Rebecca's Refusal Read online

  “In that I have a great deal of sympathy for them,” said Rebecca. She looked at him challengingly as she walked down the room beside him, her hand raised and joined to his. “I warn you, if you mean to put men out of work then I will do everything in my power to thwart you.”

  “It would not surprise me,” he returned, with a flash in his copper-coloured eyes.

  And why did they have to send shivers through her, those eyes? she wondered, as she turned away from him, in accordance with the dance. Why could they not have been green, or blue, or grey, or anything but copper?

  The dance brought them together again.

  “I can understand why the men hate machines,” continued Rebecca. She was determined not to succumb to the magnetism of the man before her: if she did that, he would surely relegate her, as a mere woman, to a subordinate role, and forbid her any real influence over her inheritance. But she was determined to play her part. Although she knew very little about running a mill she meant to use her part-ownership to make sure that the men and women who worked there did not suffer the draconian working conditions that were prevalent in some mills. This, she suspected, was the part her grandfather had meant her to play: bringing a softening influence to Joshua's hard and predatory nature. “The machines take away their jobs. I am not surprised they're resentful.”

  “Being resentful is one thing,” he remarked. “Being violent is quite another. The Luddites are no respecters of persons. If they feel their livelihoods are threatened they are not above breaking into the homes of mill owners and holding them at gunpoint.”

  “You are thinking of James Balderstone,” said Rebecca. The assault on James Balderstone had been in all the newspapers at the time. His house had been broken into by a mob, and he had been held at gunpoint by a number of Luddites whilst their fellows had smashed up one of his frames.

  “Among others. And in some cases the situation has been even worse. In Stockport, a mob broke into one of the mills and destroyed the looms before turning their attention to the owner's house and setting it on fire.”

  “Nevertheless, I intend to take an interest in my inheritance,” said Rebecca firmly. “Grandfather left me half the mill for a purpose and I don't want to let him down. Besides, he is right. I can't be content with sitting by the fire and knitting! I long for a challenge. I am too much like him to be content with idling my life away.”

  To her surprise, she saw a look of respect and understanding cross Joshua's face. But then it disappeared, and she could tell that, no matter how much he might understand her feelings, he was not about to give in. He did not want a woman as a partner, and it would take more than a flash of respect to change his mind.

  There was no time for anything further, however. The dance was drawing to its close. The last chords sounded and she turned to Joshua and dropped him a curtsey.

  He made her a bow and then, offering her his arm, he escorted her to the side of the room. Hetty was waiting for them. The three of them enjoyed a little light conversation before Joshua made his excuses and left their side.

  “My, you made a handsome couple,” said Hetty, unfolding her fan and wafting it in front of her face to create a cooling breeze. “It's such a pity that Joshua is too young to marry.” She gave a sigh. “He has too much drive and ambition to settle down. Perhaps, when he is older, and needs to set up his nursery... But never mind, there are plenty of eligible bachelors here tonight. Oh, look, here is Lord Henderton.” She caught sight of Rebecca's humorous expression and said ruefully, “I know you don't like me to play the part of the matchmaker, Rebecca, but I would so like to see you settled.”

  “I promise you that if I ever fall in love I will be happy to marry,” she said. “But not until.”

  “Well, I can ask for no more than that,” said Hetty. She turned towards the young nobleman. “Ah! Lord Henderton! How lovely to see you. I don't believe you know my niece.”

  Lord Henderton professed himself eager to rectify that sad state of affairs, and before long Rebecca found him leading her out onto the floor. Lord Henderton turned out to be a good dancer and an agreeable companion, and she enjoyed the cotillion they danced together.

  Hetty nobly refrained from asking her how she had found Lord Henderton when the dance came to an end, but Rebecca took pity on her, telling her that she had found him most agreeable.

  “And there are a number of other young gentlemen here tonight who are equally agreeable,” said Hetty, eager to promote Rebecca's happiness. “You must let me introduce you to Mr Porter.” She wafted her fan in the direction of the gentleman in question. “He comes from a very good family, and his mother and I are old friends.”

