Even when they had been in the midst of their torrid affair, he had known that she welcomed others to her bed when he was not there to share it. Clarisse had been a major source of his desire to escape from Foxbridge Cloister and buy a commission in the army which would send him far from her sugary talons. Upon discovering that he was the possessor of the title of Lord Foxbridge, she would have been even more determined to make their previous liaison permanent.
His smile had nothing to do with humor as he gazed at Rebecca. Although she did not know it, she would be his tool to pay back Clarisse for humiliating him by taking other lovers to her bed after she had spent the day riding by his side. She would learn as others had that Nicholas Wythe was not a man to play for the fool.
“No, Eliza,” he said with no suggestion of the rage within him, “I had no understanding with Miss Beckwith. I never made any promises to her. If I had, I would not have wed another. Aren’t you going to greet Rebecca?”
“Of course,” said Lady Margaret quickly. She turned to regard the young woman holding so securely to her son’s hand. There was no denying that this woman was a beauty, although her clothes were outlandish. Her wide blue eyes showed that she was impressed with Foxbridge Cloister and its inhabitants. That pleased Lady Margaret, for such a child could be molded in the way the older woman deemed proper. Later she would discover where Nicholas had found such an unsophisticated lass. “Excuse me, dear. This is admittedly a shock. Welcome to Foxbridge Cloister, Rebecca.”
“Thank you,” she replied with quiet dignity while her thoughts were on Eliza’s words. She wondered who this Clarisse was. Poor Clarisse must be another one hurt by her husband’s stubborn insistence that they continue this farce of a marriage. Until now, she had not given the women in Nicholas’ past much thought, but she could not help being curious about this Clarisse. She obviously had been very important to him. It was not the time to ask. She tried to remind herself that she should not complain if he took a mistress, for it would mean that he would not be as eager to share her bed. Strangely, that thought bothered her, but she had no time to examine her odd feelings.
The older woman was motioning for the newcomers to join her and Eliza by the fireplace, but Rebecca hesitated again. Nicholas smiled and put his arm around her shoulders. With a gentle push, he propelled her forward. He bent to whisper in her ear, “Don’t forget our bargain, sweetheart. You are my loving wife, remember?”
“I’m trying to do my best,” she murmured in desperation. If he reneged on the agreement, she could be tied to him forever.
His arched eyebrows displayed his disbelief, and she subsided into frustrated silence. She did not know how he could expect her to act normally. Not only had she never seen a house this big, but most of the time she had no idea what his family spoke about. Until she was more sure of herself, she wanted only to sit and smile so she would not make a fool of herself. Seeing the curiosity in the eyes of the Wythe women, she knew her plan was doomed to immediate failure. They intended to make her the center of their conversation.
Once they were seated, Eliza asked, “Honestly, I think it was horrid of you, Nicholas, to marry without having us present. I so love weddings. I don’t believe we’ve met before, Rebecca. You aren’t from around here, are you? Are you from London?”
Nervously, she wet her lips before answering. “I’m from Connecticut.” Seeing the women’s confusion, she added, “Connecticut, in the United States of America.”
Nicholas’ mother’s blue eyes widened in shock. “You’re a colonist?”
“She was,” Nicholas replied smoothly. He took Rebecca’s trembling hand and caressed it. As he gazed down into her eyes, only she could see the yearning he made no attempt to hide. Suddenly she thought she should be glad if he would reestablish his relationship with this Clarisse woman. She wondered how much longer he would be able to accept her adamant refusal to let him spend the night with her. It frightened her how well he could read her every emotion. He continued calmly, although humor brightened his face, “Her home is here now.”
With a delicate sniff, the older woman said, “That’s just as well. I wouldn’t like to think of my son and daughter-in-law having to deal with those rebellious colonials.” She smiled at the disconcerted young woman. “It must have been so difficult to live with that riffraff.”
Rebecca bit back her retort, knowing that Nicholas must not have written of her in whatever missives he had sent home. His mother and sister had not even known that he was bringing a wife. She wondered why he had not seen that it was advisable to prepare his family a little.
