Читать книгу Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 42
ОглавлениеIf Dominique had not been holding on to Gideon’s arm she would have collapsed, for her knees suddenly felt very weak. She was at last face-to-face with the woman Gideon had expected to marry.
In those months leading up to the wedding Dominique had avoided the woman pretending to be Max’s cousin, but now there was no escape and she forced herself to acknowledge every detail of the beauty who had stolen Gideon’s heart. Agnes Bennet was tall, full-figured and as fair as Dominique was dark. Her golden curls clustered around her head and the whiteness of those smooth bare shoulders made Dominique very aware of the olive tint to her own skin. She hoped her face did not give her away, for Max was watching her carefully.
‘Ah, I was forgetting,’ he said smoothly, ‘you did not meet Mrs Bennet, did you, Cousin?’
The actress laughed, a dark, smoky sound that Dominique thought was sinfully seductive.
‘Of course I’m not really Mrs Bennet, as Mr Albury knows.’ Her blue eyes were fixed upon Gideon. ‘That is merely a convention for the stage—I am not married.’
Beneath the sleeve, Gideon’s arm was hard as steel.
‘I believe it is time we returned to our seats.’ His voice was icy, and with barely a nod towards the earl he turned and walked away, Dominique almost running to keep up with him.
* * *
Damn Max, trying to stir up trouble!
Gideon fought to control his anger as he pushed his way back through the crowd. He should have expected something of the sort. He had spotted Max in the box on the far side of the auditorium, but in the dim light he had not recognised his companions.
‘Gideon, please!’
Dominique’s urgent entreaty pierced the red mist that enveloped him and he slowed.
‘I beg your pardon.’ She was looking up at him, her eyes dark with apprehension, and he muttered through clenched teeth, ‘How dare he try to introduce that woman to you!’
‘Max likes to make mischief. We should ignore him.’
‘You are right, of course.’ Gideon struggled for composure. ‘Come, let us go back to the box. I hope Ribblestone has not murdered Gwen, or Hatfield...or both!’
She rewarded his attempt at levity with a strained smile. When they reached their box Hatfield was standing outside the door.
‘Ah, glad you are back, Albury. Didn’t like to go in on my own, don’t you know.’ He grimaced. ‘Dashed awkward, Ribblestone turning up like that.’
Gideon raised his brows.
‘Why should that be?’ He added, with barely disguised menace, ‘Unless you were intent upon some impropriety with my sister—’
‘Oh, no, no, nothing like that. I am at Lady Ribblestone’s service, of course. Pleasure to be her escort, but nothing more than that, I assure you!’
‘Well don’t act so damned guilty, then.’ Gideon opened the door and stood back to let Dominique enter before him. He waved Hatfield in, but as the man passed he caught his arm.
‘Just how did you secure this box at such short notice?’
Hatfield was watching Lord Ribblestone, trying to discern his mood, and he answered distractedly, ‘Martlesham gave it to me. Said he had booked it months ago, but that now he was engaged to join another party.’
So Max had planned this. Gideon felt the slow burn of his anger as he took his seat for the main performance. From his seat he could see only Dominique’s profile, but when Lady Grayson leaned to whisper something in her ear, the smile she gave in return was forced. The incident in the foyer was not forgotten.
* * *
The performance ended, but although Dominique applauded heartily she could not recall a single scene. Lord Grayson went off to his club and Lady Grayson, oblivious of the tensions in the box, reminded Gwen that they had planned to go on to the rout at Baverstock House.
‘We shall be there in time for supper, is that not what you said, Mr Hatfield?’ Lady Grayson fixed the gentleman with an enquiring gaze and he floundered hopelessly, unwilling to commit himself.
Lord Ribblestone took out his snuffbox.
‘I have ordered the carriage to be waiting and I intend to return to Grosvenor Square.’ He looked towards his wife. ‘Will you come with me, madam?’
Dominique held her breath, willing Gwendoline to go home with her husband.
‘But I am pledged to go to the rout,’ said Gwen, tossing her head.
For a long moment no one stirred. The atmosphere was brittle as glass. Lord Ribblestone put away his snuffbox and Dominique thought she saw the veriest tightening of his mouth.
