Lady Beneath the Veil(46)

'Must you go?' she murmured between kisses.

'Yes. I have to do this. For you, for Tante and the duc. For James.'

'Not for my sake! Please, I could not bear to lose you now. And no one can blame you for obeying your father.'

'Only me. At the very least I should have gone with James-I can never forgive myself for letting him go to France alone.'

'Then your father might have lost both sons and I would never have  known you.' She cupped his face between her hands and gazed up at him.  'I love you, Gideon. So very, very much. Promise me you will be  careful.'

'Of course.' His grin flashed white in the moonlight. 'I have so much to live for.'

He gave her one last, lingering kiss before putting her from him and  mounting up. As he and his companion cantered out of the gates, he  raised his hand for a final salute.

* * *

Dominique stood on the drive and watched until the riders were out of  sight, then she made her way slowly to the drawing room to join her  father-in-law. When he saw her he went over to the sideboard and poured  her a glass of Madeira.

'So you have made up your differences,' he said. 'I am glad.'

'It all seemed so petty, once he had told me where he is going.'

He held out the glass to her. 'Believe me, my dear, I would have stopped him if I could.'

'I know, my lord, but he is determined, even if it should prove  dangerous.' Something in the old man's look alerted her and she sank  down on a sofa, saying quickly, 'What is it, what should I know?'

'It will be dangerous, my dear. Extremely so, because we are now at war with France again.'





Chapter Nineteen

Days turned into weeks. Dominique busied herself around the house and  looked after her baby. She scoured the newspapers every day, but the  reports only made her more anxious. Bonaparte's fury at being forced  into war before he was ready was manifesting itself in attacks and  imprisonment of the English who had not managed to leave France in time.  If that was the case for innocent travellers, how much worse would it  be for Gideon, if he was caught?

Dominique took some comfort from the fact that Gwen and Anthony were  now much closer-so much so that Ribbleston soon told Gwen of the duel  Gideon had fought with Max and she promptly passed the news on.  Dominique's worst fears-that Max should die and Gideon would then be  wanted for murder-were soon eased when the social pages reported that  the earl had retired to Martlesham Abbey amid rumours that he was  seriously in debt. Dominique could only be thankful that she and her  mother no longer lived under his aegis.                       
       
           



       

There was a small diversion at the end of May when she travelled to  London with her mother to see Mr Rogers and go with him to Coutts' bank.  The dowry her father had set aside for her was signed over and the  remainder of the Rainault fortune was secured for her mother's use, but  the knowledge that Gideon had made this possible only added to  Dominique's unhappiness. She had not thanked him for his efforts and the  fear deep in her heart was that now she would never have the chance to  do so.

* * *

The atmosphere at Rotham became hushed, expectant, as if the house  itself was waiting for news. Mrs Rainault spent so much time there with  her daughter that the viscount suggested she should come and stay again  until Gideon's return.

'And he will return,' he assured Dominique. 'The family has many friends in France, believe me.'

But as the summer wore on even the viscount's confidence wavered.

'I am sure that if it was not for our being here, and little James,  Lord Rotham would return to his reclusive ways,' Dominique told her  mother, when they were strolling in the walled garden one afternoon. The  July sun was beating down, filling the still air with the scent of  roses.

'He has told me how much you have changed his life,' said Mrs Rainault.  'Rotham had grown cold and silent before you came, but he says you  brought it back to life-more than that, you restored his son to him.'

'And I am the reason he has gone away, perhaps forever.'

'You must not talk like that.' Mrs Rainault gave her arm a little shake. 'You must not give up hope, Dominique.'

'But it has been ten weeks. It feels like a lifetime. You have been  waiting for news of Papa for ten years-how, Maman? How have you lived  with the pain, the uncertainty?'

Mrs Rainault smiled. 'With love, my dear. And faith. I always believed Jerome would come back to me, one day.'

Dominique felt hot tears pricking at her eyes. If only she could be so  certain, but she was afraid that she had not earned such happiness.

