Page 43 of The Marchioness of his Desire
“Then what am I to do?” he said at last, hanging his head in remorse as Rebecca continued to weep.
“I do not know, Nicholas. But for now, I only wish to be left alone,” she replied, and Nicholas rose to his feet, nodding, and turning sadly to leave.
“You do know that I love you,” he said, pausing at the door, and Rebecca looked up and shook her head.
“Such words mean nothing without fidelity. What is love without the giving of oneself entirely to another?” she asked, and Nicholas had no words to reply.
“I shall prove it. Somehow, I shall prove it,” he whispered to himself, closing the door behind him and sinking to his knees in the hallway.
There was nothing more that he could do to convince Rebecca of his innocence. His only choice now was to wait and see what happened next, to bide his time and hope that either the countess would desist in whatever wicked scheme she had concocted, or that Rebecca would finally come to see the sincerity of his words. But the scandal sheets were full of their intrigues, and the tonwas abuzz with the story of the unfolding scandal. Wherever Nicholas went, he was beset by whispers behind the fans of fashionable ladies and the knowing looks of gentlemen, who themselves might well have wished an audience with the mysterious countess.
“And if she does not?” Ian asked, when later that afternoon they met for drinks at Nicholas’ club.
“Then all is lost, my friend, for I have never loved anyone as I do Rebecca,” Nicholas replied, knowing that without her, his heart and soul could never be the same again.
Chapter Eighteen
Rebecca had found little comfort in Nicholas’ words. She wanted desperately to believe him, but doubts remained in her mind. Doubts that lingered and festered, growing greater with every passing moment. She knew nothing of the countess but everything of Nicholas’ reputation. It was her mother-in-law who had sowed the seeds of doubt, and now they grew, added to by the constant speculations of the scandal sheets. She had known that Nicholas was a womanizer, a philanderer, and loose with his favors, but to father a child, that was something else.
“Some tea, ma’am? I always say that things look better with a nice cup of tea in hand. You have been so sad these past few days,” Mrs. Thrip said, bustling into the drawing room.
Rebecca dried her eyes and nodded, rising from her place at the window and letting out a sigh.
“I have been unable to raise myself out of this state of melancholy, Mrs. Thrip. It is almost too much to bear,” she said, shaking her head.
“It will all come right in the end, I am sure of it. This countess, or whatever she styles herself, surely, she cannot mean what she says. She appeared delusional, and there is many a woman in this city who would like to make out a connection with his Lordship, I am sure,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
A knock now came at the door, and Mrs. Thrip hurried off to open it, returning a moment later with an ashen face.
“Mr. Johnson is here to see you, your Ladyship, shall I … oh,” she exclaimed, as Edward pushed past her into the room.
Rebecca rose and curtsied hurriedly, and he bowed, glancing at Mrs. Thrip, who nodded and left the room.
“I must speak with you, Rebecca. The talk is spread far and wide across the ton.Your husband is in disgrace, the last in a series of scandals, and this countess, this mysterious woman from exotic climes would have it that she is carrying his child. Can it be true?” he asked, and Rebecca shook her head.
“I do not want to believe it, but I am sorrowful to suggest that it may be true. Indeed, I fear that it is,” she said, sitting back down heavily at the chair by the window.
Edward’s intrusion was unwelcome, but she could hardly dismiss him outright. Why had he waited until now? Surely, the scandal had broken immediately, and he would have been amongst the first to know.
“This is a dark day, most of all for you, Rebecca. You do not deserve this. To be married and then discover that your husband is a philanderer. And what if more women emerge from the woodwork? Who is to say that the countess will be the last? Or that she was the first? One bastard begets another,” he said, helping himself to a brandy.
“You should not speak in such terms,” Rebecca said, but Edward only scoffed.
“I mean it, Rebecca. First you have one woman making claims, and then you will have others. Very soon, his Lordship will possess an entire harem of them. Surely you do not want that?” he said, and Rebecca shook her head.
“What I want, is a peaceful marriage to the man I love,” she replied.
It sounded so simple when put in such terms. But love was still the emotion she felt most strongly for Nicholas. She loved him and could forgive his previous infidelities. It was the future she worried about, and she knew that Edward was right. Once a womanizer always a womanizer.
“You still love him?” Edward asked, and Rebecca looked up at him with an angry expression.
“I still love him. Why would I ever cease to? But I cannot rid myself of the memory of that horrible woman nor of her accusations.”
“But does he love you? It is hardly the actions of a loving man,” Edward said, planting further seeds of doubt in her mind.
“We were not married then; it is of no consequence what happened in the past. It is the child the worries me, the thought of the future, and, as you say, the possibility of it occurring again.”
“Then leave him,” Edward said, his voice now sounding cold and calculated.
