Read Lady Beneath the Veil Online

Authors: Sarah Mallory

Lady Beneath the Veil

BOOK: Lady Beneath the Veil

‘There, ‘tis done,’ said the vicar.

‘So it is.’ The Honourable Gideon Albury smiled down at his new wife. ‘I think we can dispense with this now.’

He reached for her veil, but she quickly put her gloved hand over his.

‘Not yet,’ she whispered.

He laughed. ‘Be careful, my love, I shall begin to think I have married a little prude!’

He expected to hear her delicious throaty laugh but she was silent, merely putting her fingers on his arm as he escorted her to the door.

After the darkness of the stone building the spring sunshine was almost blinding when they stepped outside. He stopped and turned to her again.

‘Now, Miss Propriety, let me kiss you … Good God!’ He stepped back, his eyes widening with horror as he looked down into the face of a stranger.


The very first page in LADY BENEATH THE VEIL is, in fact, the very first idea I had for this story. I wanted to explore what would happen if a man suddenly found himself married to a woman he had never seen before. Of course this is not a new idea—throughout British history many sons and daughters of the aristocracy have been married off for political or economic reasons to virtual strangers—but this was to be no reasoned alliance: it was to be a cruel hoax.

You might think that no one would play such a trick … Well, one only has to look into history to see that life in Georgian England could be cruel and brutally short and, as if in response, the Georgians could be tough, crude and boisterous. There are the much-recorded practical jokes of Sir Francis Blake Delaval, of Seaton Delaval in Northumberland, who played the most outrageous practical jokes upon visitors.

Mechanical hoists were installed so that when unsuspecting guests were undressing the bedroom walls would suddenly be lifted up, exposing them. In one bedroom the bed could be lowered into a tank of cold water, and in another guests would wake to find everything upside down—the whole room inverted—with furniture suspended from the ‘floor’ and a chandelier rising up from the middle of the ‘ceiling’. It must have been a most unnerving experience. One elderly (but rich) widow was even persuaded to marry Sir Francis after a charade involving a fortune-teller and an ‘accidental’ meeting.

So I thought the marriage of Gideon and Dominique might well have happened—but what about the happy-ever-after? Could such a marriage work when it was not the fairytale wedding that either of them had wanted? Well, they struggle, of course, but I think I have found a way for them to resolve their differences and find happiness together. I hope you agree. Please feel you can contact me at

Lady Beneath the Veil

Sarah Mallory

was born in Bristol, and now lives in an old farmhouse on the edge of the Pennines with her husband and family. She left grammar school at sixteen to work in companies as varied as stockbrokers, marine engineers, insurance brokers, biscuit manufacturers and even a quarrying company. Her first book was published shortly after the birth of her daughter. She has published more than a dozen books under the pen-name of Melinda Hammond, winning the Reviewers’ Choice Award from for
Dance for a Diamond
and the Historical Novel Society’s Editors’ Choice for
Gentlemen in Question.
Sarah Mallory has also twice won the Romantic Novelists’ Association RONA Rose
Award for
The Dangerous Lord Darrington
Beneath the Major’s Scars.

Previous novels by the same author:

   (part of
On Mothering Sunday
   (part of
An Improper Regency Christmas

The Notorious Coale Brothers

Look for
Coming March 2014

And in Mills & Boon


And in M&B:

   (part of
Castonbury Park
Regency mini-series)

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks?

To Sally, my best friend through good times and bad.

Chapter One

hose whom God has joined together let no one put asunder!’

The words boomed around the small church, echoing off the walls. The Honourable Gideon Albury grinned down at the heavily veiled figure at his side. Bless her, she was taking maidenly modesty to new heights!

Perhaps she thought it would inflame him, but she did that perfectly well without dressing as a nun. With her voluptuous body, golden curls and cornflower-blue eyes, she was a rare beauty. And that little trick she had of peeping up at him from under her lashes, those blue eyes promising the lush delights to come—his body hardened with anticipation. At last he would be able to enjoy those ample curves to the full!

Not that the little darling had flaunted her charms. She was, after all, a lady—the Earl of Martlesham’s cousin, in fact. He would not else have contemplated marriage without his father’s approval. Depraved as Lord Rotham might think him, he had not sunk so low that he would marry out of his sphere. But ’fore Gad, Gideon had never before seen such perfection in a gently bred young lady. She had allowed Gideon a glimpse of her pretty ankles, his hands had spanned that tiny waist and her plump, snow-white breast had been just crying out to be kissed. By heaven, just the thought of it made it difficult to concentrate on the marriage service. The register was produced. Gideon scrawled his own name carelessly and watched as his bride added her name to his. He guessed that damned veil was making it difficult for her to see because her hand shook a little as she held the pen. As a witness, Martlesham signed with a flourish and grinned.

