Lady Beneath the Veil Page 10

  The sneer in his voice was unmistakable. Dominique stiffened and opened her mouth to respond, but Gideon caught her eye and gave the slightest shake of his head.

  ‘I shall of course do my best to assist Mrs Rainault,’ he said evenly. ‘Now we have signed the Treaty of Amiens I am sure there is a much greater chance of success.’

  ‘Fustian,’ Max retorted. ‘Jerome Rainault’s been dead these ten years. You of all people should know what savages the French are.’

  Dominique flinched, but Gideon’s smile did not falter. If anything, it grew as his eyes flickered in her direction.

  ‘Not all of them.’

  Max frowned, but after a moment he sat back in his chair, his brow clearing, and he addressed Dominique with at least a semblance of friendliness, ‘So, how do you go on, Cousin? How do you like London?’

  ‘Very much.’ Dominique took her lead from Gideon and kept her tone light. ‘I have made so many friends here. Everyone is very kind.’

  ‘Well, perhaps they don’t know—’

  ‘Oh, everyone knows the circumstances of our marriage,’ Gideon interrupted him, his voice dangerously quiet. ‘The society columns of the news-sheets carried little else for weeks after we arrived. They were very well informed.’

  A cruel smile curled Max’s mouth.

  ‘Were they, indeed? I wonder how that occurred.’

  ‘Some malicious troublemaker,’ replied Gideon. ‘But their efforts were wasted. We have shown everyone that we are the epitome of domestic bliss. And you will be pleased to know my wife is becoming a firm favourite with all the hostesses. Ask anyone in town.’ He smiled. ‘But what are we thinking of? Perhaps you would like to take a glass of wine with us, to toast our felicity—’

  ‘Thank you, no.’ Max rose abruptly. ‘I have an engagement to dine with friends.’

  ‘Then Judd will show you out,’ murmured Dominique, moving over to the bell pull. Max followed and took her hand.

  ‘Accept my felicitations, Cousin. I am...pleased...to see you so comfortable.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And I have to thank you, too, Max,’ said Gideon pleasantly. ‘You have provided me with a perfect wife. Who could ever have thought things would work out so well?’

  Without a word the earl gave another clipped bow and left the room.

  Gideon smiled.

  ‘I think we have done well, there, my sweet. Your dear cousin is not at all happy that his plans have misfired so spectacularly.’

  She said slowly, ‘We have made a fool of him, Gideon. He will not like that.’

  ‘No, but he cannot alter it, so if he has any sense he will shrug and accept the situation.’ Gideon glanced at the clock. ‘I suppose we must change for dinner. We are engaged to join some card party tonight, are we not?’

  ‘Yes, Lady Torrington’s,’ she said absently. ‘Gideon—what you said, about helping Maman...would you mind if I tried to discover something about Papa? I was afraid to mention it before...’

  He put his fingers under her chin.

  ‘My dear, you should not be afraid to ask anything of me.’

  His tone was light, but the warmth she had seen in his eyes earlier had disappeared.

  ‘Are you angry with me, Gideon, because I want to find my father?’ she challenged him. ‘I cannot stop loving him, just because you have cause to hate all Girondins.’

  His hand dropped.

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Gwendoline. She—she told me about your aunt and uncle. And your brother.’

  ‘Then you know my hatred is well founded.’

  ‘But if you knew Papa—’

  ‘I have no wish to know him,’ he snapped. ‘He was part of the regime which caused the death of three people very dear to me. That I can never forgive.’

  ‘As you can never forgive me for being his daughter.’

  There, she had said it. Dominique trembled at her own temerity. The colour drained from his face and his mouth became a thin line as he held back his anger. He turned away and walked to the fireplace where he stood with his back to her, staring down into the flames.

  ‘I have tried to forget it, these past few weeks,’ he said at last. ‘But it is always there, a ghost between us.’

  She walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

  ‘We have not fared so very badly, have we? We have to keep trying, Gideon. We have to make this work.’

  ‘To prove Max was wrong? I am beginning to think that game is not worth the prize.’

  ‘No, this is nothing to do with Max.’ She ran her tongue over her dry lips and swallowed. She said, forcing the words out, ‘I am carrying your child.’

  He said nothing, but she felt a shudder run through him. She removed her hand and stepped back. The silence continued, unbroken, and at last, with a sigh, she turned and left the room.

  * * *

  Dominique fled to her bedchamber. Kitty was already there, waiting to help her change for dinner. She thought about dismissing her maid and indulging in a hearty bout of tears, but instead she fought down her unhappiness and allowed herself to be helped into the blue satin she had chosen to wear to Lady Torrington’s card party.

  * * *

  Long after the door had closed Gideon remained staring down into the fire. So this was it, the last link in the chain that would bind him to his wife forever. A child. How ironic, that the heir to Rotham should have French blood in his veins, after all his family had suffered at the hands of that nation. It might be a girl, of course, but what did it matter? He would not cast off the mother of his child.

