Lady Beneath the Veil(33)

* * *

They fell silent. It was not the first time the viscount had told  Gideon that a surfeit of love had killed Lady Rotham, that he had been  unable to control his passion. Well, that would not be a problem in this  case: Gideon did not love Nicky.

Even as the thought entered his head Gideon realised it was a lie.  There had been plenty of passion on their wedding night, but since then  he had tried to deny that he felt anything for his wife save animosity  for her French connections. Now, however, as the clock ticked away the  minutes and the night slid quietly and coldly into Christmas Day, he  realised how much Nicky meant to him. He wondered what he would do if he  lost her, if she died before he could tell her how much he loved her.

* * *

The cushions that Dominique had added to the drawing-room chairs made  it possible for the two men to slumber fitfully until the grey light of a  new winter's day filtered through the window. The fire had burned down  and Gideon was becoming aware of the uncomfortable chill around his legs  when the opening of the drawing-room door brought him fully awake with a  jerk.

The butler stood in the doorway, clearly having difficulty in maintaining his impassive countenance.

'Yes, Colne, what is it?'

The elderly butler drew himself up and announced in a voice that shook  slightly, 'Sir-my lord, Mrs Albury's maid has just come downstairs and  told us that her mistress has been delivered of a healthy baby. A boy,  my lord.'

'And Mrs Albury?' Gideon held his breath.

A smile split the old servant's face.

'She is well, sir.'

Without another word Gideon sprang out of his chair and raced up the  stairs, reaching the landing just as Mrs Moss appeared, her arms full of  bedsheets. The woman grinned at him.

'You'll be wantin' to see yer new son, I'll be bound.'                       
       
           



       

'And my wife.'

'Aye, well, she's exhausted, but no doubt she'll be pleased to see you. We've just cleaned her up and the babe, so in you go.'

Quietly Gideon entered the room. Mrs Rainault was standing by the bed, a small snuffling bundle in her arms. She smiled.

'Come and meet your new son, sir.'

Gideon glanced at the red-faced scrap, but quickly turned his attention  to the bed where Nicky lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed.  He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. It was limp and  cool in his grasp, but she gave his fingers a slight squeeze.

'We have a son, Gideon. Are you pleased?'

'Delighted.' He smiled down at her. 'But even more pleased that you are well, Dominique.'

Through the fog of exhaustion Dominique noted his use of her name-the  first time since their wedding night. With a satisfied smile she slipped  away into a deep sleep.

* * *

Dominique's insistence that old traditions should be revived made  Christmas at Rotham more festive than any Gideon could remember since  his childhood, but it was the birth of young Master Albury that gave the  celebrations an added edge. Mother and baby continued to thrive under  the watchful care of Mrs Rainault and the month nurse, and Lord Rotham  ordered that Colne should treat the servants to a few bottles of his  best claret to toast the health of his new grandson, James Jerome  Albury.

With each day the viscount became more cheerful, never more so than on  the first evening that Dominique was well enough to come downstairs for  dinner. She took her place opposite her mother, while Gideon and his  father sat at each end of the small table in the oak parlour.  Conversation was desultory, until the covers were removed and Mrs  Rainault announced that she should be thinking of returning to  Martlesham.

'I have rather neglected my letter writing since being here with you,' she told Dominique, when she protested.

'Surely you can write your letters anywhere,' remarked the viscount.

'Why, yes, my lord, but I have taken advantage of your hospitality long enough.'

The viscount sat back and steepled his long fingers together.

'I wonder, ma'am, if you might consider moving to Rotham? I own a small  house in the village that is empty at present.' He cleared his throat.  'I would like to help you in your efforts to find out what has happened  to your husband-Gideon has told me of your quest, ma'am, and Lord  Martlesham's-er-reluctance to help you.'

Dominique looked up. 'I believe he discarded Mama's letters, rather than frank them.'

The viscount frowned. 'That would not happen at Rotham, I assure you.'

'But we must not raise false hopes,' said Gideon quickly. 'Our lawyer  in London has been looking into the case, but we have had no luck at  all.'

