Page 9 of The Marchioness of his Desire
Her eyes shifted to Ian. “I do. However, it is of a somewhat delicate nature and as such would be of no interest to Mr. Bennet.”
He begged to differ with her. Ian, he was certain, would be highly diverted by whatever “delicate” issue his mother wished to discuss. He surveyed her expression. The very blandness of it assured him that she was willing to embark upon an argument of monstrous proportions to obtain her objective in ousting Ian from their company. His friend did not deserve that.
He turned to Ian, who sat on the edge of his chair, fixing his attention first on one and then the other of them.
“I do apologize, Ian. ‘Twould seem there are important family matters to discuss.” He nodded toward the door. “Would you do me the courtesy of allowing me a few hours of privacy with my mother before returning for me? Shall we say about eight o’clock?”
Ian rose swiftly, bowed to the duchess, and walked to the door where he turned back to face Nicholas with a smile and a quizzically raised brow.
“Of course, my lord. Your servant, as always.” His wicked grin belied the humility of his words, but Nicholas forbore a response. There would be time for that later.
“Until tonight then, Mr. Bennet.”
Nicholas waited until the door closed behind Ian, then he walked to the window his mother had recently left and fixed his eyes on the trees across the courtyard.
“Well, Mother. You have me to yourself now.” He glanced back at Waltham. “Well, nearly to yourself, anyway. What is it you wish to discuss?”
Duchess Sinclair pursed her lips, smoothed her hands across her lap, then folded them together.
“You should know, Nicholas, that in your extended absence I have labored diligently to secure your future happiness.”
He raised his brows. “My future happiness. I confess myself at a loss to understand your meaning, mother.”
“Oh, do sit down, Nicholas! I have no wish to speak to your back.”
“Very well.” He took Ian’s vacant chair, facing his fidgeting parent. “What do you mean by my future happiness?”
“Well, what do you think I mean? I have secured you a most eligible bride, of course.”
Chapter Three
Rebecca surveyed the groups gathered randomly along the sides of the ballroom. She had been here over an hour and had yet to see either Samantha or Catherine. Both had assured her of their attendance, yet it seemed neither one was present.
She started as Edward stepped close to her and rested his hand on her lower back.
“Are you looking for someone, my lady?” His warm breath whispered against her ear, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms and neck.
She pulled back slightly. “Yes, I am. Have you seen Lady Samantha or Miss Ferguson?”
He grinned. “Ah, the clutch of hens from which I am soon to remove you?”
“How dare you?” Rebecca placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “Need I remind you that those two are my dearest friends? You will do well to remember that my relationship with them will not be altered by any change in my marital status.”
Red suffused Edward’s cheeks. His eyes narrowed momentarily, then he laughed. Catching both her hands in his, he pulled them to his lips and kissed each in turn before Rebecca snatched them loose from his grip. “My lady! You are most charming when you spit at me. I confess it is a mighty struggle to refrain from planting a hearty kiss on your most tempting lips.”
“I fear you discount my assertion, Mr. Johnson. You shall not succeed in diverting me from my current purpose. And,” Rebecca injected an icy tone into her next words, “as to kissing me – I remind you that you have gained neither the privilege nor the right to undertake such a task. Should you attempt it, your effort shall be repulsed – with great force, if need be.”
“My dear Lady Rebecca.” Edward placed a hand over his heart and looked at the floor a moment before raising his head to meet her gaze. “I could never discount any of your claims. Your loyalty to your friends does you credit and gives me hope that, in the future, your humble servant shall perhaps merit the same devotion.”
He looked past her toward the entrance to the ballroom.
“Ah. It seems your search will soon be ended, my dear. I believe Lady Samantha and Miss Ferguson have just arrived. Shall I escort you to them?”
Rebecca twisted away from his reach. “No need, thank you. I am perfectly capable of making my way across a room unassisted.”
“Of course you are, my sweet. I must insist, however. I do not want any of the eligible young swains you walk past to think you open to or perhaps even inviting of their advances.”
Fury rose in her. Rebecca gritted her teeth. She drew a deep breath in and counted slowly to ten. Edward was behaving in a very possessive manner. A ridiculous affectation, considering he had not offered for her. She closed her eyes; he did make a good point, though. If he walked with her, she would not be delayed by any young buck seeking a dance partner. She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes.
