Page 6 of The Marchioness of his Desire
Ian sobered. “’Tis not a man, Nick. It is Lady Rebecca Paddington.”
The air rushed from his lungs. Ian was watching him closely. Nicholas clenched his fists on his knees, fighting to keep his temper.
“Lady Rebecca, you say?”
“Aye. Word is that Lord Dalton’s second son — you know him, I trow — a Navy officer, plans to make the offer soon. Not a brilliant match for her but suitable.”
“Not brilliant? Suitable?” Rage exploded inside him. “Damn it, man, ‘tis completely ridiculous! An earl’s daughter wed to a nobody?”
He barely kept himself from punching the side of the carriage.
“An earl’s daughter she may be, Nick, but her father died shortly after you left. She’s been under the guardianship of her uncle — the new earl — for nigh on three years now. Never made a come out and now, rumor has it, she is desperate to escape the old man.”
“You seem to know a great deal about Lady Rebecca.” Nicholas choked back the jealous heat that threatened to overtake him.
“I make no secret of it, my friend. I knew of your interests where she was concerned — from our time at university. You spoke of her a great deal, perhaps more than you recall yourself. For your sake,” Ian looked him in the eye, “for your sake, Nick, I have kept informed regarding her situation.”
Nicholas gritted his teeth. “You mistake the circumstance, Ian. Lady Rebecca is … was … a friend.” He fixed his gaze at the window, staring at nothing. “Only a friend. She … we … we had words before I left last time. Words that cannot be taken back nor their damage remedied.”
He faced his friend again. “But in one thing, you are correct. It is a mistake for her to accept Edward Johnson. We were once friends, of course, but he has since revealed his true colors. He is nothing but sniveling little coward, a man with no morals and a drunkard. Such a match would be a disaster.”
The carriage slowed to a stop, and the driver called out, “Somerset House, my lord.”
Nicholas put his hand on the door lever. “And I shall tell her so myself, as soon as I can arrange a meeting.” He bounded onto the walkway and waited for Ian to emerge.
“Do you not think …” Ian began.
“No. I do not. Now come. Time for you to meet the Duchess.” He strode up the steps of the elegantly appointed townhouse and slammed the knocker against the door.
Chapter Two
Rebecca paused at the closed drawing room door. She could hear voices murmuring. Oh, dear. Perhaps Edward had arrived earlier than she expected. Drawing a breath, she opened the door and entered.
Edward was seated on the blue couch – Mother’s final addition to the drawing room before her death. He looked up as Rebecca entered then jumped to his feet.
“Lady Rebecca.” He advanced to meet her as she stepped into the room, raising her hand to his lips. “You look lovely tonight.” He pulled her hand through his arm and led her to the couch.
Uncle Roland, slower in rising at her entrance, dropped into his wing-backed chair with a thump. He raised a glass in her direction. “Rebecca. About time. Ain’t good manners, gel, to keep a man waiting for his dinner.”
Heat flushed up her neck. “I apologize, Uncle.” She turned to Edward, who had seated himself next to her on the couch. “Edward, it was quite rude of me to keep you from your dinner.” She stood, and Edward rose with her. “Perhaps we should go along to the dining room now?”
Edward smiled at her. “It is of no matter, Lady Rebecca.” He stepped back, and his eyes swept over her from head to toe. “Your beauty and presence are worth any amount of delay.” He drew her hand to his arm and led her to the door.
“Are you coming, my lord?” Edward glanced back to where Uncle Roland was hauling himself upright once more.
Uncle Roland waved a hand toward them. “Go on, go on. Do not wait for me.”
Edward was seating Rebecca when Uncle Roland shuffled into the dining room and took his place at the head of the table. A few moments later, the footmen had set a light repast before them.
“Well, this looks quite tempting.” Edward smiled across the table as he caught Rebecca’s eye.
He turned to look at Uncle Roland. “Thank you, your lordship, for the invitation to dine with you before escorting you both to the ball. I wonder if I might suggest coffee for your dinner libation? I believe you will want to be more alert when we reach the Seftons’. You do recall our discussion, my Lord?”
Uncle Roland grunted as he chewed.
Rebecca looked from Edward to her uncle and back to Edward again. “What discussion, may I ask?”
Edward held up a finger. “One moment, if you please, my dear.” He motioned a footman to the table. “Have Cook prepare strong coffee and bring it to his lordship directly.”