Her eyes narrowed in rage as she heard the two women discuss the low level of mentality of the colonists who had resisted the good policies of their king. She did not consider her family of any lesser quality than Nicholas’s, even though they lived in comparatively primitive conditions and did not possess such fine clothes. Certainly she did not consider them the dolts that Lady Margaret labeled all supporters of General Washington. Rebecca’s father had been a brave man who had been respected by his superiors and subordinates alike. Although she had no firm memories of her mother, Mira North had been a well-loved woman in their small community.
“Mother, Eliza, I think you have said enough,” warned Nicholas, as he saw the sparkle of anger in his wife’s eyes. He was surprised that she had been able to stay silent this long, for he had discovered that his own heated temper had met its match. Although she might appear docile, Rebecca North Wythe projected that image only because she had been taught that a lady must be polite at all times. When she could contain her vociferous emotions no longer, then they exploded to astound everyone. He was thrilled with her fiery spirit, for it was far more amusing to be wed to a spitting tiger than a quiet lamb.
“Now, son, I won’t be told what I can or cannot say about those Yankees Doodles in my own house. Lazy fools, all of them.”
“Mother,” he cautioned again, “please watch what you say about the Continental Army, or the United States Army, as I should call them. Rebecca’s father was an officer with General Gates, who so successfully defeated our forces at Saratoga. I have heard much of Major North’s valor and intelligence, and I have no doubts the description is valid, for his daughter has both.”
Rebecca glanced at him in astonishment. He had never complimented her in front of others. What remarks he had made to her privately would have embarrassed her if overheard by anyone else. He seldom admired anything but her physical attributes, which he made no secret that he wanted to explore intimately. That he would defend her to his mother and sister was a double shock.
He stood and walked over to stir the fire on the hearth. The eyes of all the women followed him as he assumed a nonchalant pose best befitting the new lord of Foxbridge Cloister. Leaning easily against the oak mantel, he said, “All of Rebecca’s family, including this sweet lady, espouse the ideas of liberty put forth by their Continental Congress. Political ideology and who was right and who was wrong is something Rebecca and I don’t discuss. She graciously has refrained from rubbing my nose in the fact that I was fighting on the losing side. It cost me too many years of my life in a dank, rat-infested prison which would have made Newgate Prison seem a true Eden in comparison.”
“You are a revolutionary?” gasped Eliza. She looked at her surprising sister-in-law with new interest. Nicholas’s sister knew little about the war which had been fought in far-off America, and had cared little about it. All she had wanted was for it to be over so that her brother could come home. Somehow, she had not expected a real Continental to look like Rebecca Wythe. She was not sure how she had thought a colonist would appear, for her only view of them was formed by the cruel caricatures in the London newspapers.
Rebecca smiled slightly in response to the young woman’s question, but her thoughts were on her husband. She was disturbed by Nicholas’ description of his time as a prisoner of war. She had given no thought to what he must have endured during those years. Her eyes explored his face, which
was nicely tanned by their time at sea, but she wondered how long he had been free before arriving at the perfect moment at the church. He had not come directly from the prison hulks. He knew too much about the Norths and their business. He must have spent time investigating her past and present before he came to wrench her future from her. Somewhere he had gotten the beautifully tailored clothes that he always wore.
Feeling her eyes on him, Nicholas looked at his wife. A slow smile inched across his lips as he saw the sympathy she could not hide. Gentle, innocent Rebecca had no idea what he had had to do to survive the bleak years when each day brought the promise of only more degradation for men who ached to see the sunshine and feel fresh air on their faces. The smell of dying flesh and human waste would fill his senses forever. If he had his way, she would never learn of what he had suffered. She would never know that it was the memory of her sweet, childish smile that had given him the impetus to hold onto life while his comrades surrendered to despair and death. During his captivity, he had not felt desire to have Rebecca as his lover. He had known simply that someone nearby cared whether he lived or died.