‘There—’tis done.’

‘So it is.’ Gideon smiled down at his new wife. ‘I think we can dispense with this now.’

He reached for her veil, but she quickly put her gloved hand over his.

‘Not yet,’ she whispered.

He laughed.

‘Be careful, my love, I shall begin to think I have married a little prude!’

He expected to hear her delicious, throaty laugh, but she was silent, merely putting her fingers on his arm as he escorted her to the door.

After the darkness of the stone building the spring sunshine was almost blinding when they stepped outside. He stopped and turned to her again.

‘Now, Miss Propriety, let me kiss you... Good God!’ He stepped back, his eyes widening with horror as he looked down into the face of a complete stranger.

Chapter Two

ominique stood very still, staring up into the shocked face of her new husband. It was all there, everything she had expected: horror, revulsion, disgust. She had known how it must seem to him once the trick was revealed. He pushed his fingers through his auburn hair, disturbing the carefully arranged disorder, while behind them Max’s cruel laugh rang out.

‘Caught you there, Albury!’

‘But I don’t understand. Your cousin—’

my cousin.’

Max chortled and Dominique’s heart went out to the man standing before her. He looked stunned.

As well he might. Instead of the beautiful, voluptuous blonde he had courted for the past two months he was married to a diminutive brunette whom he had never seen before in his life.

‘Is something amiss?’ The vicar looked from one to the other before directing a vaguely worried look towards Max. ‘Lord Martlesham?’

‘No, no, nothing’s wrong,’ declared Max, still chuckling. ‘The groom is struck dumb by the enormity of the occasion, that’s all.’ He began shepherding the guests away from the church. ‘Come along, everyone, the carriages are waiting!’

‘Just a moment!’ The man beside her did not move, except to shake her hand from his arm. ‘Where is Dominique?’

‘Lord, Albury, have you not understood it yet? You have married her!’ Max gave him a push. ‘Come along, man, don’t stand there gawping. Let us return to the Abbey.’

‘Please.’ Dominique forced her vocal cords to work. ‘Come back to the Abbey and all this can be explained.’

Frowning, he grabbed her arm and set off for the gate with Dominique almost running to keep up with him. As was usual with weddings, the path was lined with well-wishers who showered them with rice as they hurried to the carriage. It was decorated with ribbons for the occasion, the Martlesham coat of arms displayed prominently on the door. Without ceremony her escort bundled Dominique into the carriage, climbed in after her and the door was slammed upon them. Max’s grinning face appeared in the window.

‘Now then, Gideon, try to contain your lust until after the wedding breakfast. The journey from here to the Abbey ain’t long enough to tup a woman properly. I know, I’ve tried it!’

Dominique closed her eyes in mortification. The carriage began to move and the raucous laughter was left behind them.

‘So, this was one of Max’s little tricks.’

Dominique looked at Gideon. His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous glitter in his hazel eyes that made her think he might be about to commit murder. She swallowed.


‘And everyone at the Abbey was privy to the joke, except me.’

‘You mother.’

‘Max told me she was too unwell to attend the ceremony.’

Dominique bowed her head.

‘She does not know.
would never have agreed to such a scheme.’

‘I take it the female I knew as Dominique was hired for the part?’

She nodded.

‘An actress. Agnes Bennet.’

‘And a damned good one. She fooled me into thinking she was a lady. Whereas you—’ His lip curled. ‘You may be Max’s cousin, but no true lady would lend herself to this, this

His contempt flayed her. Given time, she could explain to him why she had agreed to Max’s outrageous scheme, but they had already arrived at the Abbey. She waited in silence for the carriage to stop and a liveried footman to leap forwards and open the door. Her companion jumped out first and with exaggerated courtesy put out his hand to her.

‘Well, madam, shall we go in to the wedding breakfast?’

Miserably, Dominique accompanied him into the house.

* * *

‘Now, perhaps you will explain to me what the hell is going on.’

Gideon looked about him at the company assembled in the dining room. The servants had been dismissed and it was only the twenty or so guests who had comprised Lord Martlesham’s house party for the past two months—with the exception of the blonde beauty, of course. The woman he had believed was Martlesham’s cousin. She had been replaced by the poor little dab of a girl who was now his wife.

