Читать книгу Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 45

Chapter Eighteen

Dominique flinched as Gideon strode in, Anthony close on his heels. Both men looked tired and grim, but fury blazed in their eyes. Gideon broke the silence.

‘Well, ladies. This is a merry dance you have led us.’ His voice was hard, his anger barely contained.

Dominique drew herself up.

‘Hardly merry, sir. I did not come here out of choice, I assure you.’ She stepped back, as if to hide behind Gwen, when Gideon made to approach. ‘Lord Rotham says I need not speak to you unless I wish to do so.’

‘By God, madam, you are my wife and you will—’

‘Yes, I am your wife, sir,’ she flashed, ‘and you would do well to remember it!’

Turning on her heel, she dashed from the room.

‘Dominique, stop.’ Gideon ran after her. ‘For heaven’s sake, woman, hear me out—!’

As his voice died away Anthony shut the door and stood with his back pressed against it.

‘So, you are teaching little Dominique your flighty ways.’

‘I have taught her nothing, my lord.’ Gwen watched him warily. There was something different about Anthony. A tension, like a predator, ready to spring. The anger still glowed in his eyes, but she noted also the dark shadows beneath. She said suddenly, ‘Have you travelled all night?’

‘How else do you think we managed to get here so quickly? And a curricle is not built for sleeping, I can assure you.’

‘I suppose you expect me to come back to London with you.’

‘Not immediately. You have not forgotten our last conversation, I hope?’

‘Of course not, and I really did mean to support you. I appreciate how hard you have been working these past few weeks, what with the peace breaking down, and Bonaparte doing all he can to buy more time with his tricks and stratagems—but you must see that this was an emergency.’

‘I see nothing of the sort. I told you I would stand for no more of your games, madam.’

‘Flirtations, you called them,’ she responded, trying to conceal her unease. ‘This was not like that, I was helping my sister-in-law—’

‘Yes, helping her to run away from her husband. It would have been better for everyone if you had encouraged her to have this out with Gideon at Chalcots.’

‘La, I vow you are grown very censorious, my lord.’ She tossed her head. ‘I shall not stay—’

‘You will stay, madam, until I have finished with you.’

She stepped back, eyes widening with apprehension.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Something I should have done a long time ago.’

He turned the key in the lock and advanced towards her.

* * *

Dominique’s headlong flight from the breakfast room caused the servants to jump aside to avoid a collision and she had reached the stairs before Gideon caught up with her.

‘Dominique, listen to me!’

He grabbed her arm, but the fury blazing in her eyes when she turned to him made him release her again.

‘Why should I listen to you, when all you tell me are lies?’

‘No, believe me—’

‘You told me you would not see Agnes Bennet and within days you were meeting her secretly. I saw you, Gideon, in Piccadilly.’

‘Yes, but that was because she had news, about Max.’ She waved her hand, dismissing him, and sped up the stairs so that he was obliged to run after her. ‘Will you listen to me, you hellcat? I did this for you!’

She had reached the landing, but his words made her turn, her lip curling in disbelief.

‘Oh, yes, that is very likely! You met with the woman you love, the woman you wanted to wed, for my benefit!’ She dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘You should never have continued with the marriage, Gideon.’

‘I had to, after what happened on our wedding night.’

Even as the words left his mouth Gideon realised his mistake. He saw the misery flash across her face and reached out for her.

‘Dominique, I did not mean—’

She pushed him away.

‘Oh, I know very well what you mean. You cannot forget that I am half French, can you? You abhor that part of me, even though you might desire my body. But that is how men are, is it not? They c-cannot resist the temptations of the flesh. Our marriage has never been anything more for you than a shackle, a yoke that you do not want.’

‘No!’

‘You were too honourable to put me away quietly.’ She continued as if he had not spoken. ‘But how I wish you had done so, for it would have been better than this!’ She took a deep, steadying breath before saying icily, ‘You need have no fear, sir. I know what is expected of me. You will want more children, of course, but pray give me a little time to become a-accustomed to your, your diversions before you demand that I resume my role as your wife.’ She shuddered. ‘And do not expect me to take any joy in it. You have killed that. I cannot love a man who thinks so little of me.’

Stunned, he remained rooted to the spot while she whisked herself away and into her room. He heard the key grate in the lock, and the heart-rending sound of her muffled sobs from the other side of the door.

Her last words lodged in his heart like a knife. He raised his arm to knock on the door, but realised the futility of it. Slowly he made his way back to the empty drawing room, where he sank down in a chair and stared blankly before him.

* * *

How long he remained there he had no idea, an hour, maybe two. He heard the door open and looked around as Gwendoline and Anthony entered, hand in hand. He scowled at his sister, who looked unaccountably cheerful. Gideon realised Anthony was regarding him and he raised his head, saying bitterly, ‘You were right, Anthony. I should have told her I was meeting Mrs Bennet.’

‘You explained to her the circumstances?’ said Anthony, holding up a hand to silence Gwen’s questions.

‘I tried, but she will not listen. All she can see is that I broke my word. She thinks I see our marriage as a burden.’

‘And is it?’ asked Anthony quietly.

