by Fiona Miers
Thomas held his breath as he watched Rebecca slowly turn towards her maid, afraid that she would turn and walk in the opposite direction.
Much to his surprise and perhaps his utmost relief, Rebecca and her maid approached him with the easel.
“Pardon me, sir,” Rebecca said and cleared her throat. “Is that spot reserved for anyone in particular?”
She motioned to the empty patch of grass beside him and he smiled at her.
“I was supposed to meet someone here, but it seems as though she has other obligations.” Thomas answered, playing along with her game.
“She must be the most foolish person I know to not meet with a fine man such as yourself,” Rebecca said, a grin on her lovely mouth.
“You are welcome to join me, if there is no reason for you not to,” he said.
“Oh, there are plenty of reasons why I should not, but I simply choose to ignore them,” she said and motioned to the maid to set up her easel beside Thomas.
He grinned at her as she patiently waited for the maid to finish, then she sat on the stool in front of the empty canvas.
“Your painting seems to lack something,” Rebecca said as she briefly studied his artwork.
He sighed, unsurprised another artist thought the same thing. “I know. My inspiration was stunted by the sudden arrival of my mother last evening.”
“Your mother? The Dowager Duchess is in Weymouth?”
“You know of my mother?” he asked with surprise.
“Not in the least, but I am aware of the titles of your family.”
“Does my family interest you?” he asked.
“Not in the least,” she said, and giggled. “Perhaps my words came across in the wrong manner.”
Thomas could not help but wonder whether she had purposely done so to avoid being found out as a liar, or to make herself look good in front of him. His jaw clenched as he scolded himself for even thinking of it, allowing his mother to affect him and how he perceived Rebecca.
“What troubles you, Thomas?” Rebecca asked suddenly.
He looked at her and sighed. “Many things.”
“I concur. My father allowed me out of the townhouse to sketch after three days of confinement. He is being rather unreasonable. He prohibited me from having any contact with you. And I am certain he also told you to stay away from me.”
“Indeed,” Thomas said with a nod. “My mother did the same thing, although she did not apprehend you in the manner your father did to me.”
“I sincerely apologise for that. My father—”
“Please, do not apologise. You were not at fault. Nor was your father. He was merely protecting you.”
“I do not need protection. I am a grown woman,” she said.
“Indeed,” Thomas said with a sigh.
He knew precisely how Rebecca felt at the hand of her father, as it matched his own feelings at the hand of his mother. Helpless and silenced to do as they were forced.
Rebecca began to chuckle in amusement and Thomas looked at her perplexedly. “Whatever could be amusing?”
“While I should be mortified and angry and upset that your mother wishes you to stay away from me and my father wishes me to stay away from you, I cannot help but laugh at the irony of it all. We did nothing wrong, after all,” she said.
“You did not tell him of the kiss, did you?” he asked.
“Did you?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Of course not. It is none of his concern.”
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Does your mother know?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Well,” Rebecca said with a scoff and shook her head. “Perhaps I should begin to refer to you as Romeo from now on. Clearly this resembles the tale of the star-crossed lovers too much.”
“I would rather you not,” he said with a furrowed brow. “I could not stand for us to end up like them. I would rather call you a sunbeam, radiant and beautiful and always out of my reach.”
A sweet and dreamy smile formed on her lips and she tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “And I shall call you my torrent. Strong and impactful, all-consuming.”
Thomas bit his bottom lip as the glow in her eyes set his soul alight, igniting the inspiration he’d lacked for the past few days.
REBECCA FLOATED INTO the townhouse with Connie following closely behind her.
She’d spent the entire morning with Thomas, sketching on the cliff, and the time together with him had been more than delightful. She’d missed him more than she’d realised. His presence, his voice, and his laugh. Her soul was happy once more. Of course, she could not disclose that to her father, but she would blame her good mood on the fresh air and the ability to sketch. Her father knew she adored the activity and hopefully he would not question her too closely.
Connie left her side to return her easel and art supplies to her bedchambers, and Rebecca quietly sashayed along the hallway, a smile on her lips, her heart light and her soul filled with happiness.
Despite Thomas informing her that his mother did not wish for him to spend time with her, she was not as offended by the proclamation as she thought she would have been. It was, in fact, quite thrilling and exciting to spend time with Thomas without their parents’ consent or approval. She would have preferred not to do so in secret, but it seemed as though it would be the only way they would be able to spend time together.
A door slammed loudly behind her, startling her and she whirled around. Her father stood in the doorway, appearing very much in an agitated mood.
“There you are, Rebecca. I was wondering when you would return,” he said.
“Is something the matter, Father?” she asked.
“I have been called to Finlay Hall.”
Her heart began to race in her chest. “Why, Father? What has happened?”
“I am not certain, but the request arrived a short while ago. The Dowager Duchess requires attending.”
Rebecca nodded. “I do hope she is all right, and that it’s nothing serious.”
“You and I will see when we arrive.”
“I beg your pardon, Father?”