Everyone stood around, ignoring the festive elegance of the dining table, all gleaming silver and sparkling glass, set out in readiness for the wedding breakfast. His eyes raked the crowd, but no one would meet his gaze.

‘It’s a practical joke, old boy,’ said Max, who was helping himself to a glass of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard.

‘Not one that I appreciate!’ Gideon retorted.

Max turned to him, still smiling.

‘No? Strange, I thought you would, given what happened at Covent Garden last year.’

‘Ah...’ Gideon nodded slowly ‘ that is it. You are paying me back for stealing the divine Diana from under your nose!’

The scene came back to him. He had been one of a dozen rowdy, drunken bucks crowding into the dressing rooms after the performance. Max was paying court to a pretty little opera dancer, but Gideon knew from her meaningful smiles and the invitation in her kohl-lined eyes that she would happily give herself to the highest bidder.

‘Confound it, Albury, I had been working on that prime article for weeks, then just when I thought she was going to fall into my lap you offer her a
carte blanche

Gideon felt his temper rising. There was a world of difference between competing for the favours of a lightskirt and trapping him into marriage!

‘And because I bested you on that occasion you concocted this elaborate charade?’

‘Why, yes, and I thought it rather neat, actually,’ returned Max, sipping his brandy. ‘I hired Agnes Bennet to play my cousin and you fell for her—quite besotted, in fact. All I had to do then was persuade you to propose. Of course, it helped that you were still smarting from the roasting your father gave you at Christmas and ripe for any mischief that would pay him back.’

Gideon could not deny it. He recalled that last, fraught meeting with his father. They had rowed royally. If he was honest, Gideon had already been a little tired of Max and his constant tricks and stratagems, but he did not like his father criticising his friends. He had lost his temper, declaring that he would do what he wanted with his life. He remembered storming out of the house, declaring, ‘I will make friends with whom I like, do what I like, marry whom I like!’

How unwise he had been to relay the whole incident to Martlesham.

The earl continued, ‘You knew that marrying any cousin of mine would anger your father. It helped, of course, that she was such a little beauty. A typical English rose.’

‘Couldn’t wait to get her into bed, eh?’ cried one of Max’s cronies, a buck-toothed fop called Williams.

Dear heaven, Gideon wondered why he had never noticed before just what a hideous smirk the fellow had! Max filled a second glass with brandy and handed it to him.

‘Then, of course, you said you could never marry a Frenchie.’

‘Well, what of that?’ said Gideon, stiffening.

Max’s smile grew.

‘It so happens that my dear cousin here is most definitely French. Ain’t that so, m’dear?’

The girl made no answer, save for a slight nod of the head. Gideon’s eyes narrowed.

‘Reynolds is an English name. And you told me Dominique was an old family tradition...’

‘Now there I admit I misled you, my boy. The name
a family tradition, but it belongs to her French ancestors, not mine.’ Max’s hateful smile widened. ‘My dear Gideon, you should have looked more closely at the register before you signed it. You would have seen then that her father’s name was
, not Reynolds. Jerome Rainault, a wine merchant from Montpellier. A full-blooded Frenchman, Albury, and a paid-up Girondin to boot.’


Gideon was surprised out of the dispassionate hauteur he had assumed. Max’s pale blue eyes gleamed with malicious triumph.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said softly. ‘You swore that the French were all your enemies, did you not? It seemed poetic justice to marry you off to a Frenchwoman.’

More of Gideon’s last, heated exchange with his father flashed into his head.

‘Martlesham is a bad lot,’ the viscount had said. ‘You should choose your friends more carefully.’

He had been angered by his father’s words, but now the truth of them stung him even more.

Williams guffawed loudly. ‘What a good joke. You have been well and truly duped, Albury! You fell head over heels for Max’s actress, didn’t you? He made the switch this morning. He even had shoes made with a heel so that you didn’t see that your new bride was shorter than the lovely Agnes.’

Williams pushed his silver-topped cane under the bridal skirts, but the girl whipped herself away from him, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment. The others sniggered and Gideon cursed silently. How had he ever found their childish humour amusing?

He said furiously, ‘This goes beyond a joke, Martlesham. This time you are meddling with peoples’ lives.’

Max shrugged.

‘We all found it devilishly amusin’, old fellow.’ He held out the glass. ‘Here. Admit we caught you fair and square. Then let us enjoy the wedding
and afterwards I’ll summon the vicar and my lawyer from the village and we can arrange to have the marriage annulled. After all, there’s witnesses enough to the fact that you have been tricked.’