  Rebecca allowed Hetty to make the introduction, and then accepted Mr Porter's hand for the next dance. Like Lord Henderton, he was a pleasant and agreeable companion. But his closeness did not make her skin tingle...

  After Mr Porter, Rebecca danced with a succession of pleasant and agreeable young men.

  It was whilst she was dancing with Mr Yunge, however, that she became aware of another gentleman watching her with a puzzled expression. As soon as the dance ended he accosted her, saying, “Haven't we met somewhere before?”

  Rebecca took in his bland, slack-featured face and shook her head. “I don't believe so.” Then, remembering that Joshua had been reminded of her grandfather on first meeting her, she said, “Perhaps you knew my grandfather, Jebadiah Marsden. There is a family resemblance, I believe.”

  He shook his head. “No, I never knew Jebadiah Marsden.” He regarded her closely. It was somewhere recently that I saw you, I am certain. You have been in London for the winter?”

  “No. I have only just arrived.”

  “And you are sure we have never met?” he asked curiously.

  “Positive.” Rebecca was firm.

  He gave a sigh. “I could have sworn... oh, well I dare say it will come back to me.”

  Rebecca murmured a polite nothing and returned to Hetty's side.

  “I am glad you are getting to know some of the gentlemen here,” said Hetty, rather anxiously, “but if I can just give you a word of warning, Rebecca. The gentleman you were talking to just now — the slack-featured gentleman, George Lacy — he is not quite the thing.”

  “Don't worry aunt,” teased Rebecca. “I promise not to form a tendre for him!”

  To Rebecca's surprise, Hetty did not smile at her sally.

  “That isn't what I mean,” said Hetty, shaking her head. “He has a malicious nature, and he delights in inflicting harm. He loves nothing better than to gossip — I declare he is worse than a woman in that way — and if he ever discovers something any decent person would keep quiet about, he noises it abroad. Oh! Not openly. That would be too dangerous for him. There are still gentlemen who are prepared to fight a duel if they feel their own of their wife's honour has been called into question. But nevertheless he finds a way of making it known.”

  “Never fear,” said Rebecca. “He cannot hurt me. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Even so, I would rather you kept away from him,” said Hetty worriedly.

  “I shall do as you suggest,” said Rebecca. She had detected something underhand about Mr Lacy herself, and was happy to assure Hetty she had no intention of cultivating his acquaintance.

  “Good.” Hetty was satisfied.

  “Oh, look,” she said. “Here is Joshua. I believe he means to ask you for another dance.”

  Rebecca felt her heart skip a beat. Dancing with Joshua had been difficult enough the first time. She did not trust herself to accept his hand for a second time. She must think of some excuse.

  “May I have the honour of your hand for the next dance?” asked Joshua as he joined them at the side of the ballroom.

  “I must beg to be excused,” Rebecca said. “I am feeling rather hot.”

  “Indeed.” His eyes fixed on hers and held them for a long moment.

  If she had not been hot before, she certainly was now!

  As if
convinced that she was indeed feeling heated by the delicate flush that sprang to her cheek, Joshua released her from his gaze, saying, “Then you must let me fetch you an ice.”

  Rebecca accepted his offer and he strode off, to return a few minutes later with a refreshing confection.

  By this time Hetty was deep in conversation with one of the other matrons, leaving Rebecca feeling vulnerable. As she took the ice she decided it was best to retreat once more into general conversation. She was just about to launch into a discussion of the war against France, asking Joshua whether he felt that Napoleon was indeed close to ultimate defeat, as the newspapers suggested, when she became aware of George Lacy's eyes on them.

  “What is it?” asked Joshua, seeing her frown.

  “That gentleman,” said Rebecca, her hand poised halfway to her mouth. “George Lacy. He is watching me.”