“You are to accompany me. The Dowager Duchess requested it.”
Rebecca’s mouth dried almost instantly. “Why is that?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“There is no time for all these questions. We must make haste.”
“Very well, Father. I will have to change my clothes. I will not be long.”
“I will be waiting in the carriage.”
Rebecca turned and hurried up the narrow staircase and into her bedchambers. She bit her bottom lip as she speedily changed into a more appropriate dress for the occasion and pinned her hair neatly at the nape of her neck. Although she realised that any attempt to make a good impression on the Dowager Duchess would be futile, she did so for the sake of her father. She did not wish for him to be seen in a poor light, as he had nothing to do with the current situation. In fact, they would surely agree that their children were not to be in the vicinity of each other.
Rebecca quickly rushed to the carriage after she was properly dressed and climbed inside. Her father seemed impatient, but she knew that it was only because he did not wish to keep the Dowager Duchess waiting.
Her father had spent many years building his reputation as a trustworthy and loyal man, and she certainly did not wish to damage it, although she feared she may have already done so. Irreparable damage that he was not even be aware of.
Despite the looming sense of dread inside her heart, she did not wish to give her father any indication that the Dowager Duchess already despised her. Perhaps it was due to her low status? But surely, the Dowager Duchess was not that shallow.
Rebecca exhaled and stared out at the hills passing by as the carriage made its way along the winding road towards Finlay Hall. She chose to think of the wonderful morning with Thomas instead of fretting over things that were unclear. Her father did not state the reason why the Dowager Duchess h
ad sent for them, and it could perhaps be because the old woman was ill and required medical attention.
Nevertheless, what was meant to happen would happen, and there was nothing Rebecca was able to do to change it.
“It seems as though the time on the cliff sketching has raised your spirits,” her father said.
She looked at her father and nodded. “Indeed. It was precisely what I needed.”
He smiled sadly and nodded as well. “You sound like your mother. Whenever she was upset or sad or discouraged, she would sit by her easel in the garden and sketch. For a morning, an afternoon, and even during the night. It was her time to find peace in herself. You are very much like her.”
She’d watched her mother sketch, quietly pouring her heart and soul onto the paper and canvas. She’d been graceful and beautiful, enchanting and inspiring, and it was something Rebecca longed for. Her mother had been an important part of her life, and she missed her presence profusely. Even after all this time, she longed to hear her voice, feel the warmth of her embrace.
“She was taken much too soon. I miss her every day,” Rebecca said quietly. “But I feel closer to her when I sketch.”
“Then I will not take that away from you, Rebecca. You are free to sketch wherever and when’ve you please. I firmly believe your mother would agree with me.”
She smiled sadly and said, “Thank you, Father.”
A brief silence filled the carriage until her father spoke again. “You asked why the Dowager Duchess requested your presence as well.”
“That is correct, Father.”
He looked at her and pursed his lips. “Perhaps she learnt that you are more attentive to older ladies than I am. You are kind and gentle, and you understand the vulnerability of their situations better than I ever could.”
“That is a very nice thing for you to say, Father.” Though most likely incorrect.
“I do mean it, my dearest. You have always possessed a kind heart and a curious mind, which some would consider unconventional for a young woman. But it makes you unique, and very special to me.”
“Thank you, Father,” Rebecca said with a smile, and lowered her gaze.
Her father had never expressed his adoration for her in such a lovely manner, and it was both endearing and overwhelming. Yet, she also feared that if he learnt of her disobedience and her secret meeting with Thomas – albeit by chance – he would not think so highly of her. Technically, she had not lied to him, but a lie of omission still remained a lie.
As Finlay Hall appeared in the distance, her shoulders tightened, preparing for a possible attack from the Dowager Duchess.
THERE WAS A CHEERFUL bounce in Thomas’ step as he made his way along the wide carriage path leading to the manor house. He had very much enjoyed his morning with Rebecca, although it had not been planned. During their entire conversation, Thomas had not detected any kind of deception from her, and the fact that Dr. Morton had forbidden her to see him made it clear that the family was not interested in trapping him.
His mother had obviously been wrong about Rebecca’s motives and intentions, but Thomas also knew his mother and how stubborn she was. She would not be easily swayed by anyone, not even her own sons. Perhaps there was another way that Thomas could convince her that Rebecca was a kind and genuine person, with no hidden motive.
Truthfully, Thomas would not mind if he was trapped into marriage by Rebecca. She was not only beautiful and delightful to gaze upon, but she was an intelligent and witty young woman who made him laugh. His morning had been better than he had anticipated, and it was because of her. Her presence inspired him, and her beauty motivated him to be better.
A better artist.
And a better man.
What more could one want in a wife?
Thomas approached the manor house and noticed a footman hovering at the side door. Usually there would be no one outside unless visitors were being received.
Thomas turned to an approaching manservant and handed him the easel and painting supplies. “Would you kindly return these to my chambers?” Thomas asked the manservant.