‘As you will, my dear.’
He departed and Mr Hatfield gave an audible sigh of relief. Gwen did not look very happy with her victory and impulsively Dominique touched her arm.
‘Let Gideon run after Anthony and tell him that you have changed your mind.’
‘But I have not,’ protested Gwendoline, shaking off her hand. ‘La, that I should forgo a party of pleasure to sit at home! If you are ready, Lady Grayson, Mr Hatfield, let us be off to the rout.’
* * *
‘Shall we go home, my dear?’
Gideon placed her cloak about her shoulders and Dominique immediately forgot Gwen’s troubles as his hands lingered for a moment, their warmth seeping through the silk and into her skin. The meeting with Max and Agnes Bennet had dominated her thoughts since the interval. Gideon’s face was a polite mask, but she had no doubt that he, too, was thinking of it. Dominique understood only too clearly why Gideon had wanted to marry the actress. She was everything that Dominique was not—tall, fair and beautiful—and no doubt well versed in the art of pleasing a man.
All through the comic opera Dominique had thought about her. As the musicians played she had heard that dark, smoky laugh, remembered the graceful beauty, the cerulean-blue eyes and painted lips curving into an alluring smile. It was useless to remind herself that she was Gideon’s wife, the mother of his child. If his own father advocated taking a mistress, why should he not give in to the temptation?
In the darkness of their carriage as they drove back to Chalcots he reached for her hand.
‘You are very quiet.’
‘I am fatigued. It has been a long evening.’
‘I hope you are not fretting about your cousin. Or Mrs Bennet.’
‘No, of course not.’ She was glad he could not see her face in the darkness. She added, unable to help herself, ‘She is very beautiful.’
‘Exquisite.’ Her heart sank. ‘But you have nothing to fear from her, Dominique. I have no intention of renewing that particular acquaintance.’
Fine words, but would he be able to resist, having seen her again? Only time would tell.
‘Dominique?’
‘Yes?’
‘You do believe me, don’t you?
‘Yes. I believe you.’
‘That is good.’ He kissed her hand and squeezed it before letting it go so that he could put his arm about her. ‘If there is anything troubling you, anything at all, you must tell me. Do you understand?’
She leaned against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him, the mixture of soap and clean linen and the faint spicy cologne he wore on his skin.
‘I understand.’
But when they reached the house, he kissed her gently and left her at the bedroom door. As he always did.
* * *
Gideon found his wife very quiet the following morning and she did not greet him with her usual sunny smile. He poured himself a coffee and was debating whether to ask her what was the matter when the butler came in to tell him that the carriage had just returned from Brook Street.
‘Ah, yes, thank you, Thomas.’ Gideon put down his cup and addressed Dominique. ‘Rogers told me yesterday that he has a tenant for my father’s house, so I asked Mrs Wilkins to clear the rooms of all our personal effects and send them here. There should not be much, but perhaps you would like to tell the servants where you want everything stored?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She began to fold her napkin.
Gideon raised his brows.
‘You do not need to dash off immediately, my dear. The luggage will wait.’
‘‘No, I—um—I have finished here, thank you. I shall deal with it now.’
Gideon watched her go, a faint crease in his brow. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, but surely they were not caused by the events at the theatre, for he had reassured her that she had nothing to fear. Seeing Agnes on Max’s arm had been a shock, but Gideon was surprised at how little he now felt for the woman. Perhaps Dominique was fretting over the baby. He decided he would visit the nursery when he had broken his fast, but when he got there Nurse assured him that Baby James was giving no cause for concern. He went off to his study, still frowning.
Was Gwen’s behaviour causing Nicky to be anxious? There was no doubt that his sister was playing a dangerous game with her flirts and cicisbeos. Gideon did not believe she had taken a lover, but if she meant to make Ribblestone jealous by her actions then he feared she would find herself far off the mark. They were dining at Grosvenor Square that evening, so perhaps he would take the opportunity to drop a word of warning in Gwen’s ear. Anthony was as easy-going as a man could be, but he would only stand her nonsense for so long. Gideon tried to think what he would do if Dominique were to tease him in the same way and was shocked at the anger that shot through him. He was obliged to push the idea away as he sat down at his desk and began to go through the post that Thomas had left there for him. If there was nothing urgent he would find Dominique and invite her to ride out with him. That might help to dispel whatever worries had driven the smile from her eyes.