'Rogers is a good man,' said the viscount. 'I am sure he has gone through all the official channels.'

'I believe so, my lord.' Dominique sighed.

'I, on the other hand,' he murmured, 'will go through rather more-unofficial channels.'

Dominique stared at the viscount. He was sipping his wine, that disturbing twinkle in his eyes.

'Would you do that for me, my lord? For Jerome?' Mrs Rainault gave a  tiny shake of her head. 'I beg your pardon, but I know-that is, I am  aware-that you have no cause to think kindly of any Girondin.'

'Dominique has told me your husband advocated moderation. I understand  he gave up the chance to come to England with you because he wanted to  save his king.'

'That is true, my lord, but we have heard nothing for so many years.'

He smiled. 'Let me see what I can do for you, Mrs Rainault.'

* * *

By the end of the evening it had all been arranged. Mrs Rainault would  remain as the viscount's guest until her maid had returned from  Martlesham with her belongings.

'I am amazed and so grateful for your father's kindness,' exclaimed  Dominique, when Gideon escorted her upstairs later that evening.  'Especially when he has as little cause to like the French as-' She  broke off, flushing.                       
       
           



       

'As I have,' he finished for her. 'I beg your pardon, Dominique. I treated you very badly when we first met.'

His use of her name again brought a flush of pleasure to her cheek.

'But the provocation was very great,' she admitted.

'True, but I should not have reacted as I did.' He stopped on the stairs and turned to her. 'Can you forgive me, my dear?'

Forgive him for marrying her? For making her fall in love with him?

'There is nothing to forgive.'

He kissed her hand.

'You are too good,' he told her, moving on. 'It is no wonder that my  father wants to do all he can to help you and your mother.'

'Just to have someone supporting her has made Maman so very happy.'

'And what of you?' he asked her.

'I would just like to know the truth. It has been so long and we have heard nothing.'

He put his hand over hers where it rested on his arm.

'If anyone can find the truth it is my father. Although he has lived  retired for the past decade, he is not without influence.' They had  reached the door of her bedchamber and he stopped, leaning down to kiss  her cheek. 'Sleep well, my dear.'

* * *

It was the end of March when Gideon took his wife and child to  Chalcots. Thomas ran out to open the carriage door, puffing out his  chest to show off his new butler's livery.

'Welcome, Mr Albury, ma'am.'

Silently Gideon jumped out and helped Dominique to alight, leaving  Thomas to assist the maid who was following with the baby. Just when he  thought he could wait no longer for her opinion of their new home,  Dominique squeezed his arm.

'Oh, Gideon, it is lovely.'

He grinned and realised how anxious he had been for her to like the house.

'I hope I have followed all the suggestions you sent me in your letters.' He took her hand. 'Come in out of the cold.'

'Everything is ready for you, sir,' said Thomas when they reached the  hall. 'There is a good fire in the drawing room and Mrs Thomas has set  out wine and cakes, too.'

'Perhaps you would prefer to rest first,' suggested Gideon as he lifted  her travelling cloak from her shoulders and handed it to the waiting  footman.

Dominique did not answer immediately, for she was issuing instructions  to the maid to take Baby James upstairs. Then, tentatively, she took his  hand.

'May we look around first? I am not in the least tired, I assure you.  Now that I have a wet nurse to feed little James I no longer have to  coddle myself so.'

'It is not only for our son that I wish you to look after yourself.'

Dominique's heart swelled with happiness at his words. She hoped, now  they had a home of their own, that he might share her bed again and that  his professed affection might blossom into love.

* * *

The house was everything Dominique had imagined. The reception rooms  were light and elegant, the nursery perfect for a growing family. For  her family. Word soon spread that the Alburys were at Chalcots and the  invitations began to arrive, a trickle at first, but after Mrs Albury's  Court presentation they became a flood. She was delighted that Gideon  insisted upon accompanying her to all the balls, parties and receptions,  especially when they met Max at so many of the assemblies.