Gideon dropped his head in his hands

‘At the beginning it was...difficult. But now—’ He took a breath, facing the truth. ‘Now, I cannot contemplate living without her.’

‘Oh, Gideon—!’

Gwen’s sympathetic utterance was cut short as the door opened again and the viscount came in. Lord Rotham nodded to his daughter and son-in-law and addressed Gideon.

‘Ah, my boy. I was informed that you had arrived.’

‘As you see, Father.’ Gideon rose, nodding at the lawyer following his father into the room. ‘Mr Rogers. I called at your offices yesterday, but you were already on your way here. Before you go back to town, I would be obliged if you would see Mrs Rainault and ask her to appoint you to act on her behalf, then you must call upon Coutts, the bankers in the Strand. They are holding a considerable sum of money for her, including a dowry for my wife.’

‘A dowry!’ declared Gwen. ‘But why? How—?’

‘Martlesham,’ said Gideon shortly. ‘Jerome Rainault sent letters to the old earl, instructing him to hold his fortune in trust for his family. Max was planning to keep it for himself.’

‘Rogers will, of course, carry out your instructions, my son.’ The viscount moved to his usual seat beside the fire. ‘But first he has some news for you.’

* * *

So Jerome Rainault is alive,’ said Gideon, when everything had been explained.

‘We believe so,’ said the lawyer. ‘Lord Rotham hopes to get him to England very soon.’

‘How?’ asked Gideon, frowning. ‘Bonaparte will not want to let him go.’

Lord Rotham nodded.

‘You are right, it must be done carefully. I am sending a courier tonight.’

‘I will go.’ Gideon’s announcement was met with silence.

‘Out of the question,’ said the viscount at last. ‘It is far too dangerous.’

‘Rainault is my father-in-law. Who else should go?’

‘Anyone,’ cried Gwen, her face pale. ‘How can you even think of it, knowing what happened to James—?’

‘Precisely because of what happened to James,’ replied Gideon. ‘My brother was heir to Rotham. I should have been the one to go to Paris all those years ago.’

‘No,’ said Lord Rotham. ‘I ordered you both to remain in England. James disobeyed me.’ He sighed. ‘He was as stubborn and hot-headed as the rest of the Alburys, in his own way.’

Gideon met his father’s eyes steadily. ‘I have to do this, sir, if only to show my wife that I do not have an implacable hatred for all Frenchmen.’

‘No, you cannot go.’ Gwen jumped up from her seat and ran to Gideon. ‘Think, my dear. You are heir to Rotham now.’

His mouth twisted into a wry smile.

‘And my heir is presently sleeping in his crib upstairs, so the succession is safe.’

Gwen gave a little huff of impatience and turned to her husband.

‘Ribblestone, pray tell him he must not do it.’

‘I will,’ said Anthony. ‘Not for the reasons you have given, but because from today the difficulties of getting anyone in or out of France are increased a hundredfold.’ He surveyed the company for a moment. ‘It can make no odds if I tell you now, for you will learn of it in tomorrow’s newspapers. We have today declared war on France.’

After a moment’s horrified silence, Gideon shook his head.

‘It makes no odds. I am still going.’

* * *

The argument raged on, but at length Gideon convinced them all that he would not be moved and suggested to his father they should discuss how it was to be done. Mr Rogers rose.

‘My work is finished here, my lord, so if you will excuse me I shall visit Mrs Rainault and advise her of the news.’

Ribblestone took out his watch, ‘And we can do no more good here, so we will go to Fairlawns.’

With a bow he ushered his wife to the door.

‘Ribblestone!’ Gideon’s peremptory call stopped Anthony at the door. He looked back, brows raised. ‘So you and m’sister have made it up. How did you do it?’

Ribblestone regarded him for a moment, a faint smile touching his lips.

‘Well, if you want the truth—and begging your pardon, Lord Rotham—I gave her a damn good spanking!’

With that, and another slight bow, he went out and shut the door.

* * *

By the time Gideon accompanied his father into dinner their plans had been made. Only two places were set, Colne informing them that Mr Rogers had departed to catch the night mail and Mrs Albury had requested a tray to be sent up to her room. As soon as they were alone, Gideon explained about his meetings with Agnes Bennet.

‘I should have told Dominique about it immediately, Father. It was a serious misjudgement.’

‘We are both guilty of that where your wife is concerned,’ replied Lord Rotham, sadly. ‘Your mother was never strong and I should have taken better care of her, but my mistake was to persuade you that all ladies were so delicate. When you brought Dominique to Rotham, she quite stole my heart and I became morbidly anxious for her. If I have somehow caused this estrangement between you, then I am very sorry for it.’

Gideon listened in silence. It was the first time that his father had ever unbent enough to make an apology and he realised how much it had cost him. He looked up and met the old man’s eyes.

‘You are not at fault, Father. I have been a fool, but I shall do better in future, when I get back from France.’

If I get back.

The words hung between them, unspoken, but Gideon knew that they both silently acknowledged the risks.

* * *

They had not quite finished their port when Colne announced another visitor.

‘I have shown him into the study, my lord, as you instructed.’

