Lady Beneath the Veil(23)

His body responded immediately to the memory and he struggled to give his attention to her reply.

'Heavens, no. Kitty is merely going to learn a new way to put up my hair.'

'Ah, I see. And what do you do after that? I am busy this morning, but  perhaps later you would like to drive out with me.' He grinned at her.  'We might go to the Park at the fashionable hour and show off your new  hairstyle.'

A shadow crossed her face.

'Oh, I would enjoy that, only I... um... We are going to visit a new  tea garden in Hampstead and I shall not be back until dinnertime.'

'Of course. Then we shall meet again at dinner.'

Gideon pushed his plate away and rose from the table. Why he should  feel disappointed he did not know. The notion of driving out with his  wife had only just occurred to him and was easily dismissed. However,  after spending the morning poring over his accounts, he found the sun  shining in through the study window was too tempting to ignore. It was  not yet the fashionable hour for the promenade and Gideon decided he  would exercise his greys in the Park before it became too crowded. He  sent a message to the stable and ran upstairs to change into his riding  coat and buckskins and to thrust his feet into his glossy top-boots.

By the time he came down again Sam was waiting at the door with the  curricle. The greys were fresh and leaped into their collars as they set  off, but as they swept through Grosvenor Square Gideon spotted his  sister approaching in her open carriage. He waved to her coachman to  stop, bringing his own team to a plunging halt when the carriages were  alongside each other.

'Really, Gideon, we cannot hold up the traffic in this way, I shall be hounded out of the square!'

'I thought Nicky was with you,' he said, ignoring her laughing protest.

'She was, until half an hour ago.'

'Oh. Are you not going to Hampstead with her?'

Gwen's brows rose.

'Hampstead? No, indeed. Why should she go to Hampstead?'

'There is a new tea garden, I believe.' Gwen's blank look made him  frown and the horses jibbed as his hands tightened involuntarily on the  reins. He said, 'She has her maid with her, I take it?'

'No, we sent Kitty home as soon as Dominique's hair was finished. Gideon, what-?'

He cut her short, not wishing to explain anything. With a hasty  farewell he drove on. Plans for Hyde Park were abandoned. He considered  driving to Hampstead, but something told him he would not find Nicky  there. Instead he drove back to Brook Street, and with a curt order to  Sam to walk the horses he went indoors to look for the maid.

He found her in Nicky's bedroom, mending a flounce, and asked her without preamble if she knew where her mistress would be.

Kitty jumped to her feet.

'I-I don't know, sir,' she stammered, dropping a wobbly curtsy. 'She  sent me off from Lady Ribblestone's and said she'd be making her own way  home later.'

'And she didn't say where she was going?'

'N-no, sir.'

'Are you sure?' Gideon bent his frowning gaze upon her. 'Think, girl!'

Kitty stared at him, wide-eyed as she screwed her apron nervously  between her hands. Gideon drew a breath and forced himself to speak  quietly, 'Did she give you no idea of where she might be going?'                       
       
           



       

The maid chewed her lip, frowning in concentration. At last she said, 'She-she did ask me where Cleveland Row might be.'

A cold hand clutched at Gideon's heart. Without a word he strode out of  the room, thundered back down the stairs and out to his curricle. It  did not take him long to find the lodging house, but the servant who  opened the door told him that Lamotte was not at home.

'Has a lady called here for him?' demanded Gideon.

The servant looked blank and shook his head. Even a generous bribe  could not elicit anything more than the information that 'monsewer' had  been out all day, but that he was expected back later, since he had sent  out for a special dinner to be prepared and brought to his rooms that  evening.

Gideon drove back to Brook Street, a mixture of fear and anxiety  fermenting in his head. He tried to think logically. Perhaps he had  misunderstood Nicky. She had many friends-it might well be that she was  on a perfectly innocent outing. After all, she had said she would be  home in time to join him for dinner. Gideon faced up to the fact that  there was little he could do, save go home and wait for Nicky to turn  up.

However, after he had dismissed his curricle and paced once through the  empty house Gideon realised he could not be idle. He changed into his  evening clothes, picked up his hat, gloves and cane and strode off to St  James's Street. If he could find Lamotte, then his main worry about  Nicky would be assuaged.

