As Love is
Reborn
Part
Three
Marguerite Blakeney sat at her vanity table staring at the woman
in the mirror. Dressed in a beautiful gown, jewels glittering on her
arms, neck and head, she was the image of a perfect lady. The table
was covered with the accessories of a woman of wealth and fashion.
Her wardrobe was filled with magnificent dresses and fine linen. Her
jewelry…she walked to the safe built into the wall and opened
it. Each shelf held several boxes of necklaces, rings, bracelets,
diadems; so many she lost count. Mostly rubies and diamonds. He had
noticed that red was her favorite color.
How different from her home in Paris! There she was a leader in
fashion, but many of the beautiful outfits she wore were dresses that
she made over herself, with a little help from Marie. A panel of
lace, some new beads and buttons, different sashes and fichu's, and
one dress became five. And of course, the right demeanor helped. When
you strode the earth as if you were a queen, few people questioned
you. Early in her life, she had learned that if you broke the rules
with enough panache, you would not only be forgiven, but admired.
She looked around the dressing room with a sigh. The mistress's
apartment was immense. She loved the room's decor, relished the feel
of silk and satin on her skin, and enjoyed the dazzling gowns and
jewels. She had always taken pleasure in finery, a weakness she
freely admitted. In this world, there were worse sins than
appreciating fine-looking clothes and beautiful surroundings.
In fact, wasn't that part of the fascination of being an actress?
Dressing up? Becoming another person? As little girls often did, she
had dreamed of being a princess, living in a palace with her handsome
lord…suddenly, she realized the reason her rooms looked so
familiar.
For heaven's sake! This was her fantasy, the home she had pictured
as a child while living in the dingy attic flat with her parents and
little brother. The gold wallpaper, huge bed with the velvet
curtains, the lounge and bookcase, the wardrobe full of fine
clothing…Sir Percy had provided her with all that a woman could
want. All the material things that a woman could want, that is.
But what of Sir Percy? She had no memory of this man. If not for
Armand, she would never have believed herself married to an English
nobleman, one that she had known for only six weeks. Her young
brother was the impetuous one, not her. But here she was. Living on
this huge estate, with an incredibly handsome and wealthy husband who
apparently doted on her.
She was now a rich woman. The solicitor, a disagreeable old man,
had informed her only this morning of the terms of her marriage
settlement. With a disapproving frown in place, Mr. Adams told
Marguerite how Sir Percy had not only given her an independent
income, but also placed a considerable amount of money in her name.
It was obvious that the older man thought her husband a fool,
allowing a woman to have money of her own.
He had provided for Armand, as well. Her brother occupied a suite
in the other wing of the house, almost as fine as her own. Sir Percy
had set up an irrevocable trust for him, enough to finish his
education, to start him in any career he chose. Her husband was
nothing if not generous.
How generous, she had observed in the time that she had been at
Richmond. When Armand and Percy had taken her out, she could not help
but notice the high esteem with which her husband was held among the
locals. His tenants lived in clean, well-kept houses. There was a
school for the children, well stocked with books and maps. The
schoolmaster and his wife, who taught the girls, had come out and
thanked her effusively for a donation of atlases that she had
apparently arranged. She smiled. Apparently, Sir Percy shared her
views on the importance of an education for all people.
She knew why was she so uneasy. The fear that she could she have
actually married a man for his money. Was it possible that she had
sunk so low, committed the one sin that she had sworn she never
would? She was no man's possession, had never sold herself for
gold.
Agitated, she rose and paced the room. All right, she thought, so
he's wealthy. What of it? If you were willing to barter yourself,
there were plenty of chances to do so. How many men offered you
untold riches for your favors?
The fact that he has a title would not be an incentive for you, a
staunch Republican, she argued. Besides, in the past few years,
you've received marriage proposals from two barons, one count, and a
drunken marquis.
You never gave yourself to any of those men. You never let any man
touch you, except for…No! Don't think of Chauvelin now! Put him
out of your mind!
You vowed you would only marry for love. Therefore, you fell in
love with the man, even if you don't remember doing so. And he loves
you. He's told you so a dozen times. And those kisses…she felt
her face flame.
Every night this week, they had retired to the library after
dinner, sometimes talking, sometimes just reading. He would escort
her up the stairs to her apartments, then kiss her goodnight
chastely. Until the last two nights.
Those last nights, he had pulled her into his arms, holding her so
tightly that the breath was crushed from her, then kissed her
passionately. When she was about to swoon with sheer desire, he
released her, quietly going into his rooms, leaving her alone.
Unsatisfied. And infuriated. How dare he be so unmoved, so
poised!
Drifting into her bedroom, she looked at the door connecting Sir
Percy's suite to hers. It had not been opened once since the day they
arrived. After carrying her to the suite that first day, he showed
her where his apartment adjoined hers, then assured her that he would
not "force his attentions" upon her. She was attempting be grateful
for his consideration. Attempting, but failing miserably.
A tap on the door roused her from her contemplation. She took one
last look in the mirror, then opened the door to her husband. He was,
as usual perfectly dressed. As usual, she tried not to notice how
attractive he was.
Percy bowed and offered her his arm. Good Lord, how beautiful she
looked! He was so dazzled that it took him a moment to notice her
gown. "M'dear! What are you wearing?" He exclaimed, gaping at her
gown, a high-waisted robe that clung softly to her slender body.
Marguerite smiled. Now here was a reaction! "It's the Classic
look, Sir Percy. It is becoming popular in France. And I am going to
make it the latest fashion in England, because I, for one, am tired
of being smothered in ten layers of clothing." Taking his arm, she
led him towards the stairs. He almost stumbled down the first one, so
enamored was he of the vision she presented.
He was already uneasy about this party tonight. The Prince, upon
hearing that Lady Blakeney had been ill, raced to Richmond to see the
"invalid". Marguerite, after overcoming her surprise at having the
Prince of Wales come to see her, had risen to the occasion with her
usual aplomb, charming and flirting with His Highness until he had
actually blushed.
Relieved at finding her healthy, the Prince then announced to a
confounded Percy that he was going to arrange a party at Richmond,
inviting all of their "friends". All five thousand of them, Percy
thought sardonically. In the past few days, their only company had
been Armand and the Bounders. Now the Prince was pitching her into
the lion's den of British Society.
So much for his seduction. And it had been going so well!
With a sigh of resignation and a devout prayer, he led his wife
into the ballroom.
Part 2 | Part
4