Читать книгу Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 37
ОглавлениеGideon uttered the words cheerfully as he came in and closed the door behind him. He had entered the room with every nerve-end tingling, prepared for a brawl, but when he had opened the door to see his wife brandishing a poker to keep her would-be seducer at bay his worst fears were alleviated. In fact, he had a strong inclination to laugh.
‘I think, my dear, you can dispense with the weapon now.’
She lowered the poker.
‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘A simple deduction.’ He glanced at Lamotte, who was silently watching him, a guilty scowl darkening his countenance. ‘What inducement did you use to entice my wife here?’
Nicky said quickly, ‘He told me he could help me find my father.’
Gideon raised a brow. ‘And can you, monsieur? I thought not,’ he added drily as Lamotte shrugged. He picked up the fichu from the floor and handed it to Dominique. ‘Here, madam. Put this on and your coat, too. I shall escort you home.’
She took the muslin scarf from him, but made no move to put it on. Instead she stood twisting it between her hands, her dark anxious gaze fixed on his face.
‘B-but I have been seen here. The landlord and the waiters who brought in the dinner—’
‘The landlord now believes you came here looking for me and as for the waiters, I think our friend here will be able to silence them.’ He turned to Lamotte, placing the tip of his cane against the Frenchman’s silk waistcoat. ‘Let me make myself very clear,’ he said icily. ‘If the slightest hint of scandal attaches to my wife’s being here, monsieur, then I shall take great pleasure in calling you out and despatching you. Do you understand me?’
Lamotte shook his head.
‘Believe me, I never meant any harm to madame.’
‘No.’ Gideon’s eyes narrowed. ‘You were put up to this by another, were you not?’ The flash of fear that crossed the Frenchman’s face gave Gideon his answer. His lip curling, he gave the cane a little push, sending Lamotte staggering back.
Dominique had put on her pelisse and was now watching them. Gideon opened the door, saying loudly,
‘I am very grateful to you, monsieur, for looking after my wife until I could join you. But we will not keep you any longer from your dinner. Adieu, sir!’
He flourished a bow and held out his hand to Dominique. She picked up a sheet of paper from one of the armchairs and stuffed it into her reticule before crossing the room to join him.
‘It is the information about my father,’ she said in response to his enquiring gaze. ‘It will not be needed now.’
She bent a look of burning reproach upon Lamotte, who had the grace to hang his head.
‘I beg your pardon, madame.’
Gideon took her arm.
‘Come, my dear.’
He escorted her down the stairs and out into the street. As they walked away from the lodging house Dominique gave a little sob.
‘I am so very sorry, Gideon. It was foolish of me to go there alone. I should have told you...’
‘And why did you not?’
‘B-because he said that success in finding out about Papa depended upon the utmost secrecy.’
Gideon looked down at her bowed head.
‘But that is not all, is it? You thought I should refuse to sanction this line of enquiry.’
‘Yes.’ Her reply was so quiet he almost missed it. He sighed.
‘Am I such an ogre, Nicky?’
‘Oh, no, no!’ She stopped and turned towards him. ‘You are not an ogre at all, but your abhorrence of all things French—’ She bit her lip. ‘But in this case you were right to be suspicious of Monsieur Lamotte and—and I beg your pardon.’
He squeezed her hand.
‘It was not totally your fault, Nicky.’
She was silent for a while, but as they walked out into St James’s Street, she said slowly, ‘You said someone else was behind this. Do you think it was my cousin?’
‘I not only think it, my dear, I am sure of it.’
She gave an angry little growl.
‘Ooh, of all the odious—’ She stopped. ‘There he is now, across the street with his cronies! And he has seen us. Let us confront him. I would like to scratch his eyes out!’
‘I have a much better idea,’ he said, catching her chin between his thumb and finger. ‘We will show him that his plan to cause trouble between us has not worked at all.’
He lowered his head and kissed her.
* * *
Dominique’s heart stopped and she forgot all about being angry with Max. She forgot about everything, save the soaring pleasure that filled her whole being. Gideon was still holding her chin so she could not pull away, even if she had wanted to do so, which she did not. His lips were gentle, it was the lightest of kisses and she found herself standing on tiptoe to prolong the moment. When at last he raised his head he was smiling down at her, such a glint in his eyes that she wanted to reach up and pull him down so she could kiss him again.
‘Is he still watching us?’ he murmured.
‘Who?’ She ran her tongue round her lips, trying to drag her mind away from the distracting cleft in his chin and the seductive curve of his lips.
He laughed, settled her arm firmly in his and began to walk on.