* * *

No one in any of the hells he visited had seen the young Frenchman that  day. In growing desperation he made for the last one on his list, the  narrow house in King Street that Anthony patronised.

Despite the early hour the rooms were quite full, the heavy curtains  pulled across the windows and the room bathed in candlelight. Gideon  recognised several of the players and was hailed merrily and invited to  join them. He declined politely and continued to ask after Lamotte, but  his enquiries drew nothing but blank looks. No one had seen him.

The Earl of Martlesham was presiding over the faro table in the final room and he looked up as Gideon came in.

'Albury, this is a new departure for you. Will you join us?'

'No, thank you,' he replied shortly. 'I am looking for Raymond Lamotte, do you know him?'

'Lamotte, Lamotte...' Max considered for a moment. 'No, I don't think I do.'

Two of the players glanced up and exchanged looks, their brows raised.  Gideon said nothing and after a moment Max continued. 'What do you want  with the fellow?'

'Ribblestone gave me a message for him,' he said casually. 'It doesn't matter.'

'As you will.' Max waved a hand. 'We are about to go in search of our dinner. Why not come along with us?'

'Thank you, no. I dine at home tonight.'

'With your lovely wife? Gad, sir, but the two of you are inseparable.'

Gideon misliked the smile that spread over the earl's face and his hand  tightened on his cane. Did Max know something? How he would like to  choke the truth out of him! Gideon left them to their play and went back  out into the sunshine. He glanced at his watch. It was past six  o'clock. Perhaps Nicky was home now and waiting for him.

And perhaps not.

He glanced up and down St James's Street, doubt and indecision crowding  his mind. Now she was with child his wife might consider it safe to  take a lover. His hand tightened on the head of his cane. By God, if  that was the case she would soon learn her mistake! Eyes narrowed, his  jaw tight with anger, Gideon strode off.

* * *

Dominique had never spent such a long afternoon. When she had left her  sister-in-law there were still two hours until she was due at Cleveland  Row. She wished she had asked Kitty to wait for her, but Monsieur  Lamotte had told her to come alone and she was afraid that Kitty might  not understand the need for total secrecy. She whiled away her time  wandering in and out of the various shops in Bond Street. She was ill at  ease on her own and found herself purchasing various items-gloves,  ribbons and parasols, as well as a quite hideous bonnet in puce  satin-all of which she ordered to be sent to Brook Street. At last she  judged it time to make her way to Cleveland Row for her rendezvous.                       
       
           



       

She was admitted by a respectable-looking servant, who then directed  her to Monsieur Lamotte's rooms on the first floor. Dominique knocked on  the door and was a little relieved when the gentleman answered in  person. She drew a folded paper from her reticule.

'This is all the information I have on my father.'

He held the door wide.

'Please, come in, madame.' Observing her hesitation, he said gently, 'I  will need to read this through and we can hardly discuss the contents  here on the landing.'

'No, of course.'

She stepped across the threshold into the small, sparsely furnished  room. An old-fashioned armchair and a sofa crowded the empty fireplace, a  sideboard stood against one wall and a small table was placed beneath  the window. A haphazard pile of newspapers and gentleman's magazines on  one of the dining chairs suggested that the table had been hastily  cleared.

Raymond closed the door.

'Pray, madame, let me take your coat. Eh bien, sit down, if you please, and be comfortable.'

Swallowing, she allowed him to remove her pelisse and guide her to the  sofa, where she perched on the edge, her hands clasped nervously in her  lap. Raymond dropped the paper on to the table and went to the  sideboard, where he proceeded to pour wine into two glasses.

'No-not for me,' she said hastily. 'I cannot stay.'

'Just a glass, madame, that we may raise a toast to France.'

She took the glass from him and solemnly repeated the toast, but she  was relieved that her companion then sat down at the table to read her  document. She waited impatiently as he scrutinised every line, asking  the occasional question, and making notes on the edge of the paper with a  pencil. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was nearly six.  She must get back soon. A soft knock upon the door made her jump.  Raymond answered it and after a muted conversation he stood back and a  number of waiters came in, bearing trays.