'Oh, Maman, we have been so foolish, Gideon and I! We wasted so much  time. If only-' She broke off, her head going up as she heard the faint  scrunch of gravel. 'Is that a carriage?' She shook her head. 'No, no, it  is the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. I vow, Maman, I am  becoming quite a nervous being, jumping at shadows...'

But her mother was not listening. She was looking past Dominique  towards the house, such a look of wonder on her face that Dominique  found her breathing interrupted by the rapid thudding of her heart.  Fearing disappointment, she forced her unwilling body to turn. The long  windows leading into the house were thrown open and a tall man stood  there, his thin frame slightly stooped. His white hair was brushed back  from a pale brow and a pair of familiar dark eyes looked out from his  gaunt face.

'P-Papa?'

With a stifled cry her mother ran forwards.

'Jerome? Oh, my love, is it really you?'

The old man stepped out on to the terrace, holding out his arms.

'Mais oui, ma chère.'

Whatever else had changed, his voice had not. It was firm and warm and  brought a host of memories flooding back. Her mother was already in his  arms, weeping softly into his shoulder. Dominique followed more slowly,  not sure of her welcome. Over her mother's head Jerome smiled. He freed  one hand and reached out for her.

'Dominique. Daughter.'

She took his hand and for the first time in many months allowed the tears to spill over.

'Welcome home, Papa.' She moved closer, hugging both her parents before  stepping away. However much she wanted to be part of it she realised  this was their time, two lovers reunited. Lord Rotham was standing in  the doorway, his head bowed. He had one hand over his face and his  shoulders shaking. His image was blurred by her tears, but she was  filled with dread. She had managed to keep her fears buried deep, except  in the dark reaches of the night when the demons would taunt her with  the thought that Gideon would never return. Now those fears leaped free  and she found herself comparing her mother's newfound happiness with her  own bleak future.

But it was not only her unhappiness. She wiped away her tears and went to the viscount, laying a hand on his arm.                       
       
           



       

'Oh, my lord-' There was a movement in the shadowy room behind him and her heart stopped. 'G-Gideon?'

'Yes,' said the viscount, his voice a little unsteady. 'He is here. He is safe.'

He stepped aside and with a sob she flew across the room to the figure  standing in the shadows. Gideon caught her in a fierce hug that lifted  her off her feet. He was dusty from the road and smelled of dirt and  horses, but she did not care, for when he sought her mouth and kissed  her she lost herself in the taste and scent of her own dear husband.

When at last he released her she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.

'Oh, Gideon, I was so frightened you would not come back!'

His arms tightened.

'How could I not, when I knew you were waiting for me?' He put his  fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards him again. 'I  dreamed of this moment every night.' He kissed her again, gently this  time, his lips a soft caress. 'I cannot tell you how much I have missed  you.'

'Let us go and sit down, I want to know everything.'

'Later,' he said, laughing. 'I am far too dirty to sully my father's  furniture. Let us join the others in the garden.' He looked up at the  silent figure standing by the open windows. 'My lord, will you come,  too?'

'Thank you, no. I shall find Colne and tell him to delay dinner by at  least an hour.' He held out his hand. 'I am glad to have you back, my  son.'

'Thank you, Father. I am pleased to be here.' He clasped the proffered  hand for a long moment, holding his father's eyes until the viscount  gave a little nod and walked away.

* * *

Gideon kept his arm about Dominique as he led her out into the garden.  Jerome and Mrs Rainault were some distance away, strolling through the  roses, arms linked and their heads close together.

'They have a great deal to catch up on,' murmured Dominique, following his glance.

'As have we.'

Dominique held him even tighter.

'We read such terrifying reports-was it very dangerous?'

'A little, of course, but we had many people to help us, including some  of the Duc du Chailly's family and friends.' He was silent for a moment  and Dominique waited patiently for him to speak again. 'There are many  good people in France, Dominique. I was wrong to harbour such hatred for  so many years.'