Although she could pretend with others, Rebecca knew it was useless to try to fool herself. What had happened last night and today had shaken her to her very soul. It had shown her that the man she loved was mortal and that the love they were still discovering could be snatched away without warning.
She sighed as she went back out to the main room of the suite. A knock kept her from opening his door. When she saw Brody at the hallway door, she urged him to come in. “Nicholas is awake,” she said quietly.
“So I heard, my lady.” He glanced at the hallway. “Can he have a visitor?”
“His family is in there now.” She hesitated, for she did not want to insult the kindly butler. “If you can wait a few—”
“Not me, my lady, although I’d be glad to visit him. It’s Hermes.”
“Hermes?” She smiled as she saw the dog appear in the doorway at the sound of his name.
“Came up to the front door and waited until it opened. Then he scooted right in. He had a hard time on the stairs, so I managed to catch him, but he didn’t want to leave.” Wryly he grinned, his face becoming more wrinkled. “He wants to see his master.”
Rebecca bent to look into the liquid brown of the dog’s bright eyes. “You want to see Nicholas, Hermes? I don’t see why not this once.” She put her finger directly in front of his long nose. “Just don’t jump on the bed.” Getting the wag of a tail as her only answer, she slipped her hand beneath his collar.
Thanking the butler, she went to Nicholas’ door. Knocking, she entered. All her fears dissolved as she saw her husband. Although he was pale as he had been when she had nursed him back from death so long ago, he was smiling, joking, and so alive as he talked to his family.
“Come in, sweetheart,” he called.
Eliza turned around in surprise. “Rebecca! You startled me!” She laughed. “Why didn’t you come in the connecting door after you had changed?”
Nicholas answered quickly. He knew Rebecca would not want anyone to know that they kept separate bedrooms. Although that situation would soon be rectified, it was no one’s business, not even his innocent sister’s. Eliza did not realize what her question implied to his wife.
As if it was of little importance, he asked, “Did you forget that I moved the desk back over by the window yesterday, Rebecca?” To the others, he explained, “She was doing some needlework, and with the overcast weather the past few days, she found this window the best place to be. It’s amazing how quickly we get used to change.”
Rebecca flashed him a brilliant smile of gratitude before she looked at the dog nearly hidden by her skirts. “Nicholas, you have a visitor.”
When she released the dog, he bounded directly to the bed, nearly bowling over Lady Margaret. Rebecca winced, knowing she would be blamed for Hermes’ enthusiasm. The older woman had no chance to scold her as Nicholas eagerly greeted his dog, who rested his head on the bed. He laughed when she recounted the tale Brody had shared with her.
After a few minutes of light conversation, Rebecca turned to his family. “If you do not mind, I think Nicholas should get some rest. He needs to heal. Curtis, will you take Hermes out to the stable?” She smiled as the young man endured an eager lick from the large dog, then continued, “I am sure Nicholas will be glad to see you all again this afternoon.”
“Don’t you think he can speak for himself, Rebecca? It is his shoulder that was injured, not his head.” Once again, there was bitterness in Lady Margaret’s words.
The distaste that she had felt for her unwanted daughter-in-law had deepened because of the duel into undisguised hatred. Each word was like a whip biting into the sensitive surface of Rebecca’s soul, but there was no way to defend herself from this acrimony. To retort would only add more tension to the situation. To suffer silently was making her more miserable with each passing day.
Nicholas saw the pain on his wife’s face, and he scowled. He wondered what had been said when he had been returned senseless to Foxbridge Cloister. That Rebecca had mentioned no discord did not surprise him. She was doing all she could to be pleasant to his mother. It had been to no avail.
“Mother, Rebecca is speaking sense,” he said to ease the tense situation. “She’s as concerned with my well-being as you. She is also correct. I’m very tired. I think I’m going to enjoy my time as an invalid to catch up on some well-deserved rest, so I can resume my responsibilities as soon as I am declared well by the doctor.”
