Page 54 of The Marchioness of his Desire
It seemed strange to think that her presence could bring something of a comfort, but that was precisely what it did, and Rebecca once more felt her confidence increasing. She and the Duchess had now come to something of a mutual understanding, albeit from rather different angles. Rebecca was determined to see Nicholas’ reputation restored, and the Duchess was determined to see off any threat to the dynasty to which she had devoted her whole married life, a fact which now united them in their intentions.
“And I am glad of it,” Nicholas said, sitting down and nodding to the butler, so the soup might be served.
Footmen brought in the consommé, and, for a few moments, only the sound of cutlery scraping against crockery could be heard as the guests began to sup their soup. Nicholas had instructed his best claret to be served, in the hope that it might loosen the tongues of their guests, and by the time they had finished the first course, Edward had already drunk two glasses and was calling for his third.
“I was on Martinique, if you must know,” Edward said, glancing around him, wine glass in hand.
The countess shot him a warning glance, but Edward shook his head.
“Edward,” Rebecca’s uncle murmured, but Edward was by now too drunk to recognize when silence might be preferable to revelation.
“I was on Martinique, and I travelled across the New World, as you well know, Rebecca. We were engaged to be married, and I made no secret of it,” he said.
“And is that where you became acquainted with the countess?” Rebecca asked, glancing at the countess, who scowled.
“I did not know him there,” she replied, but Edward shook his head.
“We did know one another,” he said, and the countess shook her head.
“Be quiet,” she said, and it seemed that her confident demeanor had been shaken.
The butler and the footmen now returned to remove the plates and the second course was brought in, a large joint of meat, served with dishes of vegetables and potatoes.
“Tell me, uncle, are your debts cleared?” Rebecca asked, and her uncle shifted awkwardly in his chair.
“They will be,” he said, catching a glance from Edward, who scowled.
“You must pay Edward back the money he gave you, else he will be out of pocket, and perhaps he has debts himself to pay,” Rebecca said, enjoying her little game.
But at these words, the countess let out a cry of indignation, turning to Edward in anger.
“You have no money?” she cried, and Edward pushed back his chair and rose angrily to his feet.
“You just told me to be quiet about it. I have money, just as soon as this old creature pays me what I am owed,” he declared, turning to Rebecca’s uncle, who suddenly looked terribly worried.
“That would be the money with which you bought me, Edward, I presume? How tragic for you that you did not receive the goods you believed to have purchased,” Rebecca said, as Edward cursed under his breath.
“Do you mean to tell me you have no money?” the countess asked, and Edward shook his head.
“No … I am … penniless,” he declared, and the countess sprang to her feet, tossing aside her napkin, as crockery and glassware went flying across the table.
“Goodness me, what a way to behave,” Duchess Sinclair said, shaking her head and tutting.
“You told me you had the money; you told me you could pay,” she said, as Edward faltered.
“I … I have the money. Be quiet! I will pay; this is not the place to discuss this,” he hissed, but the countess was a formidable woman, and, like an animal trapped in a cage, she now put up a fight.
“It is precisely the place to discuss it. I went along with your deception. I did everything you asked, because you told me that soon I would have everything I ever dreamed of. Not only the child, but money too. Enough money to live on comfortably all the rest of my days. But now …” she said, as Edward back away.
“What is all this?” Nicholas demanded, and the countess pointed to her stomach.
“This is his,” she cried, and Rebecca let out a gasp, as Edward gave a cry of anguish.
“You foolish harlot,” he cried, as Duchess Sinclair raised her hand to her forehead.
“Goodness me, my nerves,” she declared, as Nicholas sprang to his feet.
“Are you telling me the child you are carrying is his?” he asked, looking from Rebecca to Edward and back in astonishment.
