Rebecca (26 page)

“He did? How generous of him!” He walked smoothly toward her as he spoke.

Stepping backward in tempo with his paces, she said, “I would be glad to tell you all about it at dinner. If you will excuse me, I must get cleaned up.”

He nodded. His smile broadened as his eyes wandered over her once more. “I understand, Rebecca. I will look forward to hearing all about it. Have a pleasant bath. I will talk to Nicholas later.”

Before she could react, he had opened the door and was gone. She was still standing in the center of the room when Collette came in moments later. As she watched the hip bath being filled, Rebecca told herself she must have imagined the expression in Curtis's eyes as he had backed her toward the wall. He loved Eliza. Why would he look at her with lust?

She forced the thought from her mind as she sank into the warm water. Telling Collette to come back in fifteen minutes, she scrubbed the heat of the day from her skin and hair. Climbing out, she wrapped one thick towel around her head and put her robe over her dried body while she went to her closet to see which dress she would wear tonight. With all the clothes Nicholas had ordered for her, it was a pleasant decision. Her fingers reached for a gold dress, then settled for an ivory gown she had worn only once before. If Nicholas brought his business associates in for supper, she wanted to look lovely so he would be proud of her.

She went to sit at her dressing table to brush out her damp hair. On top of it was a small chest and a note with her name printed on the outside of it. Curiously, she opened the page.

My dear Rebecca
,

These rightfully belong to you. They have been at the solicitors' in London, but I requested they be brought to Foxbridge Cloister for you to enjoy. Some of the pieces may be antiquated, sweetheart, but wear whatever you like. They are yours.

There were no signature, but only one person could have written the letter. Putting it aside, she opened the box. She gasped as she saw the collection of jewelry inside. Gems of every color were set in bracelets, pendants, rings, and earbobs. A single stone could have purchased her family's farm in Connecticut. She had known that the Wythes were far from poor, but she had had no idea they owned such wealth.

She glanced up as Collette opened the door. The maid's eyes widened as she saw the jewelry box. Feeling a need to explain, Rebecca said, “This was waiting when I finished bathing.”

The maid chuckled. Lady Foxbridge clearly was embarrassed by this sudden show of Foxbridge riches. “They are lovely, my lady. What do you wish to wear? How about these?”

She lifted out a pair of earrings and a necklace made of slender strands of gold with sapphires set in designs like flower blossoms. “With your ivory gown, these will be perfect, my lady.”

“I think you are right.” She smiled. “I just can't imagine me wearing something so valuable.”

Collette hooked it around Rebecca's neck. “There. Now you are wearing it, and it looks as if it was made especially for you. If I may say so, my lady, you must learn to enjoy luxuries. Don't accept the burdens and reject the pleasant parts. Come, and I will help you dress.”

An hour later, Rebecca descended the stairs feeling very different from the ragged, stained woman who had gone up after the fair. She noticed Brody was not at his usual post by the door. That unusual circumstance did not bother her. She suspected he was dealing with providing accommodations for the solicitors who would be staying overnight. The butler was so efficient that her duties were minimal and enjoyable.

Knowing she was early for dinner, she went into the drawing room to look at the portrait of the woman who had come to fascinate her as much as she did her many-times-great-grandson Nicholas. The more she looked at the painting, the more she saw that she did not resemble that woman more than superficially. She wished she could reach back in time to speak to Sybill and learn the truth about the most notorious Lady Foxbridge.

“You like her, don't you?”

Rebecca turned to see Eliza watching her with a baffled expression. “I think I feel sorry for her, more than anything else.”

“Sorry for her?” Feeling sympathy for Sybill Wythe was an astounding idea for Eliza.

“Yes, for she must have been very unhappy. She was married to a man she obviously did not love. Whether she took a lover or not, she has been scorned for centuries for that faithlessness.” She added, “I don't understand why you Wythes have kept her portrait in the most public room of the house if you hate her and what she was.”