His smile to Rebecca brought a warm blush she could not hide. Nobody else in the room said anything, but Nicholas had made it clear that his beloved wife was one of his first concerns when he was hale once more.
With a sniff of disdain that was becoming habitual when she was around Rebecca, Lady Margaret swept out of the room. Curtis and Eliza left quickly with words of good will to diminish the rancor filling the room. They closed the door behind them.
Rebecca patted the bedcovers and said, quietly, “Rest. You need worry about nothing. Don’t be offended that Foxbridge Cloister can run quite efficiently without you for a few days.”
“It did well for six years without me, sweetheart.” He dismissed his wound as if it was unimportant. “Are you all right? Let me speak to Mother about how she is treating you.”
“No!” she stated vehemently. “I don’t want her to be kind to me only because of an order from Lord Foxbridge.” She shrugged. “Nothing can change how she feels. Please, do not worry about it or me or anything else. Rest. If you are in a lot of pain, ring and I will see you get a posset.”
He crooked his finger toward her. “Come here a moment.” When she went to him with a smile, he drew her face down to his. “It is the honeyed taste of your lips that relieves the pain the best, Rebecca.”
“Whenever it hurts, call me then.”
“It may hurt often.”
She ran her fingers along the skin of his wind-roughened face. “Call me every time, darling. Call me as often as you wish.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said as he put his hand against the back of her head to move her lips in a delicate stroke on his and ignite an unsated craving that called out for two to find the answer as one.
Chapter Sixteen
The days after the duel fell into a normal rhythm with the exception that Nicholas was not a part of their daily activities. Rebecca spent most of her free time with him in his room. Despite his vital nature, she found him to be as good a patient as when she nursed him so long ago. She read to him or told him about amusing incidents in the house. His other visitors she supervised very carefully. She allowed his family to come in to see him twice each day, as well as some of the workers on the grounds. There was some business that only Nicholas could handle, but she limited those visits also.
Nobody from outside Foxbridge Cloister was allowed to see Lord Foxbridge for the first few days. Only when she heard from Sims that it was rumored that the lord had died in the duel did she let an occasional caller see him. She chose wisely those she knew would spread the news quickest of Lord Foxbridge’s obvious viability.
Outside his room she was having the most difficulty. Lady Margaret was not the only one who delighted in insinuating that Lady Foxbridge was at fault for the whole set of circumstances. She learned swiftly that those who spoke to her most cruelly were close friends of her mother-in-law and had not been present at Marchwood Hall to see what actually had transpired. She continued to be pleasant, although she often had to grit her teeth to contain her outrage as she poured tea for the ones who took delight in her sorrow.
That afternoon had been different. Eliza had been with her to greet callers. Usually the younger woman spent the afternoon with Curtis as they acted as Nicholas’ eyes to survey the work on the harvest. It rained so hard that she stayed home, but the weather had not kept the latest group of vultures avid for blood from descending on Foxbridge Cloister and its lady.
As had become a habit, Rebecca endured the only slightly veiled comments without retorting. When Eliza exploded in rage, i
t startled all of them. Few knew that she had inherited the volatile Wythe temper as well as the coloring that was so instantly recognizable.
“How can you say that about Rebecca?” she demanded of their guests. “How can you even hint that Rebecca would do anything to risk Nicholas? If you took half a minute to think, you would know that she loves Nicholas dearly. I am tired of hearing derogatory comments about my sister-in-law! If you can’t be nice to Rebecca, you are welcome to leave Foxbridge Cloister and not come back until you have learned some manners!”
“Eliza!” scolded Rebecca softly. She did not want the young woman to be hurt by the vicious gossipers as well.
“No need, Lady Foxbridge,” said the most voluble of the vultures. “We are leaving. You have made it most clear that you do not want us here.” She rose in the epitome of wounded dignity and flounced out of the room with her flock in tow.
