Lady Beneath the Veil(8)

Once she had lost her temper there had been no way of regaining it  again and when Gideon had kissed her she had reacted instinctively,  taking her opportunity to possess him, if only for one night. She had  given in to pure, wanton lust and now she must pay for it.

* * *

Dressing took some time. Clothing was scattered across the room-one  stocking was dangling from the handle of the linen press and her garters  had disappeared completely. She rummaged through the trunk that Max had  supplied, but soon realised that her cousin's cruel sense of humour was  present even here. The diaphanous nightwear and flimsy muslin gowns  were more suited to a courtesan and had probably been left at Martlesham  by one of Max's numerous lovers. She would have to wear her walking  dress again.

However, she found in the trunk a clean chemise of the very finest  snow-white linen and a pair of silk garters to replace her own  embroidered ones. She considered cutting off the gold tassels from the  garters, but in the end decided to leave them. After all, no one would  see them under her skirts-unless Gideon wished to repeat last night's  passionate encounter.

Oh, if only he would! A delicious curl of desire clenched her stomach  and left an ache between her thighs as she remembered how it had felt to  be in his arms, to have him love her.

Love. How could it be love? Gideon had no reason to think well of her.  And for herself, she had watched him courting the actress, but had never  spoken to him before yesterday. It could only be a savage, primitive  animal attraction, acceptable in a man, but not at all the sort of thing  that a respectable young lady would admit.

* * *

Dominique made her way downstairs. She found the housekeeper in the parlour, spreading a cloth over the little table.

'Good morning, Mrs Albury. I'm setting up breakfast for you here. Mr  Albury thought you would prefer that to eating in the dining room, which  can be draughty when the wind is in the east, as it is today.'

Dominique nodded absently and asked if she had seen Mr Albury.

'Aye, madam, he took himself off for a walk about an hour ago, it being  such a fine morning. Would you like to break your fast now, madam, or  will you wait for your husband to come back?'

'A little coffee now, if you please. I will take breakfast when  my...husband returns.' She stumbled over the words, but she was glad to  have a little longer to compose herself before meeting Gideon again.

* * *

She did not have long to wait. The thud of the front door, footsteps  and the rumble of voices in the hall warned her of his arrival. She  remained at the table, trying to look calm. He strode into the room, his  greatcoat swinging open, his face alight with the effects of fresh air  and exercise. He greeted her civilly, but she saw the sparkle fade from  his eyes, replaced by a closed and shuttered look. She glanced away,  trying not to feel hurt. She gestured to the table.

'There is coffee here, sir, and it is still warm, if you wish for it.'

'Thank you, yes. Mrs Chiswick is bringing in a fresh pot, but that might be some time.'

He threw his greatcoat over a chair and came to sit down. Dominique  poured coffee into a cup and Gideon accepted it in silence. She wondered  if she should say something and was relieved when the bustling entrance  of Mrs Chiswick made speech unnecessary, at least for a while. They  managed to get through breakfast with mere courtesies, but when the  table had been cleared and they were alone again, the silence hung  heavily between them.                       
       
           



       

'We need to talk,' Gideon said at last.

Dominique looked around her, seeking an escape from the suddenly oppressive room.

'It-it is such a lovely morning and I have not yet seen the gardens. Would you mind if we walked outside?'

'Not at all.'

She picked up her cloak and they made their way to the shrubbery, where  the high walls sheltered them from the biting east wind. They walked  side by side, taking care they did not brush against each other. So  different from last night, thought Dominique, when they could not touch  each other enough. It had to be mentioned. She launched into speech.

'About what happened-'

'A mistake,' he interrupted her. 'And one I deeply regret. I apologise, madam, most humbly.'

She answered him firmly, 'I am as much to blame as you.'

'Perhaps, but the consequences for both of us are disastrous.' He paused. 'You realise the marriage cannot be annulled now.'