Familiar laughter filled the room as Nicholas joined them. “Don't you understand us yet, Rebecca? Her crime, whether it was committed or not, is the shame all Wythes must bear. Instead of hiding the past in the dark recesses of the attic as other families do, we indulge in self-flagellation to prove to everyone that we can rise above such crimes as lust and infidelity.”

“Nicholas, that's awful!” scolded Eliza with a chuckle.

“But you must admit it's true.”

“You are probably right, brother dear. Have you finished with your business so you may join us for dinner?” Her question was unnecessary, for Nicholas had changed into formal clothes.

He nodded. “We'll finish in the morning. If I had had to look at one more legal form written in Doyle's handwriting, I think it would have to have been one to order me declared insane. Will you go ahead, Eliza? I have something I want to discuss alone with Rebecca.”

His sister looked startled, but went out into the hall. Nicholas closed the double doors and flipped the latch that locked them before coming over to stand by his wife.

“What is wrong, Nicholas?”

He smiled as his eyes devoured the body his fingers longed to learn. “Only that the carriage arrived home too quickly.”

He swept her into his arms and leaned her back to kiss her deeply. Scooping her up into his arms, he moved to the settee. He sat with her on his lap, her full skirts flowing over him to cover his legs as well as hers. Unlike the dress she had worn to the church fair, this one dipped deep to give him an enticing view of her bosom accented by the fine jewels he had given her. His fingers picked up the necklace while at the same time caressing the skin beneath it.

“This looks lovely,” he whispered into her hair.

She breathed a wordless answer as he continued to touch her. When his head bent to place flame-hot kisses along the bared skin at the neckline of her gown, she clutched his shoulders to contain her longing to surrender. It would be so easy to beg him to make love to her. From deep inside her a steamy fire filled her with the urge to feel his body moving with hers in a rhythm she had yet to learn.

He regarded her lovely face softened by the passion she no longer tried to hide. He ran his hand along her body and saw her pleasured reaction. Although she wanted him as desperately as he longed to have her in his bed, she would not come to him willingly until she was sure Bennett no longer wanted her. Her vow made in distress was creating more torment for her.

Sadly, he said, “I hear Brody announcing dinner, sweetheart.” He lifted her to her feet and held her as she swayed on weakened knees. A stronger swell of desire surged through him as he knew that it was his loving that sapped her strength. She was so sure on her wounded leg that she had stopped using her cane. “If he doesn't come in another few weeks, you can be sure he isn't coming.”

Rebecca did not need clarification of his words. Like him, whenever she was ready to give in to her desire to be his, Keith invaded her thoughts. Her voice was very subdued as she said, “I think you are right. I almost wish I knew he wasn't coming.”

“Do you want to stay with me? There's no reason for you to go back with Bennett if he was to come here. I know you don't love him now. If you want to stay here, stay.”

She laughed, shortly. “Why wouldn't I want to stay? You have given me everything I could desire.”

“Everything, but the one thing I truly want to give you.” He raised her fingers to his lips. “Why can you accept everything I have offered but my heart and my life?”

Lowering her head, she fought to keep tears from dripping from her rapidly blinking eyes. She could speak only the same trite reason she had told him over and over. The same trite reason that was a lie. She did not want to go back to Connecticut to satisfy a vow made by a different woman who had not discovered the bliss of real love.

“All right,” he said gently. “Let's go in for supper. I do not want to ruin your most wonderful day by making you miserable. I just wish you would let me make you happier.”

“I am doing the best I can, Nicholas.”

“When have you done anything else?” He smiled suddenly. “Are you ready for the ball at Marchwood Hall on Saturday?”

She nodded. “My gown is nearly done. Mademoiselle Pacquette is outdoing herself. I even should be able to dance, if you wish.”

“Of course we will dance. I will want to show off the most beautiful woman ever to grace that house.” He twirled her around so her full skirts brushed the furniture. He laughed as he opened the door and led her to the dining room where the others waited for Lord Foxbridge and his lady.

Chapter Thirteen

Nicholas smiled brightly as he entered his mother's sitting room. “Good morning, Mother,” he said pleasantly. He kissed the cheek she held up. “I was told you wished to speak to me about an hour ago. Have you been waiting all this time? I'm sorry it has taken so long, but there is always something that demands being done.”