‘Your cousin is standing on the far pavement and staring at us as if he cannot believe his eyes. Look across, my dear, and smile while I tip my hat to him—like so. There, is that not more satisfying than, er, scratching his eyes out?’
Dominique chuckled even as she smiled and nodded at Max, who was glowering across the road at them.
‘It is amusing to see him so dumbfounded,’ she agreed, ‘but I am so angry with him! He will be fortunate when we meet again if I do not box his ears!’
‘What a violent creature you are,’ marvelled Gideon, a laugh in his voice. ‘I find you brandishing a poker at Lamotte and now you want to assault your cousin.’
‘When I am in a passion I hardly know what I am about,’ she confessed ruefully.
‘No, you don’t, do you?’
She looked up at that, a laughing question in her eyes, and found him watching her with such an arrested expression that her laughter died. Had she angered him, perhaps?
‘Can you really forgive me for my foolishness today?’ she asked him anxiously. ‘I promise you I shall not keep anything from you again.’
The serious look disappeared and he smiled, flicking her cheek with one careless finger.
‘Of course I forgive you,’ he said lightly. ‘Now let us hurry back to Brook Street. All this excitement has given me an appetite!’
* * *
It was almost an hour later when Gideon sat down to dinner with his wife, but despite his earlier protestations he only picked at the array of sumptuous dishes spread before him. His thoughts went back constantly to the events earlier that evening. Max’s attempts to discredit his wife had angered him, but that was not the only reason for his distraction. He was shocked by the jealousy that had consumed him when he had suspected Nicky had taken a lover.
That had been superseded by fear for her safety when he realised Max’s involvement, but more than anything he was confused by the overwhelming desire that had come over him when he had kissed her. It had been every bit as strong as on their wedding night. Then he had put it down to an excess of wine. Kissing his wife in broad daylight and in such a public place as St James’s Street should not have had anything like the same effect, but the touch of her lips had shaken him to the very core. He had covered it well, of course, but then, when they were walking home and she had mentioned her passionate nature, the memory of her response to his lovemaking on that first, momentous night had hit him so forcibly that for a few moments he had not been able to speak and had only been aware of a strong desire to rush home and repeat the performance.
Since their night together at Elmwood he had tried to treat her as a wife should be treated. He visited her bed for the sole purpose of producing an heir, keeping all other feelings well under control and it shocked him, as they entered the shadowy portals of his Brook Street house to find that he wanted to pick her up and carry her to his room, to rip off her clothes and make love to her as violently, as passionately as on that first, tempestuous occasion.
It could not be, of course. Now she was carrying his child he had no excuse to make love to her. His father had told him to take a mistress, but Gideon knew now that he did not want a mistress, he wanted his wife.
He struggled through dinner, trying to converse, attempting to entertain Nicky with amusing anecdotes while all he could think of was the softness of her skin, the warmth of her limbs when they were wrapped around him. When she went off to the drawing room he lingered over his port, wondering if the excitement of the day would make her too tired to wait up for him, but as he reached the drawing-room door he heard the soft lilting strains of the harp.
He watched her from the doorway, marvelling at the concentration on her face, and when his eyes moved to her hands caressing the strings he found himself remembering how gently those same fingers touched his body. Gideon shifted uncomfortably. It would not do. She was with child and as such would not welcome his advances. Indeed, he knew that such behaviour was downright dangerous. Father had made that quite clear. Looking across at the delicate little figure before him, Gideon knew he would not risk such a thing happening to Nicky.
Yet it took all his resolution to part from her that night and not to make his way through the dressing room to her bedchamber.
* * *
‘I think we should go to Rotham,’ Gideon announced at breakfast the next morning. ‘It is time you met my father.’
Dominique continued pouring her coffee. It was not unexpected, but his next words caused her to heart to sink.
‘You will remain there until the baby is born.’
‘And will you stay, too?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.
‘For a couple of weeks.’
So it had come. He had had enough of her—and how could she blame him, after her foolishness yesterday? There could be no arguing. Of course he would want the child to be born at Rotham, especially if it was a boy.
‘When do we go?’
‘In three weeks.’
‘Gwen has invited us to join her in Brighton.’
‘Impossible,’ he said shortly.
She accepted this, but he must have observed her disappointment for he added in a kinder tone, ‘Perhaps next year. Dr Harris is very good, but I should like you to have the services of my father’s medical man, a very experienced doctor. He delivered both of my sister’s children. Ribblestone’s country seat, Fairlawns, is but five miles from Rotham and Gwen will vouch for him, I am sure. That is, have you told her that you are increasing?’
‘Yes, but I swore her to secrecy.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Then I doubt it will remain a secret much longer.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘If you are in agreement, then I shall write to my father today and tell him we shall be at Rotham by the middle of July.’
