Lady Beneath the Veil(14)

'How did they know I was in London?' wondered Dominique when they moved on from yet another introduction.

'There will have been something in the society pages.'

Gideon said no more. He had deliberately ordered Judd not to bring the  newspapers into breakfast each morning after he had seen the first sly  reference.





The Hon. Mr A-has brought his new bride to town, but there are rumours  that this is not the Bride he had been expecting, his intended having  been replaced at the very altar by Another. The ceremony took place at  the seat of that well-known trickster, the Earl of M-





Gideon recognised Max's hand behind that entry and he did not doubt  there would be more, which was why he had been so keen that his wife  should make her first appearance in his company. He knew speculation  would be rife, but he had not expected quite so much interest. Why, the  carriages were queuing up to speak to them.

'A new bride always attracts attention,' he remarked after a pause.

'Undoubtedly, but I fear my cousin has been at work to advertise our situation,' she said shrewdly.

Gideon heard the uncertainty in her voice and briefly put one hand over hers.

'I have no doubt he has.' Damn Max. 'Do not worry. If we present a  united front the gossip will soon fade, dismissed as idle rumour.'

'Of course, but...'

He glanced down and saw the crease in her brow, the way she caught her  bottom lip between her teeth. He said gently, 'What is the matter,  Nicky?'

'Max and his friends are still at Martlesham. Would he really send word all the way to London, to make mischief for us?'

'You should know your cousin doesn't like to be crossed.'

'True, and you did rather take the wind out of his sails by not calling  for an annulment. I'm afraid he will make more trouble for you, if he  can.'

For him? Did she have no worries for herself? He shrugged, wanting to reassure her.

'What can he do? When people see that we are perfectly happy together then the rumours will soon die away.'

'I fear that will inconvenience you greatly.'

'Me?'

'Why, yes, if you must be seen everywhere with me, instead of enjoying your own life as you have been used to do.

Gideon was startled at her matter-of-fact tone and rather alarmed, too.  All her concern appeared to be for his well-being, while he had given  very little thought to hers. He had been happy to leave his sister to  look after Nicky, to provide her with the wardrobe she would need for  her new life, but he knew most brides would consider him very  neglectful. Not that Nicky wanted his attentions-she had been very  reserved since their wedding night. True, she had seemed very willing  then, but she had been an innocent and his passion must have frightened  her as much as it had shocked him. It was not how he had expected to  behave with his new wife.

It was one of the things his father had drummed into him, that wives  were fragile, delicate creatures and must be treated with great care and  gentleness. Gideon had not visited her bed again and Nicky had shown no  signs of wanting him to do so. He would need an heir, of course, but  there was plenty of time for that when they were more comfortable  together. Since they had arrived in London he had left her to settle in,  seeing her only at breakfast and for dinner some evenings. He told  himself it was for her sake, but there was something about his new wife  that unsettled him, an unlooked-for attraction that stole up on him when  he was too long in her company and he was determined not to take  advantage of her again, but suddenly it all seemed incredibly selfish.                       
       
           



       

'I beg your pardon,' he said now, painfully aware of his shortcomings.  'I have been very busy, but you have every right to be angry with me for  my lack of attention. Most new brides would be ringing a peal over  their husbands for such behaviour.'

'But ours is a most irregular marriage. I do not expect you to-what is  the term?-live in my pocket.' She shifted in her seat and looked up at  him, her green eyes dark and earnest. 'I want to make you a good wife,  Gideon.'

He did not know how to reply, but stared in silence at the serious  little face framed by dark curls. No wonder the ton was so interested in  his marriage. They had been in town for almost three weeks and this was  the first time they had been seen out together. Well, he thought  grimly, that would change. His friends would look for him in vain  tonight. He would stay at home with his wife.

He did not realise he was still staring at her until he heard Sam's  gruff voice, telling him to mind his horses. Nicky blushed and a shy  twinkle appeared in her eyes.

'Yes, look to your driving, sir,' she admonished him, straightening in her seat. 'You are wandering all over the path.'

* * *

When Gideon informed Dominique at dinner that evening that he was not  going out she could not conceal her surprise. It would be the first time  he had spent the whole evening with her since the night they had  arrived in Brook Street.

'Those who made your acquaintance in the park today will no doubt be  sending you invitations very soon,' he told her, straightening the  cutlery. 'This may be the last opportunity to enjoy a quiet evening  together.'

* * *

When the meal was over Dominique left him to his port and went off to  the drawing room. At first she nervously paced the floor, plumping  cushions and straightening the ornaments, until she took herself to task  for being so nervous. This was her home, too, and she should enjoy it.  What would she really like to do? The beautiful pianoforte in the corner  of the room gleamed enticingly, so she sat down and began to play. She  was so lost in the music that she did not notice the time passing until  she looked up and found Gideon standing by the door, watching her.

'Do go on,' he said, moving into the room and taking a seat by the fire.

Dominique continued until she had finished the Haydn sonata and, as the last notes died away, Gideon began to applaud.

'That was very good, Nicky. And to play without music, you are very accomplished.'

'Thank you, I have been practising here every day, since I discovered  this lovely instrument. I play the harp, too. My mother is very fond of  music and insisted I should learn. When we came to England she badgered  the earl into providing a tutor. The lessons continued until my uncle  died three years ago.'

'And do you sing, too?'

'Yes, a little.'

'Then will you sing for me?'

A flush of pleasure tinged her cheeks.

'Of course. What would you like? An English folk song, perhaps?'

Receiving a nod of assent, she played an introduction, then added her  voice, a little hesitant at first, but as the music took over she closed  her eyes and sang with more confidence. It was a favourite of her  mother's, a haunting love song about a young woman waiting for her lover  to return. The thought of Mama, writing her endless letters, refusing  to give up hope, gave an added piquancy to the song and when at last she  had finished and opened her eyes again, for a moment she could not  recall quite where she was.

'That was quite beautiful.' Gideon had moved closer. 'There is so much I do not know about you.'

His eyes were fixed upon her, dark and intense in the glow of the  candles. A shiver ran down her spine and she felt desire curling deep  inside her.

'We know so little about each other,' she said, trying not to think of  the night they had spent together. He had seen her naked, explored her  body in the most intimate way. Yet they were still strangers.

'Nicky-'

'I have asked Mrs Wilkins to bring in the tea tray,' she interrupted  him hastily. 'And perhaps I should ring for Judd to build up the fire.'

He caught her hand as she walked by him and her fingers trembled in his grasp.                       
       
           



       

'You are afraid of me.'

She dared not look at him.

'Not afraid, no.'

'Then what is it?'

'You said it yourself. We do not know each other.'

'Then we must put that right.' His breath was warm upon her cheek. He  must be bending, perhaps about to kiss the bare skin of her shoulder. If  he did that she knew the slender rein she had over herself would snap,  she would turn and throw herself at him again, and he would know what a  wanton soul she had. She remembered the accusations against the late  Queen of France: that she had been unable to control her lust. She had  seen many such women at Martlesham since Max had become earl, not only  actresses and whores, but also the wives of his so-called friends, all  of them willing to share their favours. Her mother had kept her well  away from those riotous gatherings, but she had heard Max's disparaging  comments and knew the servants viewed them with contempt. Men despised  such women and she was desperate that Gideon should not despise her any  more than he did already.

She said with forced lightness, 'We can relate our histories over a dish of Bohea.'