‘My original courier,’ explained the viscount as the butler withdrew. ‘He will accompany you as far as the coast, but after that you will travel alone until you meet up with your contact in Paris. How is your French?’

‘A little rusty, but it will suffice. Come, let us get this over.’

* * *

An hour later Gideon went to his room to change for his journey. Once he was ready he walked to the connecting door that led to Dominique’s bedchamber and after the briefest of knocks he walked in. She was standing before the fire, rocking the baby in her arms and crooning a lullaby.

Gideon glanced at the waiting servant. ‘Please leave us.’

The nursemaid hesitated, glancing uncertainly at her mistress. Dominique handed her the baby.

‘Take little James back to the nursery, if you please. I shall come to him later.’

Her tone was gentle, but as soon as they were alone she regarded Gideon with a stony glare, anger emanating from every rigid line of her body.

‘What do you want?’

‘To talk to you.’

‘There is nothing to say.’ She turned her back on him. ‘Please leave me.’

‘I am leaving. I am going away. Tonight.’

‘Good.’

Her hands were clasped around the bedpost, as if to support herself. Gideon continued quietly, ‘Agnes found proof that Max was holding your father’s fortune. I wanted to make sure it was true, that I could secure the money for you and your mother before I told you. I was wrong to keep it from you. I beg your pardon for that.’ There was no reaction, no movement at all from the silent figure before him. ‘I am going to France, to find your father and bring him back. Perhaps that will prove to you that I don’t hate you, or your French blood.’ He stopped. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, exhaling slowly. ‘No, it is more than that. My anger has been misdirected for years. I used it to disguise my hatred of myself. You see, my French was always better than my brother’s. I might have survived.’ He rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘There is not a day goes by that I do not wish I had disobeyed my father and gone to France instead of James. I thought Father’s keeping me here was a punishment for allowing James to die—in fact, it was because he was afraid of losing me, too. I understand that now, because I finally know what it is to love someone so much that you cannot bear to contemplate life without them. Dominique, you say you cannot love me. I understand that. I promise you I shall never force my attentions upon you, if they are unwelcome. But I hope, when I return, that we may be able to salvage something from this mess.’ He paused, his eyes fixed on her rigid, unyielding back. ‘Will you not wish me God’s speed?’

He waited, but when she made no move he turned on his heel and left the room.

* * *

Dominique heard the door click shut behind him. Her hands were clenched so tightly around the bedpost that the carvings cut into her skin. She had wanted to run to him, to cast herself on his chest and beg him to be careful, but her anger held her silent and immobile. She could hear his steps in the corridor, that firm, familiar stride, the tap-tap of his boots on the boards, gradually dying away to silence. With a sob she threw herself across the room and wrenched open the door.

‘Gideon, wait!’

She flew along the passage and to the stairs. From the central stairwell she saw only the flapping edge of his greatcoat disappearing into the hall below. Desperately she sped down the remaining stairs. She could hear the rumble of voices and even as she reached the hall she heard the heavy thud of the door being closed.

‘Colne, Colne, tell him to wait!’ she called out as she ran. The butler opened the door again as she came up and she dashed past him and out on to the drive.

The moonlight showed her one figure already mounted, and Gideon with his foot in the stirrup. When he saw her he stepped away from the horse and without pausing she hurled herself at him.

‘Oh, Gideon, I am so sorry, so sorry!’ His arms closed around her and she cried into his shoulder. ‘I was so j-jealous when I saw you with her and I quite lost my temper. Please don’t go without saying you forgive me.’

He gave a shaky laugh.

‘There is nothing to forgive, love.’ He put his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. With the moon overhead his face was in shadow, but she could discern the glint of his eyes and it tugged up that now familiar ache of desire deep in her belly. ‘Wait for me.’

‘Must you go?’ she murmured between kisses.

‘Yes. I have to do this. For you, for Tante and the duc. For James.’

‘Not for my sake! Please, I could not bear to lose you now. And no one can blame you for obeying your father.’

‘Only me. At the very least I should have gone with James—I can never forgive myself for letting him go to France alone.’

‘Then your father might have lost both sons and I would never have known you.’ She cupped his face between her hands and gazed up at him. ‘I love you, Gideon. So very, very much. Promise me you will be careful.’

‘Of course.’ His grin flashed white in the moonlight. ‘I have so much to live for.’

He gave her one last, lingering kiss before putting her from him and mounting up. As he and his companion cantered out of the gates, he raised his hand for a final salute.

* * *

Dominique stood on the drive and watched until the riders were out of sight, then she made her way slowly to the drawing room to join her father-in-law. When he saw her he went over to the sideboard and poured her a glass of Madeira.

‘So you have made up your differences,’ he said. ‘I am glad.’

‘It all seemed so petty, once he had told me where he is going.’

He held out the glass to her. ‘Believe me, my dear, I would have stopped him if I could.’

‘I know, my lord, but he is determined, even if it should prove dangerous.’ Something in the old man’s look alerted her and she sank down on a sofa, saying quickly, ‘What is it, what should I know?’

‘It will be dangerous, my dear. Extremely so, because we are now at war with France again.’