Page 7 of The Marchioness of his Desire
The footman nodded and bowed. “Yes, my … er, Mr. Johnson.”
Rebecca raised her brows. Edward was certainly feeling comfortable in her home. “Edward?”
He looked up from his plate. “Yes, Lady Rebecca?”
She set her fork down. “I want to know what you and Uncle were discussing.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” He dabbed his napkin at his lips. “As you know, I have been working on some extra projects for the Admiral.”
“Yes, I do recall that, although you have yet to tell me the nature of these projects.”
He smiled. “All in good time, my lady. What I can tell you is that your uncle and I have reached certain agreements which will allow me to proceed with other important plans I am making.”
“Indeed. And what plans are those, if I may ask?”
“Of course, you may ask. I, however it pains me, must decline to answer at the moment.”
Rebecca felt her temper rise. “Oh, is that so? But perhaps you can tell me when you will be able to disclose this deep, dark secret?”
He laughed. “Your temper gives you the most adorable flush, my darling girl.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. He really had become most annoying. “You shall not distract me from my question.”
Edward looked at her, his eyes shining. “Of course. You must not mind my teasing, my lady. I have to speak with someone at the ball, and then I shall be able to reveal what you sweetly call my ‘deep, dark secret.’ I do hope your anger shall be assuaged by my disclosure.” He smiled and raised a brow.
Rebecca pressed her lips together. What was he thinking? He was usually much more forthcoming in their conversations. She sighed. It seemed that she had no choice but to wait until the ball to learn what Uncle and he had been discussing.
“Here, now.” Her Uncle dropped his hand heavily to the table, causing the utensils to jump.
Rebecca had been so caught up in her conversation with Edward that she had not noticed anyone return with Uncle’s coffee. She looked toward him now and realized that he had consumed nearly half of the carafe brought to him. His ability to imbibe any kind of drink seemed nearly unlimited.
“Time we were away.” Her Uncle pushed himself up from his chair.
Edward jumped up. “Yes. I agree, my lord.” He looked at Rebecca. “Are you ready for the evening, my lady? Shall we continue our conversation?” His eyes twinkled at her, daring her to answer.
Rebecca pushed back from the table and rose to her feet, keeping her eyes locked with Edward’s. She favored him with a slight smile. “Oh, yes, Mr. Johnson. I believe you shall find I am quite ready to pursue our conversation. I warn you: I shall discover whatever secrets you propose to keep.”
Edward laughed as they stepped from the dining room. “I look forward to it, Lady Rebecca. Most eagerly.”
* * *
“No need to announce us, Harrington. I know the way.”
“Very good, my lord.”
“Have refreshments sent up, if you would. I am famished.”
“Of course, my lord. And may I say how pleased we are that you are safely returned again.”
Nicholas turned and grinned at the rigidly upright older man who had known him since before he was in short pants.
“Thank you, Harrington. I am truly happy to be home.” He slapped the butler on his upper arm and turned to Ian. “As you requested, my friend, your interview with the dragon.”
He knew exactly where she would be at this time of day. Her favorite, or rather one of her favorite, pastimes was to observe the movements of the lower classes surreptitiously through her drawing room window on a sunny afternoon.
He bounded up the stairs, turned left down the hall and waited by the door for Ian to come up with him. Hand on the knob, he looked at his friend. “Take a deep breath, Ian.”
He had the door open and strode into the room before Ian could answer. There she was, just as he had known she would be. She did not look up but continued her survey of the scene before her.