What could she say? It was good of him to pretend she had a choice.
* * *
When Gwen heard that they were going to Rotham she screwed her face up in distaste. Dominique blinked away a rogue tear that threatened her eye.
‘Gideon says I am to stay there until the baby is born.’
‘Six months! You poor thing.’ Gwen added quickly, ‘I am sure he is thinking of your well-being, my love.’
‘He says the doctor there is very good.’
‘Oh, yes, indeed, you will like Dr Bolton, I am sure. Did Gideon tell you he delivered my babies? Perhaps if he had been our doctor when Mama was carrying that last child...’
‘What happened?’ asked Dominique.
Gwen sighed. ‘When we were young Mama was never well. She was always enceinte, or recuperating after a miscarriage. She had six more children after Gideon, but they all died within hours. Not that she ever complained. I believe she loved my father passionately. But the last time she was brought to bed she did not recover. Papa was heartbroken. I did not understand at the time why he should blame himself, but now that I am married I understand that a man can be too...physical.’ Gwen blushed.
‘And when did she die?’
‘Oh, it must be twelve years since. It was a bad time, we were all at Rotham, we all knew her suffering.’
‘Poor lady,’ murmured Dominique. ‘Perhaps Gideon really is concerned for my health.’
‘How can you think otherwise? You are still fretting over your cousin’s words, is that it? You are worried Gideon wants to be a bachelor again. I do not think he has any such intention.’
‘He did say he had outgrown Max and his circle,’ said Dominique, hopefully.
‘I am sure he has.’ Gwen said slowly, ‘Gideon’s wildness in recent years was more a rebellion against Papa, I think. You see, after Mama died Father changed. I was engaged to Ribblestone at the time, so I never suffered too much from his melancholy, and James, too, was of age and spent most of his time in town, but poor Gideon—Papa tried to turn him into a pattern card. It became even worse when James was murdered in Paris, and then Tante Gwendoline and the duc were guillotined. Gideon remained at Rotham, Father said it was his duty, now he was the heir, but the constraint irked him a great deal. It was no wonder that when he inherited a small fortune he took the opportunity to escape to town. He spent recklessly and seemed intent on committing every folly imaginable...’ She smiled. ‘So you see, my love, marriage to you could well be the making of my brother!’
* * *
Dominique clung on to that small ray of hope as she prepared to leave London. It was not to be expected that her interesting condition would remain a secret, although Gwen had assured her sister-in-law that she had told only her closest friends. By July it was all over town and Dominique had to accustom herself to beaming smiles and knowing looks. She saw Raymond Lamotte occasionally, but afforded him no more than a distant bow. She was still very angry with Max, but thankfully the one time they met she had Gideon by her side.
They were attending a musical recital and she was coming out of the supper room on Gideon’s arm when the earl appeared before them.
‘Martlesham.’
As Gideon bowed she made her curtsy to the earl.
‘Good evening, Albury. Cousin.’ He held on to her fingers after kissing them. ‘I understand I am to congratulate you.’
‘Thank you, Max.’ She withdrew her hand as she gave him a glittering smile. He responded with one equally false.
‘It explains why you can do no wrong in your husband’s eyes at present.’
Gideon gave a soft laugh.
‘You are thinking of our embrace in St James’s Street.’ He pulled her hand on to his arm again and patted it. ‘An outrageous display of affection in public, of course, but I could not help myself.’
‘Could you not?’ Max’s lip curled. ‘I thought it might be for my benefit.’
‘Good Gad, no,’ exclaimed Gideon, recoiling artistically. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ returned Max, considering. ‘I think it was something Lamotte said to me.’
Dominique froze. A furious retort rose to her lips, but Gideon’s hand was still covering hers and he gave it the slightest squeeze. She remained silent.
‘Ah, yes, Monsieur Lamotte.’ Gideon’s voice was quiet, silky, but no less menacing. ‘Odd that you should deny him one day and the next he is a friend.’
‘I should say he is more of an acquaintance.’
‘A charming young man,’ said Gideon lightly. ‘But French, you know. He is unfamiliar with the way we do things here, especially when it comes to husbands. They can be the most unaccountable creatures, you see.’
‘Can they?’
Max sounded wary and, casting a quick glance at Gideon, Dominique thought that despite his pleasant tone his eyes had never been so menacing.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said softly. ‘I did not realise it until I became one myself, but it seems now that if anyone should try to harm my wife, or even to upset her, then I should be obliged to wreak the most terrible vengeance. I just couldn’t help myself.’