“It would be my pleasure, my lord,” the servant said, taking the easel and supplies from him.
“Thank you,” he said.
Thomas studied the footman for a short while before approaching him. “You, there,” he said. “What is the purpose of your presence?”
The footman looked at Thomas and cleared his throat. “Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess sent for the local physician, and I was instructed to wait for his arrival.”
“Dr. Morton?” Thomas asked, to which the footman nodded. “Why did she send for Dr. Morton?”
“Her Grace feels unwell and wished for the physician to come and examine her.”
Thomas narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious of his mother’s actions. He had known his mother his entire life, and she refused to have anyone except her own physician examine her. What were her intentions?
Hopefully she would not act in a manner that would insult Dr. Morton.
As he opened his mouth to respond, the sound of carriage wheels and horse hooves trampling the ground sounded in the air, growing louder with each passing moment. Thomas turned around and saw the carriage making its way towards the manor house.
Much to his surprise, Rebecca was sitting beside her father, her eyes wide and staring directly at him.
Had his mother requested her presence as well? If she had, what was the purpose?
Thomas began to grow more and more suspicious of his mother’s actions, but he wouldn’t have the opportunity to confront her before the doctor arrived. He was, however, prepared to apprehend his mother if she were to try to harm Rebecca in any manner. That was something he would not tolerate.
The carriage came to a stop and both he and the footman stepped forward. But Thomas realized it was not his place to receive them at their carriage. They were not his guests, after all. The footman assisted Rebecca from the vehicle, and Dr. Morton followed immediately after.
The cold glare he received from Dr. Morton was understandable, and it was perfectly contrasted by the warmth that lingered in Rebecca’s gaze.
“Dr. Morton, it is good to see you,” Thomas said formally.
“Indeed,” the physician said simply, stepping away from him.
“Good afternoon, Miss Rebecca,” Thomas said, greeting her with the formality he was not used to in her presence, but was certainly required.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” she said, reciprocating his formality.
“I believe my mother requested your presence, Dr. Morton,” Thomas said, desperate to find out why Rebecca had joined her father.
Rebecca had informed him earlier that her father wished for her to stay away from him, yet here she was at the estate. Was it of her own accord, or had she somehow swayed her father’s mind to allow her to visit with Thomas?
Judging by the cold manner in which Dr. Morton spoke to Thomas, that was certainly not the case. His mother had also made her disdain and disapproval of Rebecca clear, and she would not appreciate Rebecca’s presence at Finlay Hall.
“Indeed. Both of our presence, for that matter,” Dr. Morton answered.
“Is that so?” Thomas asked, as he glanced briefly at Rebecca.
“Indeed. Apparently, Her Grace is feeling unwell and wished for us both to attend to her.”
Thomas nodded. His mother was up to something that would not produce a positive outcome. What did she have planned?
His imagination was running away with him, and even though he knew that he might be over-reacting, he was well aware of his mother and her sly mannerisms. She was certainly up to something, and Thomas was determined to find out what it was. Even if that meant confronting her while Dr. Morton and Rebecca were present.
“Allow me to escort you both to my mother’s guest suite,” Thomas offered, and before giving Dr. Morton the option or the opportunity to decline, he motioned to the front door of the manor house. “I am certain that she
would wish to be examined as quickly as possible, given the urgency of her request.”
Dr. Morton and Rebecca followed him as he led them through the foyer and towards the main stairwell. He noticed the awe and wonder in Rebecca’s eyes as she lightly touched the smooth wooden bannister and he longed to touch her in the same manner. He still recalled the image of her body from under the wet dress at the beach, the curves of her hips and her breasts.
A shiver ran down his spine, a warm feeling spreading quickly through him. Of course, he had no choice but to end his thoughts. It was not appropriate to think of her in such a manner. Thinking of their kiss did not help matters.
Deciding that he must be a responsible, mature man and not the impulsive child his mother thought he was, he commandeered his thoughts away and straightened his shoulders. Perhaps after today he would finally have the opportunity to tell his mother that he no longer wished to honour her wishes. If that meant he would be excluded from her will, causing him to not inherit what was rightfully his, then so be it.
Chapter Eight.
With her nerves on edge, Rebecca followed Thomas and her father up a grand stairwell. The bannister was carved from dark wood and it was smooth to the touch. Although her shoulders were tense as she was unsure of what was about to happen, she was put at ease ever so slightly by Thomas’ presence.
And despite not being able to walk too closely behind him, his brief glances in her direction assured her that he welcomed her presence. She found comfort that he was there, but it certainly did not detract from the fact that there may be trouble on the horizon.
Or perhaps she was merely imagining it? Perhaps the Dowager Duchess merely required medical attention. She was, after all, a well-aged woman.
Thomas stopped in front of an intricately carved door and inhaled slowly. He knocked on the wooden panel and without even allowing the person to respond, immediately opened the door and stepped inside.
Rebecca and her father exchanged glances of discomfort but followed his lead.
