Lady Beneath the Veil (4 page)

‘Step aside,’ she ordered him. ‘Let me return to the parlour.’

‘The devil I will.’

‘I—I will stab you if you get in my way.’

He threw his arms wide.

‘Stab away.’

His taunt brought a blaze of anger to her eyes again and with a shriek she launched herself at him. He grabbed her wrist. The letter opener was not that sharp and he doubted it would do much damage, but she seemed intent upon attacking him and he was damned if he was going to allow that. She was surprisingly strong. He twisted her wrist and she dropped the weapon, but immediately she sank her teeth into his hand.

‘Ouch! You little termagant!’ He wrestled her backwards on to the bed, pinning her wrists above her head. ‘
Will
you stop fighting like a wildcat?’

She continued to struggle and he was obliged to use the weight of his body to hold her down and prevent her flailing legs from kicking him.

‘Let me go!’

‘Not if you are going to scratch my eyes out.
Stop it!
’ She ceased struggling and glared up at him, the gold braid on her bodice glinting with the rise and fall of her breast. ‘That’s better.’

He, too, was breathing heavily, but he recognised it was not just exertion. The feel of her body beneath him was exciting him almost beyond reason. He smiled and earned for his troubles a smouldering look that sent the blood pounding faster through his body. He was lying between her legs, crushing her skirts against the bed, and for one searing moment he imagined what it would be like if her thighs were pressed against his, skin on skin rather than separated by numerous layers of cloth.

‘That reminds me.’ His voice seemed very distant and slightly unsteady. ‘I have not yet kissed the bride.’

He told himself he was teasing her, punishing her just a little more. She watched him from those huge eyes. Large and dark, unfathomable pools, dragging him down. His gaze moved to her mouth.

Better stop this now,
before it gets out of hand.

Too late. The pink tip of her tongue flickered nervously across her lips and he could not resist lowering his head to capture her mouth. It was a swift, hard kiss and she trembled beneath him. Immediately he drew back.

* * *

Dominique took a quick, shuddering breath. That was the last straw. Her blood was up, she had been aware of a sharp exultation when she had flown at him with the paperknife in her hand and her heart was still pounding from the ensuing tussle. He had overpowered her, of course, but she was not beaten. She told herself she would never give in, even with his body pressing down upon hers she felt herself stronger, not weaker, as sensations she could not explain took control of her body. She felt alive, buzzing with energy, ready to fight him again. Then he had closed the distance between them, his mouth finding her parted lips and taking possession. Her body responded with a shudder of desire that shocked and startled her. A longing, a need she could not control was unleashed—she wanted him as she had never wanted anyone, or anything, before.

It was a shock to realise she would sell her soul to the devil for one night with Gideon Albury, and what did it matter? Her reputation was ruined, whatever happened, so why should she not have one glorious night to remember? He was easing himself away. In another moment he would be lost to her forever.

* * *

‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered, releasing her hands. ‘I should not—’

Gideon broke off in surprise as she reached up and clutched at his neckcloth. She pulled him close and began to kiss him, a little inexpertly, but with such eagerness that desire lanced through him. He was lost. It was as if someone had opened the floodgates and a torrent of passion poured forth, carrying all before it.

Clothes were hurriedly discarded, buttons torn off in their haste to disrobe and all the while they strove to continue those heady, desperate kisses that kept all coherent thought at bay. Gideon lifted her easily on to the cool silk covers of the bed and measured his naked length against her. She clung to him, eager for his touch, returning his embraces with a fervour that more than matched his own. She cried out as he entered her, but when he hesitated she pulled him to her, claiming his mouth, tangling her tongue with his and leaving him in no doubt that she wanted to continue the hot, passionate coupling that carried them on to a heady, exhilarating climax and left them both panting and exhausted.

* * *

Dominique woke up when the fire was dying down and the night air cooling her skin. She lifted one hand to her head, trying to make sense of where she was and what had happened. She remembered dining with Gideon, then arguing with him and finally, when he had laid hands on her—understandably, since she was trying to stab him—she had wanted nothing more than to cling on to him forever. It was as if she had been possessed, filled with desire that must be satisfied. She ran a hand over her body. It felt no different, yet everything had changed. She was no longer a virgin.

She tried to examine her feelings about that and about the naked man sleeping beside her. She felt numb. It was as if there was some great unhappy void ahead of her that she dare not face just yet. Perhaps in the morning she would be able to make sense of it all. For now her main concern was to get warm. She slid between the covers. The hot bricks so thoughtfully supplied were gone. They had fallen out on to the floor at some point, unnoticed, and the sheets were cold.

Her movements disturbed Gideon and he followed her under the covers, silently pulling her close. She could not deny the comfort of his warm limbs wrapped around her. Nothing mattered when she was in his arms. Tomorrow. She would think about it all tomorrow. She closed her eyes and, as she was drifting away into sleep, she felt his breath against her cheek, heard him whisper one word.