Despite the noise and chatter of the room, a dangerous silence hung around the two men. Dominique could feel the tension and remained still, not daring to do anything that might precipitate violence. At last Max gave her a tight smile.
‘You are to be congratulated, Cousin, you have found yourself an admirable protector. I wish you joy of your bulldog.’
With a curt nod he stalked past them.
‘Do you think he understood you?’ she asked as they continued back to the music room.
‘Oh, yes,’ murmured Gideon. ‘I think he understood me all too well. He will not bother us again.’
Recalling the fury in Max’s eyes, Dominique could not be easy.
‘Gideon—’
‘Hush.’ He held up his hand. ‘We have given your cousin quite enough time this evening. Let us instead listen to the music. This next soprano, I have been told, is quite matchless.’
* * *
Their last weeks in town were very busy. Dominique felt quite low when Gwen departed for Brighton, but she left Dominique a long list of things she considered necessary for a protracted stay in Buckinghamshire.
‘Buy your loose gowns before you go, for there is but one dressmaker in the village, and although you will want to put some work her way you will need more gowns than she can provide. And make sure you buy some warm petticoats. Flannel ones, my love, because the corridors at Rotham can be icy in winter! Then you will need books,’ Gwen continued, counting off the items on her fingers. ‘I left one or two novels at Rotham, but I doubt my father will have anything new, and it is such a fuss to send to London every time one wants a diversion. If you wish to paint, then you should find everything you need in the old nursery.’ She pulled a face. ‘Poor Papa, he insisted we have the very best—tutors, materials, paints, charcoal and sketchpads—but I was a sad disappointment and not at all proficient at drawing or painting. Oh, and buy at least two pairs of stout boots, the lanes become prodigiously muddy...’
She went on for some time and when she had finished Dominique gave an uncertain laugh.
‘You make Rotham sound like something from a Gothic novel, all gloomy shadows and empty, echoing halls.’
‘Well, it is,’ replied Gwen with alarming candour. ‘Since Gideon escaped, Papa has rattled around in that great house all alone, with only an elderly neighbour to visit him.’ Gwen noticed her sister-in-law’s dismay and quickly assured her that Rotham was in no way as bleak as it sounded. ‘The local families will be glad to welcome you, I am sure, and Ribblestone and I will be returning to Fairlawns in December, so we shall only be a few miles away.’
To Dominique, December sounded a very long time ahead, but she put aside her worries and threw herself into preparing to travel to her husband’s family home.
* * *
Travelling in easy stages, they took two full days to reach Rotham. A baggage coach was hired to follow them, the roof piled high with trunks and Dominique’s precious harp packed inside. Dominique rode in the elegant chaise sent up from Rotham for her comfort. Her only disappointment was that Gideon preferred to ride, but since this meant that Kitty could join her in the carriage she was not lonely on the journey, and when they stopped overnight at a prosperous coaching inn there was no lack of conversation with Gideon.
They dined in a private parlour served by the well-trained staff of the inn, who were efficient and unobtrusive. Even so, Dominique kept the conversation to innocuous subjects until at last the covers were removed and they were alone.
‘Tell me about your father,’ she said, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands. Gideon looked nonplussed and she added with a smile, ‘Are you very like him?’
‘In looks, perhaps, but in temperament—my father is very reserved.’
She thought of the long silences she had endured with Gideon, but did not comment upon it and said instead, ‘Is his health poor? Is that why he lives so quietly? Gwen told me,’ she explained, when he raised his brows at her. ‘She warned me that Lord Rotham rarely entertains.’
Gideon gave a crack of laughter.
‘Rarely? He never entertains. However, that must change if you are living there. You must invite whom you please.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘You must not be frightened of my father, Nicky. He might appear cold, but his heart is very generous.’
‘It will need to be,’ she murmured. ‘I bring no dowry.’
‘You must not let that worry you.’
‘But it does, Gideon.’
‘I think Father will be too relieved to know I have settled down to worry about your lack of dowry. You see, he was sorely disappointed when I went off to make my own life in London.’ He was silent while he poured himself another glass of wine. ‘I did not behave well, I admit it. And once in town I fell in with your cousin and his friends. I am not proud of that time.’
After the suffocating discipline of Rotham, Max’s mischievous merrymaking had seemed very attractive. Gideon had willingly participated in the pranks and jokes they played on each other and even on total strangers—boxing the Watch, stealing an old gentleman’s wig, holding mock duels, bribing the coachman to let them take the reins of the stage and race it against one of their own carriages... It had all seemed like harmless fun at the time, but looking back he saw how childish it had been. When he stole that little lightskirt from under Max’s nose it was inevitable that the earl would retaliate, but bullying his innocent little cousin into marriage—!
