Rebecca (32 page)

“How is he?” asked Curtis as the young woman went for her mother.

She smiled. “He should be fine. Have you checked the gun?”

“You aren't going to like what I found. I took the gun out behind the stables and tried it myself. It fired perfectly. If you had pulled the trigger one more time, you would have killed Royce.”

Her face paled as she turned away to lean against the wall. All the joy she had known in Nicholas' arms vanished as she thought of how close she had come to killing Baron Royce. As much as she had threatened to see the man dead, she would have been haunted all her life if she had shot him outright.

Curtis put his arm comfortingly around her shoulders and drew her close. His hands sympathetically caressed the tense muscles of her back. “I know you want to think that Royce set up Nicholas, but it appears it was just a bit of bad luck. It could just as easily have been the baron who had chosen that gun.” He turned her face to him and gazed down into her incredibly beautiful face. Although Eliza was the women he hoped would one day be his bride, he could not help admiring the loveliness of Lady Foxbridge. Any man who looked at her wanted to possess her. He put those thoughts from his mind. “Luck was on Nicholas' side after all. Royce was aiming his gun to kill him.”

“Why does he hate Nicholas so? Do you know?”

The man started at her blunt question. “Me? Do I know?” He forced a smile which covered his own turbulent emotions. Exactly what he knew, he was not going to divulge. “My dear Rebecca, I know Royce from the season in London, of course, but as to why he would choose you and Nicholas to torment, your guess is as good as mine.”

She sighed. The door to the hallway opened, and the two Wythe women entered. This was yet another trial she had to face. After her sharp words to her mother-in-law earlier, she knew she would have to apologize profusely.

Lady Margaret said, “He's awake?”

“Yes,” Rebecca answered meekly. “He wants to see you. You can go in, if you wish.”

“If I wish?” she demanded with a frigid sniff. “Do you forget I am his mother? Of course I wish to see my son. I am not accustomed to being kept from my children's bedsides by the very ones who endangered them in the first place.”

Stung by the venom of the words, Rebecca backed away from the closed door to allow them to enter. When the three had gone in, she went instead to her own room. Ringing for Collette, she ordered her bath and fresh clothes to make herself presentable for the multitudes who would be swarming to the house to obtain all the gory, grisly details of the duel. The gossipmongers would have spread quickly the story of the jammed gun and the wounding of Lord Foxbridge.

From beyond the closed door connecting her room to Nicholas', she could hear the soft murmur of his family's voices. It was a family to which she would never be welcomed. Sometimes Eliza treated her very kindly, but Lady Margaret seemed determined never to forget that Rebecca was far from the proper wife for the respectable Lord Foxbridge.

She thanked Collette when everything was arranged. Undressing, she slipped into the tub. The water was deliciously warm, and she longed to be clean of the blood which had stained her hands so deeply that a quick rinsing in the bowl in the other room had failed to scour it away.

Soaping the remains of the powder from her hair, she wished she could wash away all of the events of the last day with the exception of her declaration of love for Nicholas and his for her. It seemed as if the fates were determined to keep them from bringing that love to full fruition. She smiled at the bubbles that were being rinsed from her hair. It was just a matter of time before the nights would be sweeter than the honeysuckle blossoms woven in the hedgerows.

She dressed in a formal gown of light green which would signal to her inevitable guests that there was no reason to be mournful. When she brushed her hair back, she ran through it a velvet ribbon that matched the bows on her gown. Standing before her mirror, she was satisfied with her appearance. She wanted to look as if the lady of Foxbridge Cloister did not consider this whole event to have any importance to her, her husband or the estate.

Her riding habit was on the floor where she had dropped it. She bent to pick it up and place it over a chair. As she did, she saw the wide splotch of blood staining the skirt where Nicholas' shoulder had rested against her during the ride from the dueling green. She fought to keep from crying as she let it fall to the floor again.

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, it 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.