  “That's hardly surprising,” said Joshua. His eyes warmed as they roved over her face, taking in her bright eyes and her naturally red lips, before dropping to her delicious curves, which were encased in her satin gown.

  Rebecca blushed. “You must not say such things to me.”

  She had not meant to say it. She had meant to smile politely, as she would have smiled politely at the pleasantries of any other gentleman. But she had not been equal to it.

  He looked down at her more intently, and the mocking smile left his lips. “Why not, when they are true?” he asked.

  Rebecca could think of no answer to this. Even so, she wished he would not say such things, or look at her in such a disturbing way. She was becoming prey to certain unsettling images, images of him sweeping her into his arms and kissing her on the lips, and she knew she must drive them away.

  “Tell me,” she said, striving to turn the conversation into less disturbing channels, and falling back on her earlier idea of discussing Napoleon. “What do you think of Napoleon's chances, now that so many countries have entered a coalition against him?”

  “Determined to talk of commonplaces?” he asked with a quizzical look.

  She could think of no suitable reply, and covered her silence by taking a spoonful of ice.

  Then his quizzical look vanished, and Rebecca realized he had seen the wisdom of this himself.

  “Very well,” he said. “I think that Napoleon was a fool to invade Russia last year. I think his defeat at the Battle of the Nations in October spelt his doom, and I think the Coalition will eventually beat him. He's a great general, but not even he can stand out against Russia, Prussia, Sweden, Austria and Bavaria when they are all united against him.” He gave a wry smile, then said unexpectedly, “I also think his defeat will be very bad for business.”

  Rebecca was startled. “Bad for business?”

  Joshua nodded. “Supplying the army with the material for their uniforms has been very lucrative for the mills.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Do you ever stop thinking of business?” she asked.

  “Not often.”

  She smiled. “I suppose I should be pleased. It is a good trait to have in a partner.”

  She finished her ice.

  “You are still determined not to sell me your share of the mill?” he asked.

  “I am.”

  “Think it over carefully, Rebecca. Remember, the problems with the Luddites could flare up again at any time. I don't want you putting yourself in danger.”

  There was a spark of something unfathomable in his eyes as he said it, and for a moment she had the wild idea that he was concerned about her.

  But of course he was concerned, she reminded herself a moment later. He was concerned because she was Jebadiah's grand-daughter. And Joshua had been very fond of Jebadiah.

  “I don't intend to put myself in danger,” she reassured him, putting her empty dish on a silver tray as a footman walked by. “But I intend to take an interest in my inheritance. You must reconcile yourself to my visiting the mill in order to acquaint myself with it.”

  Joshua gave a wry smile. “Your grandfather often spoke about you, but he neglected to tell me about your stubborn streak. It is almost as strong as my own.”

  At that moment Lady Cranston approached them and introduced a nervous young lady fresh from the schoolroom. Joshua, doing his duty, fell in with Lady Cranston's unspoken wishes and politely asked the young lady to dance.

  Hetty was still busy chattering to one of her friends, and seeing that she was occupied Rebecca felt free to slip out of the room. Despite her ice she was still feeling overheated and wanted to retreat to somewhere cooler and quieter for a few minutes.

  It was certainly cooler in the corridor than the ballroom, but with all the candles in the magnificent chandeliers, it was still hot.

  She opened one of the doors that led off from the corridor, and found herself in a small anteroom, which on closer inspection turned out to be a pretty little morning-room. A fire was lit but it was banked down. The coals showed blackly against the white marble fireplace, and the atmosphere was pleasantly cool.

  Rebecca closed the door behind her. She was pleased to have found somewhere to rest, and she was relieved to be alone.

  She had found being with Joshua unsettling. He was like no other man she had ever met. He was ruthless and hard in many ways, and yet there was an unmistakeable warmth underneath.

  Was it the contrast between his hard surface and his inner warmth that attracted her? she wondered. For she could no longer hide from herself the fact that she was attracted to him. Whenever he was near her she found her thoughts wandering down new and unsettling paths, and try as she might she could not stop them.