‘Dominique.’

Chapter Four

T
he early morning sunshine was just peeping into the bedchamber when Dominique opened her eyes again. She was alone in the canopied bed. Soon she would have to get up and face the day—and Gideon—but for now she lay very still and allowed the memories to flood back. Perhaps she had been wrong to agree to her cousin’s plan, but if it had secured her mother’s independence then she could not regret it.

And her night of passion with Gideon? She would regret that, she was sure, but it had been inevitable. From the first moment she had peered through the thick wedding veil and seen him standing at the altar, tall and athletic, with the bars of sunlight from the windows striking red-gold sparks from his auburn hair, she was lost. Her heart had turned over and, oh, how she had wished that his smiles had really been for her and not for the person he thought her to be.

His anger, when he discovered the deception, had been monumental, but she could forgive that—as she would have forgiven him if he had taken her in anger, forced himself upon her. After all, what rights did she have now, as his wife? But she truly believed he had planned to protect her. If she had not been so obstinate, they might well have spent their wedding night in separate rooms, emerging chaste and unsullied this morning. But his autocratic behaviour had angered her and she had a temper equal to his own. Over the years she had learned to keep it in check, except in the most trying circumstances, and there could be no denying that yesterday had been extremely trying.

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.

‘Maman?’

Madame Rainault looked up. Gideon detected some likeness to his wife, but the lady’s fair complexion and light eyes reminded him more of Martlesham, save that she had none of the earl’s blustering arrogance. She wore a muslin cap over curls which were sprinkled with grey, and her eyes held a distracted look, as if her thoughts were elsewhere. She seemed to struggle to focus as she put down her pen and smiled.

‘Dominique, my child. Are you back from the Abbey so soon? I had thought to have all these letters done before you returned.’

‘
Maman
, I have something to tell you.’ Gideon found himself pulled forwards by a small but insistent hand. ‘This is Mr Albury,
Maman
. He—we...’

As the words tailed away he stepped forwards and picked up Madame Rainault’s hand.

‘Enchanté, madame.’
As he bowed over the thin fingers he realised how long it was since he had spoken in French and he had to fight down the painful associations before he could summon up a smile. ‘What your daughter is trying to say is that she has done me the honour of becoming my wife.’

Madame Rainault withdrew her hand and regarded him, bewildered.

‘Your wife? But when, how?’

He felt a touch on his sleeve.

‘Perhaps, sir, I should talk to my mother alone.’

‘Yes, of course. I will go on to the Abbey. I need to arrange to have the rest of my luggage packed up and sent on to me.’ He hesitated. ‘Unless you wish to see your cousin?’ He received a darkling look in answer and gave a wry smile. ‘I thought not. I will be back as soon as I can.’

* * *

His arrival at Martlesham caused no little consternation. It was the dinner hour and Gideon told the butler not to disturb his master, but to send Runcorn up to his room immediately. It took very little time to explain the situation to his valet and give him his instructions.

* * *

Half an hour later he was ready to leave. He found Max waiting for him in the hall.

‘Albury. Back from your honeymoon already? Is my cousin not with you?’

‘I left her with her mother,’ said Gideon, pulling on his gloves.

The doors to the dining room were open and the guests were beginning to wander out.

‘Ah, tired of her already?’ The earl grimaced. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised, she’s too tight-laced and proper to please a man.’

Gideon was already furious with Max for the way he had cheated him. Now, when he heard the earl’s insulting description of his young relative, Gideon was aware of a burning desire to knock the fellow’s teeth out. But he had decided he would beat Max at his own game, so he concealed all signs of anger and merely raised his brows a fraction.

‘Really? Are we talking about the same woman, Martlesham?’ He noted the look of uncertainty in Max’s face and smiled. ‘We are going to London. I need to buy my wife a new wardrobe before I take her into Buckinghamshire.’

The uncertainty was replaced by amazement.

‘You are taking her to Rotham?’

‘Of course, that is her due.’

‘B-but the viscount hates the French. He will refuse to acknowledge her.’

The thought had occurred to Gideon, but Max’s shocked tones angered him and he responded with more than a touch of hauteur.

‘He will be obliged to do so, since she is the wife of his heir.’

Williams came mincing forwards, quizzing glass raised.

‘Now look here, Albury, we all know the marriage is a farce, it was never intended to go this far. Bring the gel back here and let Martlesham sort it all out—’

‘But there is nothing to sort out,’ replied Gideon, smiling again. ‘I am exceedingly happy and I have you to thank for it, Max.’ He patted the earl on the shoulder as he passed him. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have to collect my wife. I have booked rooms at the Globe and we have an early start for town in the morning.’