Lady Beneath the Veil(45)

'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.'