Glancing up, Gideon saw Nicky’s anxious face and he added quickly, ‘That is no reflection upon you, Nicky. I could not want for a better wife.’
‘But perhaps you could want a more beloved one.’
Gideon frowned.
‘We will not discuss that, if you please. The actress Max employed to impersonate you would not have been acceptable to my family.’
Dominique met his eyes across the table, the wine making her brave.
‘And am I any more acceptable?’
To her surprise the coldness in his gaze was replaced by something warmer, including a hint of laughter.
‘With your grace and dignity and your indomitable spirit—yes, you are, my dear.’
She was inordinately pleased with his answer even though it made her blush rosily. At the same time she felt that strong tug of attraction to the man sitting opposite. His look seemed to burn right through her decorous gown and she could feel her body responding, the breasts tightening, pushing against the restricting material as she imagined his hands caressing her body. It had been weeks since he had touched her like that and she was filled with an indescribable ache to feel his arms around her. She longed to say so, but the words would not come. The silence stretched between them, becoming ever more uncomfortable.
‘It—it has been a beautiful day,’ she said at last, glancing out of the window. ‘It seems a shame that we spent it travelling.’
‘I at least had the benefit of riding. You were shut up in the chaise all day. Perhaps you would like to take a little stroll with me now and catch the last of the sun?’
‘I would like that very much,’ she said, reaching for her shawl.
* * *
The inn was situated on a busy street, but Gideon had noticed a lane to one side and once they had walked a few yards the noise and bustle were left behind. They strolled side by side in companionable silence. The lane was bounded on each side by large fields of ripening corn, gleaming and golden in the setting sun.
‘How long will you stay at Rotham?’ she asked him.
‘Until you are established. I shall drive down to Brighton to see Gwen, then I shall go to Chalcots and see what is needed to make it habitable. I have been thinking we might set up home there.’
‘That is your godmama’s house, near Hampstead? I should so much like to see it.’
‘And so you shall, once your confinement is over. Too much travelling will fatigue you and I would not risk your health.’ His voice was kind, but Dominique’s spirits sank. He did not want her with him.
‘I shall write to you,’ he continued. ‘You shall have your say about the furnishings and the decoration.’
But from a distance.
‘Thank you.’ She could not keep the note of disappointment from her voice and Gideon’s next words told her he had noticed.
‘Believe me, it is best that you remain at Rotham, where Dr Bolton will be on hand if you need him.’
‘But your father will not want me.’
‘You are the mother of his grandchild, of course he will want you at Rotham.’
She nodded. Her first consideration now must be for her unborn child. She shivered.
‘The sun has gone down. Shall we return to the inn?’
Her shawl had slipped to her elbows and as they turned to make their way back to the inn she struggled to rearrange it.
‘Here, let me.’
He pulled up the shawl and her spine tingled with the familiar touch as his hands rested on her shoulders.
Hold me, she begged him silently. Kiss me.
* * *
Gideon’s hands stilled. He could feel the delicate bones of her shoulders through the thin folds of the shawl and the summer gown beneath. Her hair was caught up in a knot, but a few wisps curled darkly against the creamy skin at the back of her neck. He knew an impulse to place his lips there and taste her sweetness, but he feared that would lead him on to a more passionate exchange, so he quelled the desire rising in him and instead lifted the shawl a little higher.
‘There, is that warmer?’
‘Yes, thank you, Gideon.’ She put her hand up over his, where it rested at the side of her neck, and turned to smile up at him.
It was as if someone had knocked the breath out of his body. When had she become such a beauty? Those green eyes with their lush fringing of dark lashes, the straight little nose and soft, full mouth—desire leaped inside him and the blood pounded through his veins. It was all he could do not to drag her roughly against him and ravish her here and now, in this secluded lane.
No! He reeled back. What was he thinking of? This was summer madness, the proximity of a pretty girl combined with the effects of the wine, a good dinner and the balmy summer evening. She had been trapped into marriage with him through very little fault of her own and she deserved more respect than that. In an effort to quell his desire he reminded himself that she was not the woman he had set his heart on, although it was strange that now, when he thought of the bewitching actress called Agnes Bennet, he could hardly recall her face.
Dominique saw Gideon’s eyes darken, felt the jolt of mutual attraction, as if some invisible wire hooked them both, but the hot desire in his glance was quickly replaced by shock and he recoiled from her. She did her best to ignore the chill that filled her soul. She might be his wife, but she was not his love.
Hiding her own disappointment, she suggested they should go back to the inn and immediately turned her steps that way, head held high. This was her life now and she must be content.