The pile of letters was small: a few tradesmen’s bills, a note from Rogers, confirming the arrangements for letting the house in Brook Street, and a small, sealed note that had been delivered by hand. He broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his jaw tightening as he read through the neatly written lines.
* * *
Dominique stood in the hall, looking at the boxes, bags and portmanteaux before her. She consigned them all to the attics, with the exception of the battered and corded trunk that Max had sent from Martlesham. Her eyes dwelled thoughtfully on the door to the oak parlour, where Gideon was finishing his breakfast, then with sudden decision she directed the servants to take the trunk to her bedchamber.
* * *
Mindful of the instructions in the letter, Gideon drove to Piccadilly and left Sam in charge of the curricle while he made his way on foot into Green Park. He strode quickly to the area between the reservoir and the Lodge and as he approached, a cloaked figure turned and he found himself looking into the beautiful face of Agnes Bennet.
‘We’d best walk on,’ she murmured. ‘It will look less suspicious if anyone should see us.’
There was a flatness to her vowels that he had not heard before. She was no longer trying to pretend she was a lady.
‘You wanted to see me,’ he said, falling into step beside her.
‘Lord Martlesham ordered it.’ She met his sceptical glance and looked away quickly. ‘He threatened to break my arm if I did not do so. He wants me to make mischief between you and your wife.’
‘And do you think you can?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t even want to try. Making trouble between a man and his wife ain’t my style. Martlesham played you both false last year when he contrived your marriage.’ She paused. ‘I wasn’t easy about that, but if I hadn’t done it he’d have found someone else. And he was paying me so very well it was impossible to refuse. I thought it would be a little harmless jollity—’
‘Harmless!’
She flushed.
‘I did not realise he meant to carry it through to a full marriage ceremony. When I heard—’ She looked up at him. ‘That was a cruel trick to play on you and on the young lady. I apologise.’
‘Is that why you wanted to meet, to salve your conscience with an apology?’ Gideon could not stop his lip curling in derision. ‘Is that the important matter you wanted to discuss?’
‘No! No, although I am glad of the opportunity to tell you I regret my part in the whole thing.’
‘What, then?’
‘I’ve information for you, about your wife’s dowry.’
‘My wife has no dowry. You yourself informed me of the fact when you were impersonating her.’
‘That is what Martlesham told me and what he wants you to believe.’
‘And now he wants you to tell me differently.’
‘No.’ She sighed. ‘I had best explain. When Martlesham returned to town this spring he sought me out. He wanted to make me his mistress.’ She gave a humourless little laugh. ‘I am aware of my attractions, but I knew that was not the whole of it, because when I refused his advances he still took me to live with him—made it impossible to refuse him, if you want to know the truth. He believes you’re still in love with me—no need to tell me that ain’t true because I could see as much last night.’ She paused and looked up at him, a sudden smile lighting her eyes. ‘We enjoyed those weeks together last spring, didn’t we? But it was never going to last, I knew that.’
Looking down into her face, she did not seem quite as bewitching as he remembered. She was still beautiful, but somehow the perfect features and intensely blue eyes failed to rouse any desire in Gideon. Her smile grew rueful, as if she could read his mind. With an expressive little shrug she continued.
‘Max installed me in his London house, where he parades me in front of his friends as his mistress—he hasn’t yet got me into his bed, but he will, in time.’ She rubbed her arms and shuddered a little. Gideon had the impression that she was not at all happy with her current situation. ‘He made me give up the stage and insists I remain in the house, even when he is out at some entertainment. The servants ignore me when they can, which suits me very well. I have spent my time exploring.’ She looked up, her blue eyes cold as ice. ‘I will tell you now, Gideon, that I do not like Martlesham. He is a cruel man.’
‘Then why don’t you leave him?’
‘I intend to, but he is powerful, so I have to be careful. Whenever I am alone in his house I spend my time looking through his papers, trying to find something to give me a hold over him.’
‘And have you succeeded?’
She shook her head.
