Rebecca by Jo Ann Ferguson Page B

explained to her second husband about her first marriage. Bennett would have never believed that it had been a totally platonic relationship. If he had discovered these letters or their marriage lines, he would have made her suffer.
    Carefully, he refolded the letter and put it back in the case. Perhaps Rebecca had not changed that much. It would have been characteristic of the young girl who had aided him to treasure the letters sent to her by her husband who was a stranger. He recalled she had said she anxiously had waited for a year to hear from him. When he had asked her to be his wife, he had not given any thought to the sorrow she would suffer if he died. He was sure there was no one else who would have waited so patiently and mourned so deeply for him.
    As Rebecca slumbered, he walked over to gaze down into her face. She was incredibly lovely. From the second she had walked into the church on her brother’s arm, he had known no man would convince him to release her from their marriage. When she had turned to look into his eyes as she went to marry another man, he had seen the fiery spirit of Rebecca North Wythe was unchanged. At that moment, he had known he must have her as his own. In sleep, her face had softened to the sweetness which had been on her features that morning.
    If anything had altered Rebecca, it had been his interruption of her wedding. In that moment, the gentle child had been shoved aside to enable her to become hard to deal with her broken heart. Yet he knew the gentleness remained. On the trip, he had seen her talking sweetly to everyone but him. When she thought he did not see, she had gone to admire wildflowers by the side of the road while their horses were exchanged for fresh ones. She had charmed their coach driver so much that the drab man had unbent enough to smile at her whenever she spoke to him.
    Only to her husband was she cold. He wondered if she would ever forgive him for taking her away from what she saw as the realization of her dreams. If she did not learn on the trip, she would learn after their arrival at Foxbridge Cloister that she would need an ally to help her face what awaited her there. It would not be easy for Rebecca Wythe to become Lady Foxbridge, and there would be some eager to see her fail.
    With a smile, he bent to kiss her forehead. His happy expression faded as he placed his palm where his lips had been. He cursed under his breath. Rebecca was not seasick. She was ill with a fever. After he had tucked the blankets around her, he went to the door. Although he did not think he would wake her, he closed it quietly.
    â€œJake!” he called to a youngster he recognized as the cabin boy of the Prize . “Go to Captain Jennings, and tell him Lord Foxbridge requires his presence immediately. It’s an emergency, but speak to no one but the captain about this. Understand?”
    Shaken by the urgency in the man’s voice, the boy said, “Aye, m’lord.” He spun and raced up the steps to the upper deck.
    Nicholas went back into the small room. There was only one window, but he opened it wider to freshen the room. The stagnant smell of sickness would hurt Rebecca in her recovery. After a second hesitation, he went to the bed. He loosened the collar of her gown. Pushing aside the blankets, he removed her high shoes and heavy stockings. With a sharp tug, he ripped her cumbersome petticoats from under her dress. He did not want to disturb her by trying to untie them. In her plain gown, she would be as comfortable as in her nightgown.
    She did not acknowledge his actions, except to moan softly as he put the blankets over her again. He knew she was lost in agony. There was no medical man on the ship, so she would have to fight whatever was making her ill with her own resources.
    A knock on the door cut through his reverie. He opened it. “Come in, Drew. I thought you would want to know about this.”
    The shorter man took one look at her and said,