Rebecca Read Online Free PDF Page B

could not help admiring his appearance. His dark brown coat was designed in the most fashionable style with the front corners cut back nearly to the side seam in a half-circle shape ending at the split back. His waistcoat and breeches were of the palest tan, which made his full-sleeved white shirt and white stockings appear even brighter. The black of his shoes was only slightly less shiny than his silver shoe buckles. A ribbon of the same brown velvet as his coat tied back his unpowdered hair. His fine clothes put her simple frock to shame.
    He walked to her. Grasping her hand, he twirled her slowly to view her from every angle. “Yes, you look lovely, Rebecca. That dress is perfect for you.”
    â€œStop it!” she cried, pulling away.
    â€œExcuse me? Stop what?” He was plainly baffled. “My dear Rebecca, you haven’t given me a chance to start anything.”
    Enraged, she repeated, “Stop it! Stop being so condescending. I know my dress is no match for your finery. You don’t have to remind me of that with your sarcastic compliments.”
    He fought to control his own anger as he wondered where the sweet Rebecca North had disappeared. Five years ago, she would have found his remarks delightful and would have patted his hand with the delicate touch which had reached past the delirium of his fever to help pull him back to health. He asked only, “Are you ready to go down?”
    Silently, she nodded. He picked up her fingers and raised them to his lips. There was no kindness in the motion, for his eyes reflected his true sentiments as they drilled deep into hers.
    Neither spoke as they went down the stairs and into the dining room, which was just off the front hall which served as the lobby. When he had seated her at one end of the single table, Nicholas excused himself brusquely. Her eyes followed him as he went into the taproom at the far end of the room.
    Rebecca was staring so intensely at her hands in her lap that she was startled when a male voice spoke to her. She looked up to see a man standing beside her. “Yes?” she asked.
    The man bowed slightly in her direction. He was an attractive man with light brown hair that curled on his forehead. His clothes were wrinkled slightly, so she guessed he was also a traveler taking shelter for the night in this wayside inn. “My dear lady, my name is Winfield Harding. I see you sitting here so alone.”
    As he paused, she said, “I am Rebecca Nor—I mean, Rebecca Wythe, sir.”
    â€œIt would be a pity for such a lovely lady to dine alone. May I make you the offer of my company for dinner, Miss Wythe?”
    She was about to refuse when a hard voice sounded behind them. Fear crossed her mobile face as she saw Nicholas with a mug of beer and a glass of wine in his hands. She wondered how much of the conversation he had heard. Although she had no reason to feel guilty, she knew he would not see it that way. “This lady, who is Mrs. Wythe, is not alone, sir. If you would be so good as to step aside, I would like to join my wife for our evening repast.”
    Harding faced the man who was several inches taller than he. He glanced from the terror on the woman’s face to the anger on her husband’s. Wrongly, he translated it to mean she expected Wythe to demand satisfaction from him. With a quick apology, he scurried away before either could say anything else.
    â€œHere, Rebecca,” said Nicholas, tightly, as he placed the wineglass in front of her. “I trust there won’t be a repetition of this wherever we go. I admit an ignorance of exactly how you colonials deal with such things, but I don’t want my wife flirting with every man she meets.”
    â€œMe? Flirting?” she cried. “You are impossible, Nicholas Wythe! I was just sitting here when Mr. Harding came over. I didn’t want to take supper with him, and I do not want to take supper with you!”
    When she started to