“Sit down, son.” Lady Margaret had a grim expression on her face. When Nicholas was seated, she said, “I think we should talk about what being Lord Foxbridge should mean to you, Nicholas. You have been home for a while now, so you must be coming aware of what the responsibilities of Lord Foxbridge should be.”

“What they should be?” he queried. His brows drew together, for he knew that his mother was going to use this new tack to defame Rebecca.

“Let me put this bluntly, son. Have you considered having your marriage to that woman annulled?”

“That woman is my wife, and I don't wish to change that.” He nearly laughed aloud. If she only knew the truth. Rebecca wished the same thing, or had. A flush of pleasure filled him as he thought of how eager she was for his kisses and to share his life. “I'm very fond of Rebecca. I have told you this before.”

Lady Margaret smiled mirthlessly. “I know you think you love her, but have you considered what it will be like when we return to London? Rebecca will not fit in there. She is a bumpkin, not suited for the role of the wife of Lord Foxbridge. Divorce her, Nicholas. It isn't that difficult. Use your need for an heir as the excuse. Keep her as your mistress, if you wish. She is a cute thing, so I can understand the physical attraction you have for her. Just dissolve your marriage, and remarry someone capable of handling the duties of Lady Foxbridge.”

Softly, Nicholas asked, “Are you done? Let me tell you my opinion. I think you are letting your hatred for Rebecca blind you. She is not part of the peerage, I admit, but she is trying to learn. She will do well in London. I won't divorce her or seek an annulment.” He shrugged with studied nonchalance. “We were married by an army chaplain. I have no idea how to go about such a course of action, even if I was interested.”

“Army chaplain?” She smiled. “That might make it easier to dissolve this marriage. You were injured, so you could not have been cognizant of what you were doing when you decided to marry a girl who had been so kind to you. Yes, it could be worked if it was handled correctly.”

Nicholas stood. “Forget it, Mother. I shan't divorce Rebecca.” He grinned with the fire of rage in his black eyes. “I anticipated your desire to see me rid of my wife. That's why I had Doyle and his associates out from London. You were mightily curious as to what we were doing, weren't you? You knew I did not bring them here simply to deliver the jewelry that now belongs to Rebecca.”

“I thought if you wanted me to know you would tell me,” she said stiffly.

“I want you to know now. I formalized all the paperwork that makes Rebecca North Wythe and her progeny my heirs. Whether we are married or not, the day I die, all of my assets, including this estate and our holdings elsewhere, are hers.”

“That's insane!” she cried. “You will give everything to that woman and nothing to your sister?”

He laughed stiffly. “Don't worry. If something happened to me today, Rebecca would see that you and Eliza were well taken care of. Could I have trusted you to do the same for her? Hardly.” He paused, then his demonic smile widened. “This discussion, Mother, has raised some points that I have heard too often from others overly interested in my marital relationship. I think it might not be a bad idea if Rebecca and I were remarried. Let everyone see that I am sincere in my devotion to my wife.”

“No!” she stated. “I won't allow it! You are not going to make Foxbridge Cloister into a joke, Nicholas, by wedding that ignorant wench here. It's bad enough that you shamed us all by bringing her here in the first place. Now you have shown that you are so under her control that you give her everything your family has worked for for centuries. I shan't allow this idiocy to take place.”

Nicholas did not raise his voice. The decision had been made. She could abide by it or not as she wished. “I am Lord Foxbridge, as you are so fond of reminding me. I will do as I see fit to insure the best for Foxbridge Cloister. I have said that I wish to set everyone's tongues to rest. If you do not want to attend, I can arrange for the house in London to be opened for your use. There's no need for you to be involved if you do not wish.” He turned and walked to the door. “Good day, Mother.”

The door slammed loudly. Lady Margaret scowled at the heavy panel. Her son was besotted with his backwoods wife. If Nicholas would not listen to reason, perhaps she could convince his wife to do so. With a sly smile, she sent for Rebecca. There always was more than one way to solve a problem.