Page 59 of The Marchioness of his Desire
Now, the two of them rolled beneath the covers, kissing as he subsided, their bodies entwined, panting and breathless. There had been an intensity she had not felt before, a connection forged which was now deeper and more intimate. She had longed for this; the delight of their union was now entirely expressed, a feeling she already wanted again.
* * *
In the days which followed, Rebecca and Nicholas were inseparable as though they had been offered a chance to begin again. Each night he would come to her, and the two of them shared ever greater passions and ecstasies, pleasures as yet unforetold.
On one particular morning, they were late to rise, and the two of them emerged from Rebecca’s bedchamber long after the bell for breakfast had rung, joining Laura and Duchess Sinclair in the drawing room. Rebecca was astonished to find the two of them sitting happily together, Laura having just finished playing a piece on the pianoforte.
“I had not realized what a talent your sister has, Rebecca. It is quite remarkable,” Duchess Sinclair said, and Laura smiled.
“The Duchess is teaching me a new piece; it is called ‘La Belle de mer’ – the beauty of the sea or the beautiful sea,” Laura said, and she began to play a few notes, which filled the drawing room with a delightful sound.
“Very good, Laura,” Rebecca said, smiling at her sister, who now got down from the pianoforte stool.
“May I go outside to play now?” she asked, and Rebecca nodded.
“You may but listen out for Mrs. Thrip calling you in for luncheon,” she said.
“I have arranged a picnic for us,” Duchess Sinclair said, and Rebecca glanced at Nicholas, who smiled.
“A picnic? But you hate picnics, mother. As a boy, you never came on a single excursion with us, and you always said that dining outdoors was a vulgar habit of the aspiring classes, who thought it appropriate to show off their cheap silverware and crockery in public,” Nicholas replied, causing his mother to tut.
“I am sure that I never said anything of the sort. Besides, it is a beautiful day, and I think a picnic would be delightful. I have already sent word to your uncle, Rebecca and also to your friends, Lady Crawford and Miss Ferguson. The events we have endured are the talk of the ton,but we have done nothing to be ashamed of and must hold our heads up high. Do you not agree?” she asked, and Rebecca smiled.
“I think it to be an excellent idea,” she said, and the Duchess smiled.
“You never cease to amaze me, mother,” Nicholas said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I even sent word to your friend, Mr. Bennet, for I am willing to believe that he might become a friend too. Now that, as you say, I am less of an old dragon,” Duchess Sinclair said, smiling at Nicholas.
“I am sure Ian will be only too happy to accept,” he replied.
“Good, get ready then; I have instructed Mrs. Thrip to prepare the hampers for noon,” she said, just as the clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour.
A short while later, Rebecca found herself arm in arm with Nicholas as the party set off from the house to the park. Four footmen carried the provisions, along with practical necessities: a table, chairs, rugs and cushions, an awning, and boxes of cutlery, crockery, and glassware.
Soon, they selected an area beneath some trees, and the footmen set to preparing the setting. The awning was erected, the table covered in a fair linen cloth, and all manner of good things to eat were laid out. There was cold roast chicken, a side of glazed ham, a large Ox tongue, freshly baked breads, a dozen salads, pickles, and preserves. A large fruit cake graced the center of the table, and lemonade was prepared, along with wine and ale, so that there seemed enough food to feed every person taking their leisure in the park that day, not to mention the family and guests themselves.
It was not long before Rebecca’s uncle arrived. He was bearing flowers, a large bouquet, which he presented to Rebecca, along with a volume of poetry for Laura, who looked astonished to see the smile upon her uncle’s face.
“Is everyone behaving differently today, Rebecca?” she whispered, and Rebecca smiled.
“I think this is what is meant by a change of heart,” she said, just as Samantha and Catherine came hurrying toward them.
“Oh, Rebecca, we heard what had happened, Her Grace sent word this morning. You poor dear, how awful for you! What a brute that Edward is; I cannot believe he would draw a pistol upon you in that manner. He deserves the full force of the law,” Catherine said, throwing her arms around Rebecca.
“I am quite all right, do not worry. A little shaken, perhaps, but otherwise in good spirits,” Rebecca replied, and Samantha looked at her in astonishment.
“But you could have been killed,” she cried, brushing tears from her eyes.
“Ah, but Edward did not reckon upon the good actions of the most unlikely characters,” Rebecca replied, pointing at the Duchess and her uncle, who were now sharing a joke over a glass of lemonade.
“Really?” Catherine gasped, and Rebecca recounted all that had occurred in the dining room the evening before.
Catherine and Samantha stood open mouthed, and it was not until the arrival of Ian Bennet that Rebecca could convince them to join her at the picnic table so eager were they to learn every detail of the extraordinary tale.
“He is mad; he must be! That is the only explanation,” Catherine concluded, “and that is why I intend never to marry.”
“It is not as simple as that, if you fall in love, then there is nothing you can do to prevent it growing,” Rebecca replied, and Catherine scoffed.