Gideon took the brandy and sipped it. Everyone around him was grinning, save the bride. The heat had left her cheeks and she now stood beside him, pale and silent. This slight, dark figure could not be less like the bride he had been expecting. The enormity of his folly hit him. He had not consulted his father about the marriage—a petty revenge against his parent for daring to ring such a peal over him at that last meeting. He had not even notified his lawyer, knowing that Rogers would demand settlements should be drawn up. In his eagerness to secure his bride he had accepted Max’s assurances that they could deal with all the usual formalities later. Now he knew why and a cold fury seized him.

He said slowly, ‘Admit I was tricked and become a laughing stock? No, I don’t think so.’

It gave him some satisfaction to see the smiles falter. Max frowned. His bride turned to stare at him. Gideon forced a smile to his lips.

‘No,’ he drawled. ‘I have to marry sometime. Your cousin will do as well as anyone, Martlesham. The marriage stands.’

* * *


Dominique gasped out the word. This was not the way it was meant to be. She looked imploringly to her cousin, but the earl’s face was a mask.

‘Come.’ Gideon was holding his hand out to her. ‘Let us sit down and enjoy our first meal as man and wife.’

His tone brooked no argument. Reluctantly she accompanied the stranger who was now her husband to the table. Only he was not a stranger to her. For the past two months she had watched him from the shadows as he laughed and danced and flirted with the woman chosen to impersonate her. How Dominique wished that she was more like the beautiful Agnes, with her deep, throaty laugh and bewitching smile. She had watched Gideon fall in love with the actress and realised that she would willingly exchange her dusky locks and green eyes for blonde curls and cornflower-blue eyes if Gideon would give her just one admiring glance. Max had not objected when he discovered Dominique had dressed herself as a servant so that she could watch the courtship. Indeed, he had enjoyed the added piquancy her masquerade gave to the proceedings and gradually she had found herself being drawn ever closer to Gideon Albury. He was different from the others, more thoughtful, and lacking the cruel humour that characterised so many of Max’s friends. She had thought at first that his lean face was a little austere, but she had seen the way his smile warmed his eyes and she had learned to listen out for his voice, deep and rich as chocolate.

And she had fallen in love.

* * *

If someone had told her she would lose her heart to a man who didn’t even know she existed she would have said it was impossible, but somehow, over the weeks of watching and listening she had come to believe there was more to this handsome young buck than his devil-may-care attitude. She had seen the brooding look that would steal into his countenance when he thought no one was attending and had caught the fleeting sadness that occasionally clouded his eyes. In her disguise it had been difficult to avoid the leering glances and wandering hands of Max’s other guests, but Gideon had not ogled her, and if he noticed her at all it was with a careless kindness, a word of thanks when she presented him with his drink or a quiet rebuke when one of his friends tried to importune her.

He was a true gentleman, even if today there was only anger in his tone and a touch of steel in his hazel eyes when they rested on her. He despised her and, knowing the part she had played in this charade, she could not blame him. She knew how she would feel if someone played such a trick upon her, so why should she be disappointed that the bridegroom should now look at her with such contempt? She felt sick at heart, but it would do no good to repine. She had made a bargain with Max, and if he kept it then all this charade would have been worth it.

* * *

Dominique partook very little of the food served at her wedding breakfast and even less of the wine. On the surface Gideon appeared to be at his ease, smiling and joking with his companions, the perfect bridegroom. But when he called for a toast and turned to salute her his eyes were cold and hard, and a little frisson of fear shivered down her spine.

At last the meal was over, but not her torment. People were getting up, congregating in little groups. Gideon tapped his glass and brought a hush to the assembly.

‘Carstairs, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for putting Elmwood Lodge at our disposal.’ He rose and put his hands on the back of Dominique’s chair. ‘Now,
, it is time you changed into your travelling dress and we will be away.’

She cast another startled glance at Max, who merely shrugged. Silently she rose, but as she passed her cousin she hesitated. Surely he would intervene now. She said quietly, ‘The joke is played, my lord. I have done my part, pray you, call an end to it.’

15.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Other books

Fall (Roam Series, Book Two) by Stedronsky, Kimberly
His Most Wanted by Sandra Jones
Cruel Summer by James Dawson
True Divide by Liora Blake
Racing the Devil by Jaden Terrell
Scorch by Kaitlyn Davis
Rose Leopard by Richard Yaxley
Teach Me Love by S. Moose