Instantly Eliza tried to apologize for her words, which had ricocheted to be used against Rebecca again. Rebecca waved aside her apology. “Don’t worry, Eliza. They wouldn’t think well of me even if an archangel testified on my behalf. Too many poisoned tales have been spread of me for the truth to heal the wounds.”
“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I will speak to Mother about her friends. There’s no need for you to take this abuse.”
As she had with Nicholas, she said, “Don’t. Lady Margaret would not take such criticism easily.” When Eliza nodded, Rebecca was glad she did not have to speak the true reason. For Eliza to broach the subject would cause only more trouble, for the older woman would see it as an attempt by Lady Foxbridge to turn all her family against her. There was nothing any of them could do except wait for Lady Margaret to change her mind, if she ever would.
Finally the uneasy day was drawing to a close. Earlier Brody had given her a letter which had arrived in the mail packet. He had been smiling, so she had known immediately it was a special missive. When she had seen the handwriting and the postmark, she had nearly cried with joy. It was from Hart and was the first time she had heard from home since she had come to Foxbridge Cloister. She had sent several letters, but it was likely that none of them arrived in Connecticut. The transatlantic mail was notoriously slow.
Rebecca took her letter and went to her room to read it before she went to sleep. It had been a long day as she had tried to learn the multitude of duties she still had to master.
There had been good news when the gray-haired Dr. Withers had pronounced Nicholas able to get out of bed for good tomorrow. He had been up, but had been advised to take his recovery slowly. She had seen the signs of continuing improvement, but was happy when the doctor seconded her opinion.
In the past week, she and the doctor had become good friends to the point where she had been able to convince him to call her Rebecca instead of Lady Foxbridge. When he had hinted that he would be most honored to be the physician at the birth of the heir to Foxbridge Cloister, she had simply smiled. Lately, there had been a great deal of interest in this nonexistent child who, if a boy, would one day inherit his father’s title.
Sitting on her bed, she unbuttoned her shoes. As eager as she was to read that note, she was more tired. She would get ready for bed, then read it before blowing out the candle. Quickly she rushed through her normal routine after she had redressed in one of the lovely nightgowns Mademoiselle Pacquette had made for her. She brushed the tangles from her hair before tying it back with a single ribbon so it cascaded down her back in a rich, chocolate river.
Her face was bright with happiness as she broke the wax on the seal at the back of the letter. Unfolding it, she began to read Hart’s splendid handwriting. Her smile faded as she saw this note did not contain news from home, but had been written shortly after she had left with Nicholas and was the confirmation of what she had fought so long to believe was untrue. Now that it no longer mattered, she was forced to see the reality she had denied so vehemently.
Dear Rebecca,
I am writing this letter to tell you what you should have known long ago. First, let me say I am sorry. What I did was wrong and more cruel to you than any childish prank I teased you with when we were young. At the time, I thought you would not be unhappy with the situation. I had no idea that you loved Nicholas, or I would never have done what I did. Instead I would have faced my own problems in my own way. The sacrifice I asked of you was too great.
Now I can explain that my support for your marriage to Keith Bennett was not entirely voluntary. During the war years when the harvests were lean, I borrowed money from him so we could eat. When he demanded payment, I did not have enough set aside to pay him back. I asked for more time. In another season, there would have been more than enough to settle my debts and for us to survive on until the next harvest.
He offered me an alternative. He wanted you. Forgive me, sister, but I agreed to the plan for him to court you. I know you had great affection for him, but he was not a kind man. The image he presented at our house was not the real Keith Bennett. I know he told you he could not marry you until he had built you a home. The truth was that I insisted on the time in case of a windfall.
That is the other thing I must beg your forgiveness for, Rebecca. I found your marriage lines and letters from Nicholas one day when I was searching the house to find any money I could use to pay off Bennett. At that time, I thought your husband had married you only in order to have someone to leave his estate to when he died. That was why, when Nicholas showed up at your wedding, I did not protest once I knew who he was. I knew beforehand of that childhood marriage of yours.
