'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.
Chapter Eleven
Dominique's image of Rotham as a sinister Gothic pile faded with her first view of the house. It was bathed in the golden glow of a summer's evening, a many-gabled Jacobean mansion built of red-brick and creamy stone and the windows of the three-storeyed house flashed a fiery welcome, reflecting the glorious sunset.
'Why, it is quite enchanting!' she exclaimed involuntarily.
'Is it?' Gideon leaned forwards to gaze at his old home. 'Yes, I suppose you might think so.'
As the coach pulled up at the front steps he leaped down, ready to hand out his bride. An elderly butler came out to meet them, bowing slightly as he announced that Lord Rotham awaited them in the drawing room.
'Thank you, Colne. I shall take Mrs Albury to him.'
Silently Dominique accompanied Gideon through the small stone porch into an ancient-screens passage. After the sunlight, the passage with its unpolished wooden panelling was very dark and she stopped to let her eyes grow accustomed to the gloom before stepping into the hall. The wainscoting here was equally dull, but the sun streamed in through the windows, the bars of sunlight full of golden dust motes. Swords, shields and antlers adorned the walls. The whole room had the feel of another era, but it looked sadly neglected.
'Is this room never used?' she asked.
'Rarely. When we had house parties everyone would gather here before going out for a day's hunting or riding and we used to hold a harvest supper here for the tenants and their families, but that stopped when my mother died.'
'And where is the drawing room?' she asked as they followed the butler out of the great hall and into another, inner hall.
'Upstairs,' he told her. 'All the principal rooms are on the upper floor.'
'Including the dining room?'
'Of course.'
'And the kitchens?'
'In the basement.'
'A twenty-minute walk, no doubt,' she murmured.
Gideon laughed.
'Exactly!'
They ascended the grand staircase to a wide landing. The house was built around a central courtyard and a series of windows allowed plenty of light into the upper rooms, which led one from the other. The drawing room was the first of these chambers to be entered.
Even to one used to the grandeur of Martlesham Abbey, the drawing room was impressive. Ornately carved panelling covered every wall and the patterns were repeated in the plaster moulding on the ceiling. An elaborate stone chimneypiece dominated the room, the Albury coat of arms emblazoned at the centre of the overmantel. Dominique took in the faded grandeur of the room and the heavy, old-fashioned furniture as Gideon led her forwards to meet her host.
Viscount Rotham had risen from a wooden armchair set on one side of the fireplace and now stood waiting to greet her. She dropped into a deep curtsy, but as she rose she looked up to study her father-in-law. The likeness between the viscount and his son was marked. Both were tall and lean, with the same finely sculpted lips and high cheekbones. Each had hazel eyes set beneath dark brows, but where Gideon wore his auburn hair unpowdered and just touching his collar, the viscount preferred the old style of a curled and powdered wig. He was dressed all in black, save for the narrow ruffles at his wrists and the linen at his neck.
'Welcome, madam,' he said politely. 'Pray sit down. I trust the journey was not too onerous for you?'
'Not at all, my lord. We made one stop overnight.'
'Just one?' Those dark brows rose and he bent his gaze upon Gideon. 'Was that wise, my son? Another night would have given your wife more respite from the rigours of the road-'
'But it was not at all necessary.' She knew an urge to turn and run as two pairs of hazel eyes turned towards her in surprise, but she held her ground. 'Your carriage is so well sprung, my lord, that the miles flew by. I am not at all fatigued, I assure you.'
She was rewarded by a smile from Gideon as he guided her to a sofa, the only padded seat in the room.
'Indeed, Father, we saw Dr Harris before we left town. He assured me that there was no danger in the journey.'
'Nevertheless, I have ordered dinner to be put back, to give you both time to rest...'
The exchanges continued, polite enough, a little stilted, but not unfriendly. Dominique mentioned this to Gideon when he escorted her to their apartments on the top floor and he concurred.
'I am glad you were not intimidated,' he continued. 'Father's style is a little formal, but he is perfectly kind, I assure you.'
* * *
She had to remind herself of this fact when they went down to dinner. It was served in the dining room, another grandiose chamber beyond the drawing room. The long table in the centre was set with all the pomp and formality one could desire. Only Dominique did not desire it.
Conversation was almost non-existent, the food cold, and by the time Dominique returned to the empty drawing room while the gentlemen enjoyed their brandy she was beginning to long for the cosy comfort of Brook Street. Not one to repine, she spent the time alone tuning her harp, which had been set up in one corner of the room, where the big windows overlooked the gardens. She had completed her task and was gently strumming the strings when Gideon came in with his father.
'Since there is no pianoforte here we brought Nicky's harp with us.' Gideon explained in response to his father's look of surprise.
'Indeed?' The viscount's response was cool.
'I hope you do not object, my lord?' asked Dominique quickly.
'On the contrary. Gideon's mother was musical, but when Gwendoline married I had the pianoforte sent to Fairlawns. However, it will be pleasant to have music at Rotham once more.' He gave her a little bow. 'This house has been too long without a mistress, madam. I should be honoured if you would take on that role.'
'Th-thank you, my lord.'
Gideon touched her arm. 'Perhaps you will play for us now, Nicky.'
She complied, happy to avoid the long, awkward silences that had accompanied their dinner. No tea tray had been ordered. When the clock struck eleven she excused herself and retired. She and Gideon had been allocated adjoining rooms, with a connecting door, and she was not displeased when Gideon knocked and entered a short time later.