  He raised his eyes to the mirror. It was as if the ghosts of his brother and his aunt were at his shoulders. He waited, expecting to feel their disapprobation, but he felt...nothing. This baby was innocent of its history—as was his wife. He realised that he was in an impossible position: he could not turn his back on his marriage, any more than he could give up his inheritance. Nicky might not be the wife he had dreamed of, and he had never wanted to be his father’s heir, but it was so. It was too late for regrets, he must move on and make what he could of his life.

  There was a tangible lightening of the air around him, as if the shades of his brother and his aunt had disappeared.

  * * *

  Dominique was sitting at her dressing table while Kitty put the finishing touches to her hair when Gideon came in. Quietly she dismissed her maid, but remained in her seat, looking into the mirror as Gideon came to stand behind her.

  ‘What you said. A baby. Are you—quite sure?’

  She nodded. ‘As sure as I can be.’ She saw the dawning wonder and confusion on his countenance and turned to face him. He dropped on to one knee and took her hands.

  ‘Then...perhaps you should be resting—do you want me to send our apologies to Lady Torrington?’

  ‘No, no, there is no need for that.’

  ‘Then, what shall we do? What do you want to do?’

  His bewilderment dragged a shaky laugh from her.

  ‘I want us to have dinner, Gideon, and to go to Torrington House. It is early days yet, no one need know that I am increasing.’ She met his eyes. ‘I want us to go on exactly as we are, Gideon.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I am very sure.’

  She did not have the courage to ask him not to avoid her bed and could only hope he understood her.

  ‘Then I will go and change.’

  ‘Please do.’ She smiled. ‘You will incur Cook’s wrath if his dinner is spoiled because he has to wait for you.’

  She turned back to her mirror, to pin up the last few curls.

  ‘One more thing.’ He stopped at the door. ‘Of course you must do everything you can to find your father. You do not need to involve me—
I will direct Rogers, the family lawyer, to come and see you.’

  Even as she struggled to find the words to thank him, he was gone.

  * * *

  Gideon was more attentive than usual at dinner and towards the end of their evening at Torrington House, instead of going off to join his friends at White’s and leaving his wife to make her own way home, he elected to accompany her back to Brook Street. When she remonstrated with him, declaring that she did not wish to curtail his pleasure, he replied with perfect sincerity that escorting her home was his pleasure.

  They were in the hall, waiting for their carriage, and as he took his wife’s cloak from the footman and gently placed it about her shoulders, Gideon reflected on the change that had come over him in the past few months. By heaven, he was becoming quite domesticated! His wife’s soft voice brought him back to the present.

  ‘I heard Mr Williams say you had been invited to Martlesham House.’ There was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

  Gideon gave her shoulders a little squeeze.

  ‘I have no interest in associating with Max or his friends.’ He escorted her to their waiting carriage and settled himself comfortably beside her before adding, ‘I think I have outgrown such company.’

  ‘I am glad. I fear Max has little regard for the feelings of others.’

  ‘None at all, but it was not until he hoaxed me that I saw just how thoughtless he is.’ He turned towards her, saying earnestly, ‘I was careless, too. It was wrong of me to punish you for his trickery. I was a fool, Nicky, but I hope I have learned my lesson now.’

  ‘Oh, Gideon—’

  ‘I know this marriage is not what either of us wanted,’ he rushed on, needing to explain, to make amends. ‘But it will not be so bad, I promise you. I have no doubt we will rub along very well. And once the little matter of an heir is out of the way I shall not importune you with unreasonable demands.’

  She had twisted in her seat and raised her hand, as if to touch his cheek, but now it fell again.

  ‘Un-unreasonable?’

  ‘Yes. I shall not expect you to submit to my...attentions.’ He frowned. ‘What is it, Nicky? Have I upset you?’

  ‘No, no.’ She shook her head quickly. ‘I am merely tired, that is all.’

  She drew back into the shadows of the carriage and they lapsed into silence. Gideon hoped she understood what he had been trying to say. He feared he had phrased it very badly, yet he could not bring himself to state it quite as baldly as his father had done. Gideon could still remember his father’s words as they had lowered the wasted body of the viscountess into the family vault. ‘So many years of pain, the stillborn babes, the illness—if I had taken a mistress for my lusts I would have spared your poor mother a great deal of suffering.’

  His father had been at pains to impress upon him a husband’s responsibilities: his wife would expect to give him a son, perhaps two, but childbearing was a perilous occupation and a gentleman would not overtax his wife’s delicate body with his demands. That was twelve years ago. Gideon had been a mere boy of sixteen and devastated by the death of his kind, gentle mother. He had dreamed of joining the army, but his widowed father had insisted upon keeping him close, and when James had died two years later, Gideon’s fate had been sealed. Not for him the glories of the battlefield. The title and the heavy responsibility of the estate and its people was his fate. Was it any wonder, then, that when the inheritance from his godmother had given him his independence he had rushed to town and proceeded to kick up every kind of spree and lark? That was when he had fallen in with Max’s set and proceeded to prove to his new friends that he could drink, gamble and wench with the best of them. Or perhaps that should be the worst. His father clearly thought so.

  * * *

  When they reached Brook Street, Gideon suggested they should take wine together in the drawing room, but Nicky declined and with a brief goodnight she disappeared up the stairs. He watched her go and a shard of disappointment pierced him. She did not want his company, and, now she was carrying his child, she would not want him in her bed.