  She sighed, and wandered over to the window. She would give herself a few minutes in the morning-room to cool down and then return to the ballroom. Looking round she tried to find something to distract her thoughts. Ah! A collection of miniatures. They hung next to the window, on the gold-painted wall. She moved closer to study them. They were exquisitely executed, and she was just marvelling over the detail in them when the door opened. She turned round... and saw George Lacy enter the room.

  “Mr Lacy!” she exclaimed. She was not pleased to see him. Of all the guests at the ball, he was the one she least wanted to see. Especially now, when she had been hoping for a few minutes peace.

  “Miss Fossington,” he replied.

  He did not seem surprised to see her and his attitude, as though he had expected to find her there, made her feel on edge. She examined him warily. Of middle height, he appeared to be about forty years of age. He was well dressed, his striped yellow waistcoat contrasting with his blue tailcoat and his white linen, but even so, there was a sharp look in his eye.

  “I was just about to return to the ballroom,” she said. Her aunt's warnings were clear in her mind, and she was determined to leave the room at once. But as she passed him on the way to the door he suddenly lunged at her. His arms wrapped themselves round her like steel wires and she smelt the rancidness of his breath as he tried to fasten his mouth on hers. His action was as shocking as it was unexpected, and in horror Rebecca pushed him away.

  “Come now, no need to play the innocent,” he said insinuatingly. He approached her again. “Just a little kiss, that's all I ask.”

  To her annoyance, Rebecca found that she was shaking. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” she demanded, rapidly regaining control of herself. She drew herself up and said, with as much authority as she could muster, “Let me pass.”

  “Quite the little actress, aren't we?” he sneered. “But I know what you really are. That virtuous pose won't wash with me.”

  He lunged at her again, and this time he managed to clamp his lips to her own. She shut her mouth firmly and stamped down hard on his foot.

  He let out a cry of rage. It had the fortunate effect of making his mouth leave hers, but then he lunged for her again. She backed away. She fumbled behind her in an effort to grasp one of the candlesticks that stood on the mantelpiece. It would make an effective weapon. But just as her fingers closed arou
nd it the door opened and Joshua was revealed in the doorway.

  It took Joshua only a second to take in what was happening and then he was across the room and lifting Lacy bodily away from Rebecca, before turning and depositing him none too gently on the ground again. Joshua's bulk was now between Lacy and Rebecca, protecting her from any further attack.

  “You're a damned cur, Lacy,” he snarled. “I suggest you apologize to the lady at once.”

  He stepped aside so that Lacy could do so, watching him all the time to make sure that he did not try to attack Rebecca again. But instead of complying, Lacy only flicked the lace at his wrists and straightened his cravat. Then he jeered, “Lady? Oh, no, Kelling, I don't think so.”

  He looked from Joshua to Rebecca and back again. He was beginning to regain his confidence now that Joshua had let him go, and he continued more boldly. “I knew I'd seen her somewhere before but I couldn't think where. And then it came back to me. When I saw her dancing with you, I realized I'd seen the two of you together, and then I remembered where it was. It was at The Nag's Head.”

  Rebecca felt her spirits sink.

  “Looking a bit smarter than the last time I saw you, aren't you?” sneered Lacy, warming to his theme. “You were wearing nothing but breeches then, if I remember correctly. Not the sort of sight for a "lady", eh? Kelling? And Rebecca... She was more chastely dressed, I admit, but I don't suppose that state of affairs existed for very long, did it? Not after I heard you asking her to share your bed. A pity I didn't get to see the finale; that would have been something! I only got to see the opening act. Still, it was enough.” He rubbed his bruised arm. “You wanted to conduct your little affair in secret, didn't you? You thought you could go out to The Nag's Head and have the "lady" in your room with no one being the wiser. But you were wrong. Because I was there, Kelling, and I saw the two of you together. And what's more, before this evening's over, everyone else will know it too.”