast him in a favorable light.
He had made a promise to her all those years ago, a promise he was guilty of breaking. He had left for Eton with every intention of returning to marry her, but the many twists and turns of life had pulled them further and further apart. The colonies had contained too many distractions, too many delights, and Nicholas had given into temptation all too often. He was hardly blameless, but in this he was entirely innocent, knowing for certain that he had never met the countess, much less fathered her child.
“The past is a painful place for us,” she whispered. “I know we argued over this very matter, but this is something else.”
“But I am telling the truth now. There were other women, I admit that, and it shames me, but not this one. I know nothing of this countess,” he exclaimed, shaking his head.
“Why did your father summon you back there? Did he not know how easily you could fall into scandal?” she asked, and Nicholas shook his head.
“My father thinks of nothing but himself, and I know you thought me lost, but I came back, did I not?” he said, and Rebecca nodded.
“By which time I had begun my courtship with Edward. I had given you up for lost, Nicholas. I thought nothing could come of what once was. I would have forgiven those rumors, but …” her words trailed off.