‘No. He is as careful as he is bad and most of his papers are in a strong-room. However, there is a locked drawer in his desk—he keeps the key, but it is a simple matter to open it.’ She grinned. ‘I knew a picklock once, and he showed me how to do it. At the back of the drawer I found some letters from France, from Jerome Rainault.’
‘My wife’s father,’ said Gideon. ‘But surely they are in French?’
Agnes nodded and allowed herself another smile. ‘They are, but that language is something else I picked up in my career! The letters were written years ago, to Max’s father. Monsieur Rainault consigns his wife and daughter to the earl’s care, but he is also anxious that little Dominique should have a dowry. He transferred a large amount of money from a French bank to Coutts, in the Strand. Martlesham holds it in trust for Mrs Rainault and her daughter.’
‘They certainly have no money now,’ said Gideon, frowning.
‘I know,’ replied Agnes. ‘The earl told me that Mrs Rainault and her daughter were his pensioners.’
‘Then it is all spent.’
‘That was my thought,’ she said slowly. ‘Until I saw a letter yesterday morning, from Coutts, concerning the Rainault funds. They have never been touched and Max wants them transferred to his own account.’
‘The devil!’ exclaimed Gideon. ‘I must see these documents.’
‘I thought that might be the case.’
‘You did not bring them with you?’
‘No, it was only after I saw you and your wife at the theatre last night that I decided to tell you, and I have not had a chance to get back into Max’s study.’
‘Why?’ Gideon stopped and turned to face her. ‘Why should you want to help me now?’
She spread her hands.
‘I told you, I don’t hold with the earl’s trickery. I’m up for a bit of fun, but he carried it too far, making that poor chit marry you. And you don’t need to tell me that he forced her into it, because I know his ways. And besides...’ she wrapped her arms around herself again, as if for protection ‘...I should be glad to see his lordship get a taste of his own medicine.’
‘Do you think you can still get those papers?’
‘Yes. The earl will be out tomorrow morning, taking his boxing lesson. That will be my chance. He ordered me to see you—to entice you—so he will not be surprised if I want the carriage again.’ She stopped and Gideon noticed that they had come full circle. ‘Meet me here again tomorrow, at noon.’
He hesitated.
‘You realise the risk, if Max should discover what you are about—’
She laughed. ‘He won’t. Don’t you worry about me, dearie. I have funds. He doesn’t know my real name, nor that I have a house of my own in Covent Garden that I rent out. I bought it with the money he gave me for my performance as his cousin. I shan’t hang around once I have given you the papers. But first, I want to pay him back, just a little.’
With a nod she left him, hurrying away through the trees, never once stopping to look back.
* * *
Gideon drove back to Chalcots, barely noticing the route. If what Agnes said was true, then Dominique was not the penniless bride she thought herself and he knew how much it would please her to know that. It was a risk, of course. This could be one more elaborate plot by Martlesham to drive a wedge between them, but instinct told him Agnes was sincere.
Should he tell Dominique? He had promised her he would not renew his acquaintance with Agnes, but surely this was different. And it might all come to nought. As he deftly turned the curricle through the gates and bowled along the drive towards Chalcots he decided he would say nothing until he had the papers and knew them to be genuine. If they were, then Dominique would be delighted and he was beginning to realise just how much her happiness meant to him.
* * *
Dominique stood alone in her bedchamber and gazed at the open trunk. She remembered when she and Gwen had sorted through its contents, pulling out shifts and negligees, finely embroidered stockings and gowns of such sheer muslin they could be folded and packed into a pocket book. Highly improper, all of them. The sort of things a mistress might wear. She lifted out a filmy negligee. It was so fine that her hands were visible, even through two layers of muslin. In her mind’s eye Dominique could see Agnes Bennet wearing such a gown, standing before Gideon, offering herself to him.
‘No! No, she shan’t have him.’
‘Did you call me, ma’am?’
Dominique quickly dropped the gossamer-thin garment back into the trunk and was closing the lid as her maid came into the room. A shimmering gown rested across her arms.
‘I was just looking out your green sarcenet, ma’am, for you to wear this evening, but if you would like something else...’
‘I would like something else,’ declared Dominique. ‘Fetch me my ruby satin, if you please.’ She glanced at the trunk. ‘But before that, bring me a glass of ratafia—a large glass, I think.’
