His future wife. He had said those very words. And what's more, Lavinia Madely had heard him.
A triumphant smile crossed her face. What did it matter if she had not been able to force Joshua into a compromising situation? She had been able to do something far better: avail herself of his signet ring.
She slipped it onto her long white finger. It was rather large, but never mind. It could be made to serve her purpose, and that was all she cared about.
Exultantly she swept back into the ballroom — only to discover, after much fruitless searching, that Miss Lavinia Madely had already left.
But no matter. Lavinia was due to attend Rebecca Fossington's card party the following evening.
Serena, in triumphant mood, was prepared to wait.
Chapter Eleven
The following afternoon, Rebecca was sitting in the drawing-room laying to read. But it was no use. Her novel, entertaining though it was, could not hold her attention, and with a sigh she put it down before pacing restlessly across the room. Arriving at the fireplace she straightened the porcelain figurines on the mantelpiece before crossing the room again to straighten the cushions on the sofa. She moved restlessly from the sofa to the piano, where she straightened the music on the stand. And all the time her thoughts were filled with the events of the night before.
She remembered it all so clearly. Mr Willingham's treachery, her own prompt actions, Joshua's mastery of the situation, and then the aftermath: Joshua's tender looks, the way he had taken her hands, his impassioned words. Could it be possible? Could his feelings towards her have changed? Could he now see her as something more then Jebadiah's grand-daughter? Could he love her as much as she loved him? She hardly dared to hope it. And yet why else would he have stroked her hands so tenderly? Why else spoken those impassioned words?
Oh, why had Louisa had to have a headache the night before? she asked herself. Chiding herself a moment later for the unkind thought. If it was as she suspected, then Joshua would speak to her that evening at the card party. And if not... No, she would not even think such a thing.
She went over to the mantelpiece and straightened the ormolu clock.
Fortunately — for there was nothing left to straighten! — Louisa bustled into the room at that moment, saying, “Oh, my dear, can you give me a hand? The servants are carrying the card tables into the sitting-room, but I cannot decide on the best arrangement.”
Rebecca was only too glad to offer her help, and before long the tables had been successfully organized. Then there was the greenery to be arranged — the two ladies would have liked to provide flowers, but the season unfortunately provided very little in this way — and the catering arrangements to be checked. There were the footmen to instruct, the wine to be seen to and the packs of cards to be placed on each table, so that all in all Rebecca was kept very busy.
By five o'clock everything was ready, and Rebecca and Louisa sat down to a light tea — a cup of the refreshing beverage, taken with a little seed cake — before retiring to their rooms to dress.
Joshua's fingers fumbled as he made a second attempt at tying his cravat.
I should be looking forward to this evening, he told himself. I'm about to offer Becky my hand and to make her my betrothed.
If she will have me.
That was the thought that plagued him as he made a mess of yet another cravat. He gave it up in disgust and, wrenching it from his neck, threw it to the floor, where it landed on top of his first discarded effort.
He took up another freshly starched piece of linen and tried again.
It did not matter how many times he told himself that of course she would have him. That she loved him, as he loved her.
And when had he realized that? he asked himself. He did not know. It had crept up on him gradually, but it had begun the first time he had set eyes on her in the inn.
He gave a wily smile as he remembered how she had stood up to him. Oh, yes, she had impressed him even then. She had made him take notice of her, and not just as an intriguing face and a voluptuous set of curves, but as a person. Their following encounters had done nothing to diminish this fact, but had rather accentuated it. Over and over again she had refused to fall in with his wishes, and yet every time she had been right. How he had admired her for her courage in standing up to him. And he had admired her in a different way for taking an interest in the world around her, and for becoming involved in the mill. It may not have been convenient for him — nothing about Rebecca was ever convenient! he thought with a wry smile — but she had taught him that men and women could be partners, something he had never realized before. He had thought of women as inferiors — he hated to admit it, but it was true, that was exactly how he had seen them — but Rebecca had taught him they were nothing of the kind.
In her he had found his equal.
But when had these feelings turned to love? He did not know. That had been more subtle. But love it had become. He wanted her, needed her, in every way. He wanted to see her there beside him when he woke up in the morning; to take breakfast with her; to be tormented by her, delighted by her, and enraptured by her for the rest of his life. And all this would be his... if only she said yes.
Memories of her previous refusals returned to haunt him, but he resolutely put all such thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on his cravat.
Damn Brummell for making the wretched things fashionable! he thought unreasonably as his fingers, made clumsy with anticipation of the evening to come, refused to tie the required knot and a third cravat followed the first two onto the floor.
He almost gave into a temptation to ring the bell for his valet, but he fought it. He did not like being dressed by someone else, and although he kept a valet, the man was there to keep his clothes clean and boots polished, and nothing more. He took a deep breath, then began again. Abandoning all attempts to tie anything complicated, he settled for a simple barrel knot. Finally his fingers did what he wanted them to do, and the cravat was successfully tied.
Having succeeded with the most difficult part of his dress, he put on his waistcoat and shrugged on his tailcoat before inspecting himself in the cheval glass. He frowned. The one thing missing was his signet ring.
He could not think how he had come to lose it. No matter. He had set Odgers to looking for it. He had more important things to think of tonight.
Running his hands through his wild mane of hair, he picked up his greatcoat and went out to the waiting carriage.
“Oh, my dear, you do look nice,” said Louisa appreciatively as the two ladies waited for their guests to arrive. Rebecca was dressed in an exquisitely simple high-waisted gown. Its skirt was of white satin and its bodice was of dark red. Dark red sleeves, decorated with a white ribbon, set it off to perfection. As a finishing touch, a dark red ribbon was threaded through Rebecca's ebony hair.
“Thanks to Susan's ministrations and Madame Dubois's hard work,” replied Rebecca with a smile. “And you are looking radiant.”
“Do you think so?” asked Louisa, eyes shining. Her dress, an amber satin, had a double row of flounces round the hem, matched by a frill round the discreet neckline. “You don't think it too fussy?”