'Surely, if we return to Martlesham-'

He silenced her with an impatient wave of his hand.

'Do you think anyone would believe the marriage was not consummated?  The servants would be questioned. Mrs Chiswick prepared the bridal  chamber for us, her husband saw me carrying you up the stairs and I'd  wager any money the maid will check the sheets!' He kicked a stone off  the path. 'No, last night's folly is our undoing.'

Folly! That was how he saw the most wonderful experience of her life.  Hot tears prickled at the back of Dominique's eyes, but she would not  let them fall. She swallowed and clenched her jaw so that her voice did  not tremble.

'What do you suggest?'

He looked up at the sky, the breath escaping between his teeth in a hiss.

'Divorce will be my father's suggestion. He abhors the French as much  as I and will strongly oppose the connection. I believe he would even  bear the ignominy of our family name being dragged through the courts.'

Dominique shivered. Was this to be her punishment, to have her wantonness publicly paraded?

'He could arrange the whole,' Gideon continued thoughtfully. 'But that  would mean your taking a lover and I would have to sue him. A  humiliating business for both of us, enduring shame for you. I will not  countenance that.'

'Then what?' she asked. 'Separation? I can go back to Martlesham and live with my mother-'

He shook his head.

'No. Too many people know the circumstances of our marriage. It is unthinkable that they will all remain silent.'

'That is true,' she agreed, bitterly. 'Max has always delighted in bragging about his jokes.'

'And the chance to make me a laughing stock will prove irresistible.'

Dominique stopped.

'What shall we do, then?'

'Brazen it out.' He turned and looked down at her. 'We will continue with the marriage.'

She stared at him, her world tilting alarmingly.

'But...' She swallowed, struggling to push out the words. 'It will be a sham. You love someone else.'

That an actress would be even more unacceptable as the wife for the  future Viscount Rotham did not concern Dominique, only that he loved the  beautiful blonde. Gideon waved aside her objections.

'There are many such marriages in our world. It does not follow that it  must be unhappy. We need only present a united front for a few months,  perhaps a year or so, until the gossip has died down.'

'I have no dowry.'

He laughed, but there was no humour in it.

'Money is one thing the Alburys have in abundance.'

'Then your father will say we are even more ill matched.'

He shrugged. 'Father will come about, especially once you have provided  a grandson to carry on the family name. And after that-if you want a  lover you will not find me unreasonable, as long as you are discreet.  That should not be a problem for you, since you grew up in France. These  arrangements are understood there.'

Not in her world. Dominique thought of her mother, still so very much in love with one man, after all these years.

'Well, madam, what say you?' Gideon asked her. 'Are you prepared to continue with this marriage?'                       
       
           



       

After the slightest hesitation she nodded.

'Yes. Yes, I am.'

After all, what choice did she have?

* * *

It was early evening by the time the post-chaise bowled into Martlesham  village and drew up at a line of cottages. Gideon handed out his wife,  then followed her through the nearest door. He was too tall to enter  without stooping, but he was relieved when he entered the small sitting  room off the narrow passage to find that the ceiling was considerably  higher. The serving maid who had admitted them retired to the nether  regions of the little house to fetch refreshments, bidding Dominique to  go in and greet her mother. The maid had subjected Gideon to a frowning,  silent stare before disappearing. He was well aware that she had been a  party to the hoax and he had no doubt that she was agog to know how  matters stood now. He gave a mental shrug. If his wife wanted to tell  her, then he had no objection. In fact, it concerned him very little: he  was about to make the acquaintance of his mama-in-law.

The little sitting room was comfortably if sparsely furnished. A couple  of armchairs flanked the hearth, where a cheerful fire blazed and a  small table stood by the window, its surface littered with papers. A  silver inkstand rose from the centre of the chaos, like an island amid a  turbulent sea and to one side sat a lady in a dark woollen gown with a  tight-fitting jacket. She was hunched over the table, writing furiously,  and did not appear to notice their entrance.