  * * *

  Invitations were flooding into Brook Street for balls, routs, riding parties and soirées and Dominique acknowledged that her sister-in-law was in no small measure responsible for her popularity.

  ‘If you had not taken me in hand, I should not go on half so well,’ she said to Gwendoline when they sat together in the supper room during Lady Grayson’s summer ball. ‘You have shown me just how to go on here.’

  ‘Nonsense, you would have come about,’ replied Gwen, justifiably proud of her protégée.

  The shy little sparrow, blown into town on the icy spring air, had been transformed into an exotic creature, dressing in hot, vibrant colours that made the most of her dusky curls and emerald-green eyes. Her liveliness and appealing manners charmed the hostesses, who considered her an asset to any gathering. She had also attracted the attention of a considerable number of gentlemen, but watching Dominique now, as Gideon led her on to the dance floor, Gwendoline concluded that her vivacious sister-in-law had eyes only for her husband.

  Not that Dominique doted upon Gideon: on the contrary, she never clung to his arm and smiled complacently when he went off to the card room, or partnered another lady in the dance, but Gwendoline noticed those occasional, unguarded moments when Dominique’s eyes would rest just a fraction too long upon her husband. She had seen that same look upon the faces of other young brides and it rarely survived the first year. After that they found other men to amuse and divert them. She sighed. As she had done in a vain attempt to pique Ribblestone’s interest.

  * * *

  Dominique went down the dance with her husband, wishing the moment could go on forever. She knew no greater felicity than to stand up with Gideon. He was always most attentive when they were in public and she could pretend at such times that they were really the doting couple society thought them. It was a game they played, but this evening her confidence had been badly shaken, following an encounter with her cousin.

  It was inevitable that they should meet Max occasionally, but they generally contented themselves with a brief nod in passing. However, this evening Max had sought her out. She thought he must have been waiting for his opportunity, because it was one of the rare occasions during the evening when she was standing alone. He asked her to dance with him and when she hesitated he gave a rueful smile.

  ‘I suppose you think me too bad a person to partner you, but can we not put aside our animosity, just for half an hour? We are family, after all.’

  ‘Very well, Cousin.’ She took his hand and let him lead her on to the dance floor, well aware of the curious glances of those around them. The rumours might have died down, but the circumstances of her irregular marriage to Gideon were not yet forgotten. She held her head up and smiled at her partner. ‘Perhaps this will show we are not at daggers drawn, my lord.’

  It was a lively country dance and, by the end of it, the earl’s countenance was more ruddy than ever and he was wheezing a little.

  She went to move away, but he caught her hand.

  ‘Not yet. I want to talk to you.’

  ‘I do not think there is anything to talk about.’

  He drew her towards the long windows which had been opened to allow in the balmy night air.

  ‘Are you not interested to know what is going on at Martlesham?’

  ‘My mother is a frequent correspondent. She tells me all I want to know.’

  ‘Let us step out on to the terrace a moment—’

  ‘No.’ She stood her ground. ‘I do not trust you, Max. You are wont to make trouble.’

  He looked pained. ‘I merely want to get a little air. Dancing is so exhausting.’

  ‘You should dance more, Cousin, not less.’ Her eyes fell on the bulging front of his waistcoat. ‘The exercise wou
ld be beneficial.’

  He scowled at that.

  ‘Aye, you may mock me, madam, but I know this marriage of yours is not as it seems.’

  ‘You know nothing. We are very happy together.’ She added, a touch of relief in her voice, ‘My husband is over there and he is looking for me. Do not detain me, Cousin, if you do not wish to anger him.’

  He reached out and caught her arm as she went to walk away.

  ‘Happy, are you?’ he muttered, his lip curling. ‘Well, enjoy it while you can, Cousin. As soon as he has got you with child, Albury will pack you off to Rotham so he can take up his old life again.’

  With a great effort of will Dominique kept her hands from sliding protectively across her belly. It was two weeks since she had told Gideon about the baby and so far they had kept it a secret from everyone else. With a scorching look she pulled herself free and hurried away to join Gideon.

  ‘I saw you with Martlesham,’ he said as she came up. ‘I hope he did not upset you?’

  ‘No, he wanted to dance and I thought we should, to show the world there is no bad feeling between us.’

  ‘And after?’ He was watching her carefully. ‘He tried to take you outside.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘He would make mischief if he could, but I am wise to him.’

  ‘Perhaps I should warn him off—’

  She put her hand on his arm.

  ‘Please, Gideon, let it be. He is my cousin and I would rather we ignored him than quarrelled.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right,’ he said. ‘After all, he has done his worst. He cannot hurt us now.’

  Dominique allowed him to lead her away, but despite her smile and Gideon’s assertion, the earl’s warning remained with her.

  Chapter Eight

  Max’s words were still in her head the next morning, when she stood naked before the mirror and placed her hands on her thickening body. Gideon had insisted she should see his doctor and she had just endured a lengthy examination, after which Dr Harris, a blunt, jovial man, confirmed what she already knew.