He listened as she replied to his sister. By the sound of her voice, nobody but he could guess the stress she felt. As he had thought, Rebecca was able to handle this difficult situation with apparent ease.
“We preferred to be called Patriots, Eliza. Of course, I had to put that behind me when I came here with Nicholas. The war is thankfully over, and America seems so far away.”
It was impossible to miss the tint of sadness which discolored her voice. Only Nicholas guessed it was not simply homesickness for her family. The pain of losing Bennett as her husband apparently had not lessened. Every day made her sorrow deeper. He was beginning to think he should have renounced her and left her to face her future with that clod. Then he knew that would be impossible. He wanted Rebecca as his wife, not as some other man’s.
Eliza leaned forward to speak to Rebecca. “Have you met Mrs. Washington or Mrs. Adams?”
Smiling, Rebecca shook her head. She was about to reply that that was as silly a question as if she had asked Eliza whether she had met Queen Charlotte. She stopped herself before the words had left her lips, for it was possible that Nicholas’ sister has been to court on many occasions. Softly she said only, “I haven’t had the honor. Mrs. Washington lives in Virginia and Mrs. Adams in Massachusetts. They were not likely to be visiting our cabin in the backwoods.”
“Cabin?” Lady Margaret stared at Rebecca as if she had suddenly turned a strange shade of green, then glared accusingly at her son. “What kind of joke are you playing, Nicholas? This is no longer amusing! Who is this woman?” She picked up a fan which had been resting on a table beside her and wafted it briskly in front of her flustered face.
Calmly, Nicholas replied, “Don’t get so upset. She is my wife, Mother. Rebecca lived with her family in what you would term the backwoods. We met when she saved my life and married me five years ago. When I was released, I went back for her before I came home.”
“Five years ago?” echoed his outraged mother, as she rose. “Were you crazy, Nicholas? Look at her! She must have been a child then.”
His eyes darkened with the fury he tried to restrain. His mother was being resistant to the idea of Rebecca as his wife, but she would have to learn he was not a youngster to be ordered about or threatened with going to bed without his supper if he did not behave as she wished. Even if she did not like Rebecca being his wife, she must accept it.
He walked slowly to where Rebecca was watching the exchange with growing despair. Taking her hand, he brought her to stand next to him. He put his arm around her shoulders as he caressed her arm lovingly. The pose told his family that he was sincere in his devotion to her. “She is a child no longer, as you can see. I had my reasons for marrying Rebecca which are no one’s concern but ours. Despite its unorthodox beginning, we are satisfied with the circumstances. Don’t act so shocked, Mother.”
Lady Margaret bristled. “What can you expect when you bring home a Yankee mudfarmer’s daughter and tell us she is the new Lady Foxbridge?”
“Mother!” exclaimed Eliza. “This is Nicholas’ wife.” Her mother glared at her as if she was a traitor and left the room without speaking. Seeing the stricken expression on her new sister-in-law’s face, Eliza added, “Forgive Mother. Since the news came that Brad was killed in that ridiculous duel, she has been like this.” More fervently, she said, “I’m glad you are home, Nicholas. Maybe you can convince her it is worthless to mourn like this. Nothing is going to bring Brad back. I wish she could accept that fact.” She sighed. “Why don’t you take Rebecca upstairs and let her rest? You’ll have the master suite, of course.”
“Of course,” he repeated, but his eyes were on the door to the hallway.
Eliza glanced uneasily at him, then spoke to Rebecca, “Excuse me. I will go and tend to Mother.”
As soon as the young woman had left, Rebecca whispered, “Nicholas, why didn’t you warn me that your mother would be so against this marriage?”
“You aren’t the trouble, sweetheart.” He frowned. “I truly didn’t think Mother would be so opposed to you. She’ll come around to loving you. It does nothing to change our relationship, Rebecca,” he warned her quickly as he saw the light of hope flash in her eyes.