* * *
An hour later she went downstairs, a fur-lined cloak over one arm, her free hand gripping the bannister. Perhaps it had not been wise to have a second glass of liqueur, but the idea of seducing her husband was rather alarming, and she felt in need of a little sustenance.
A footman jumped to open the drawing-room door for her and as she entered she had to resist the urge to pull up her low décolletage. Gideon was standing by the sideboard, pouring himself a glass of wine, but the rustle of her skirts alerted him. He glanced up.
Dominique experienced no little satisfaction as his eyes widened and the hand pouring the wine shook, spilling a few drops on to the white tray cloth. Gideon cleared his throat and bent a searching look upon her.
‘Is that a new gown?’
‘No, sir. I wore it to the Graysons’.’
There was a fine pier glass fixed atop the walnut console table and Dominique stopped before it to consider her appearance. The last time she had donned this gown she had put on a demure white-satin petticoat with puff sleeves and a wide lace edging that had discreetly covered her bosom. Now she wore one of the shifts from the trunk. The effect was quite startling. Instead of tiny white sleeves covering her shoulders the muslin was so fine it was almost transparent and the delicate lace around the neck merely drew the eye to the low neckline and the deep valley between her breasts.
Gideon came to stand behind her and she met his eyes in the mirror.
‘The colour suits you,’ he said. ‘And the way you have of dressing your hair.’ He raised his hand to touch the solitary ringlet hanging down and as his fingers grazed her skin she drew in a sharp breath. His hand moved from the curl to her neck. ‘Dominique—’
The soft knock on the door made them jump apart.
‘Sir, madam. Your carriage is at the door.’
Dominique noted Gideon’s blank look and it was a full minute before he could respond.
‘Ahem, yes, of course.’ Gideon drank down his wine, then picked up her cloak and placed it about her shoulders. ‘I could almost wish we were not going out this evening.’
The quiet words sent a delicious thrill running down her spine. So far her plan was working admirably. She peeped up at him through her lashes.
‘We need not stay for supper.’
Gideon was silent as he accompanied her to the door and a glance showed her that he was looking quite bemused. He said, when they were seated together in the coach, ‘Has anything occurred today, my dear? A visitor, perhaps? You seem...different.’
‘No, I have been at home alone all day.’ She tucked her hand in his arm. ‘That is why I am glad of your company tonight.’
* * *
Gideon said nothing, but he did not disengage himself and when they arrived in Grosvenor Square he helped her down and kept his hand firmly over hers as he accompanied her into the house. Lady Ribblestone’s brows rose when she saw them, but a number of other guests had already arrived, so there was no opportunity to speak privately then or during dinner. It was not until the ladies retired that Gwen managed to draw Dominique aside.
‘My dear, I have not seen that muslin on you before. It is outrageously revealing. What are you planning, you naughty puss?’
‘I am fighting for my husband, Gwen.’
‘If you are not careful, you will be fighting off everyone else’s,’ said Gwen frankly. She added, with the ghost of a sigh, ‘Even Ribblestone could not take his eyes off you tonight.’
Dominique spread her fan.
‘I have no interest in other men. I do not want to make my husband jealous, I just want him to notice me.’
‘Well, you will, love, you mark my words,’ retorted Gwen. ‘Gideon must be made of stone if he doesn’t realise that every man is looking at you tonight.’
* * *
If he had heard his sister’s words, Gideon could have assured her that he was feeling anything but stonelike. The sight of Dominique in that red gown was teasing him to distraction. He found it difficult to converse and even when the ladies had retired he wondered what she was doing in the drawing room, if she was thinking of him. He had frequently found her looking at him during dinner, although every time their eyes met she would blush adorably and glance away. Damnation, he wanted her so badly he could hardly sit still! And he wasn’t the only one to notice her. Every man in the room looked her way at some point—even old Mr Severn, who was seventy if he was a day, had raised his quizzing glass and positively ogled her.
And yet it could not be said that Dominique flaunted herself. She behaved with great modesty and charm all evening, but however frequently her eyes alighted on Gideon, he found it was not enough. He wanted to steal her away and keep her to himself.