Forgive me, Rebecca. By this time, I hope you are happy with Nicholas and have forgotten a man who wed Shirley Fitch two weeks after you left. Her father has the money Bennett craves. Although how he knew to do it I will never guess, the money Nicholas left has gotten Bennett off my and Aunt Dena’s back, so all is well with us. Tell him he has our gratitude for what he did to help us when he had no reason to do so, other than his marriage to you.
Write soon and tell us about your life as a fine lady. There is a great deal of curiosity here about your new life. We hope you are happy with your husband, although we miss you. Aunt Dena sends her love and told me to tell you that she wonders when she will become a great-aunt of the heir of an English lord.
I remain
Your loving brother,
Hart
The slip of paper fell from her nerveless fingers to her lap as she stared at the wall. Her first thought was that everything Nicholas had told her was true. He had told her of the deal between Hart and Keith, but she had refused to believe him. Keith had tried to ruin her life by having her believe that he loved her enough to come to England and take her back to America as his wife. He nearly had succeeded. Only Nicholas’ kindness and patience had saved her from ignoring the love which had come into her life when she was too young to look for it.
From her collar, she drew the key to the connecting door. It was time for that door to be thrown open, and to put this folly of a separate life into the past where it belonged. Her life was entwined with Nicholas’s life, as it had been from the moment she had discovered him in the barn.
She was surprised how her hands shook as she slipped the key into the lock. It was not fear as it would have been when she first arrived. She quivered with the anticipation of a loving life with her husband. She gasped as the door opened before she could turn the doorknob.
On the other side of the doorway, dressed in his long lounging coat over his breeches, stood Nicholas. He smiled at her expression of astonishment. “You have no idea of the number of nights I have lain awake waiting for the sound of that key turning uselessly in the latch. The door has never been locked, Rebecca. That key does nothing. If there was a key to this door, it disappeared years ago.”
“It has never been locked?” Undisguised shock muted her voice.
“No, my love. The only thing that has been locked away has been your heart. Are you offering it to me tonight?”
She stepped for
ward to put her fingers against his chest bared by his open jacket. “Do you want my badly patched, foolish heart, Nicholas? Can you love a woman as silly as I have been?”
“Darling, I have loved you for nearly five years. First as a sweet child, then as the lovely woman you are now.” He drew her into his room and closed the door behind her. “Tell me again that you love me, too, Rebecca. I never can hear those words from your lips often enough.”
“Nicholas, I love you. I cannot help it, although I have been trying to fight it because I felt obligated to Keith. This changed that.” She handed him the letter.
After he read it, he asked, “Are you coming to me for love or from loneliness?”
“For love. You know I love you. I am so glad I told you days ago, so you would not think that you are a second choice for me.” She grinned, impishly. “Don’t you know you have always been the first one with me? My first patient, my first husband and,” she said, as her voice softened to the texture of warm butter melting in the sunshine, “now I want you to be my first lover. Love me, please, Nicholas. I am tired of being your wife in name only.”
“My lady, your wish is mine. Although I shan’t be able to hold you as easily as I would want, tonight you will become my Lady Foxbridge.”
Taking her hand in his, he led her to his bed that dwarfed hers. When they stood next to it, he kissed her in the way she could not forget. Her arms slipped around his waist as he held her close to him.
“Where does it hurt too bad for me to touch you?” she breathed into his hair as he tantalized her skin with his lightning-quick kisses.
“I would like to say nowhere, but that isn’t true.” He gazed down into her eyes. “My left shoulder and upper arm. Anywhere else will be wonderful, darling.”
When he leaned her back onto the bed, her hands drew him down to rest over her on the cool sheets. His fingers slowly untied the ribbon holding her hair in its maidenly style. After tonight, sweet Rebecca would be a maiden no longer.
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