She spun away from him and crossed the room to look out the huge windows. The gardens were bright in the afternoon sunshine. There was nothing which was not alien to her. Her fingers on the windowsill clenched in frustration and misery. “Nicholas, this is insane. I don’t want to be married to you. Your mother is opposed to me. Why continue to make everyone unhappy when it would be so easy just to annul this marriage?”
He put his hands on her shoulders, which trembled with her barely suppressed emotion. Over her head, he, too, regarded the formal gardens of Foxbridge Cloister. His hands moved leisurely along her arms as he drew her back against him. In her ear, he whispered, “You left out one very important person. I don’t wish to see this marriage dissolved now, Rebecca. Right now, I am very pleased to have you as my loving wife.”
“At what price do the rest of us pay for your happiness? How much wretchedness do you plan to inflict on me and the ones who love you before you admit the folly of this whole experiment?” She faced him. Her hands unconsciously went out to touch his arms in a posture of pleading.
His arm wrapped around her waist and brought her sharply to him. When he bent to kiss her, she turned her face away from him. He grasped her face and did not let her elude him as his lips touched hers with startling gentleness. Although she fought her own feelings, she could not keep from reacting to the lure of his mouth. Her fingers tightened on his arms as she was unable to escape the rapture which enfolded her as sweetly as his arms. A soft sigh of delight floated from her parted lips while he explored her skin with obvious appreciation.
When her knees buckled against his with the passion overwhelming her, he put his arm beneath them and swept her up to be cradled against his chest. Her arms automatically went around his neck as she gasped with astonishment, “Put me down.”
He chuckled softly. “What will you do if I say no? Scream for help? I doubt if anyone will think you are in much danger from your husband. Remember the role you promised to assume.”
Tartly, she stated, “In public. I see no one else here. I think you should remember your part of this agreement as well.”
He placed her on her feet. Cupping her chin in his palm, he said seriously, “My dear Rebecca, this agreement is not carved in stone. If at any time you wish to change your mind and become the wife you should be, I will be willing to renegotiate this unwritten contract we have between us.”
“I can’t! I have told you that, Nicholas. I can’t, as much as I would like to—Oh!” She put her hand over her mouth in a motion which recalled the child she had been when he first met her.
Nicholas touched her cheek tenderly and smiled. “If you wish, I did not hear that. I know how
important it is for you to be faithful to the man who, I’m sure, has not proven as steadfast to you. Come with me, and I will show you where we will have our apartment here in Foxbridge Cloister.”
Slowly she reached out to take his hand. Her new life with Nicholas was starting.
Whether she wished it or not.
If only she knew which.
Chapter Six
Forcing down her fears, Rebecca walked with her husband back down the hallway to the main staircase. A coldness swept through her as she realized he was taking her to the room they would be sharing for as long as he kept her imprisoned in this marriage. Although he had most kindly let her have the bed alone during the long voyage, she did not think that situation would continue forever.
She wished she could begin to understand why he acted as he did. She could not hate him when he was as warmhearted as he just had been. Still, she knew it was only a matter of time before he made some snide comment about their relationship, which seemed to be floundering on a self-destructive course.
She forgot her concerns momentarily as she became enthralled by the splendor of the house. Everything was spotless, telling her there must be a large staff serving the Wythes. She peeked into the rooms they passed and viewed the velvet drapes and furniture covered in light green brocade. Silver gleamed on the mantelpieces next to fine pieces of art which even her unknowledgeable eyes could appreciate. As they passed the room more stately than the others, she paused in midstep. Drawing away from Nicholas, she walked into the room. She bumped into a chair, but her gaze remained on the portrait above the marble fireplace.
It was of a woman dressed in the spectacular style of Elizabethan England. Even from where Rebecca stood near the doorway, she could see the gown was a sumptuous, blue velvet matching the woman’s eyes. A full lace ruff surrounded her face to accent the dark upsweep of her curly hair. In her hands was a musical instrument that Rebecca could not name. A small, golden dog sat at her feet, which rested on a footstool in order to show off the fine silver of the buckles on her shoes.
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