friendly he might seem, Gideon could not forgive her for her duplicitous actions. It had been a cruel trick and she should never have taken part, but when she had agreed to it she had been in turmoil. Blackmailed by her cousin and half in love with the man behind whose eyes she glimpsed a sadness that set him apart from the others, while at the same time detesting the man who would run with Max and his self-seeking, hedonistic crowd. However, standing beside him while Max gloatingly explained the deceit, the hurt and humiliation Gideon had suffered was quite clear to her, if to no one else.
Sitting alone now in the drawing room, she felt thoroughly ashamed and knew she should be grateful that he treated her with any kindness at all. Thoughts of their wedding night returned and she wrapped her arms about her, as if to hold the memory close. Desire had made her reckless and she had given in quite freely to the passion that had swept them up, but she knew—from what she had overheard from the gossiping servants and her own observations at Martlesham Abbey—that it was different for a man. Gideon’s taking her that night had been no act of love, it had been simply lust, easily roused and as easily forgotten. She was not the woman he loved, merely a substitute.
Dominique wondered if she dared go to bed, but decided the proprieties must be observed and asked Mrs Wilkins to bring in the tea tray when the master joined her in the drawing room.
* * *
When Gideon came in she was relieved to see that the shuttered look was gone and he addressed her in a cheerful, friendly tone.
‘I have been thinking, Nicky, I have not yet given you a wedding present. I shall take you to Rundell’s and you shall choose something for yourself, but in the meantime I found this—my godmother’s jewel case.’ He held out a small leather box. ‘Most of Godmama’s jewellery is at the bank, but you might like these trinkets to be going on with.’
Dominique set the case on her lap and pushed up the clasp, her eyes widening as she opened the lid. The contents glittered in the candlelight. A profusion of gold and silver and coloured stones winked up at her.
‘Th-thank you,’ she murmured, bemused. She pushed her fingers gently into the tangle and lifted out a handful of the jewels, letting them fall back into the box in a sparkling cascade. ‘They are beautiful, Gideon, thank you.’
‘Some of the stones—perhaps all—will be paste,’ Gideon explained, watching her. ‘I noticed that you wear no jewellery, but I thought these trinkets might amuse you.’
‘Amuse!’ She gave a little laugh. ‘They are much more than amusing. We brought very little to England, Papa disposed of everything to pay for the journey, including most of Mama’s jewels.’
‘No doubt she kept her most precious pieces to pass on to you?’
‘They have all been sold now. The attempts to find information about Papa have cost her a great deal.’
‘But surely Martlesham...?’
Dominique shook her head.
‘While my uncle lived we were very comfortable, but once Max became earl he said he could no longer afford to fund Mama’s search for my father. She sold her jewels, gave him everything she had to pay the bribes the French officials demanded for information, but it all came to nought. Max thinks Papa is dead and would do nothing more than frank Mama’s letters.’ She bit her lip. ‘You have a penniless bride, Gideon.’
‘Martlesham told me as much before the banns were called.’
Colour stained her cheeks, but she refused to look at him.
‘But then you thought you were marrying someone else...’
An uncomfortable silence fell. Gideon felt a tug of sympathy and a keen desire to distract her from her unhappy thoughts.
‘May I?’ He reached down and pulled out a necklace gleaming with green fire. ‘This would suit you, the stones are the colour of your eyes. I remember Godmama wearing it and there should be some ear-drops in there, too...’
‘Yes, here they are.’ She looked up. ‘May I put them on now?’
‘Of course.’ He watched her, smiling at her enthusiasm as she carefully put the box down and went over to the mirror to fix the ear-drops in place. He followed her across the room. ‘I was right, the colour does suit you. Let us add the necklace.’
She laughed. ‘First I must remove the kerchief.’ She reached around and began to fumble with the knot at the back.
‘Here, let me.’ Gideon untied the lacy ends and pulled it carefully away from her shoulders.
Without the concealing fichu it was apparent just how badly the dress fitted. Its original owner had obviously been of much more generous proportions than the waiflike creature who stood before him. Even with the drawstrings pulled tight the décolletage was extremely low, exposing the gentle swell of her bosom and more flesh than was becoming. Even as the thought entered his head he knew he was being unfair. Many ladies wore dresses as revealing as this, possibly even more so.
A glance in the mirror showed him that his wife was uncomfortable. One hand had come up to her breast, as if to protect herself from prying eyes and a faint blush mantled her cheeks. He smiled, wanting to reassure her as he carefully put the necklace around her throat. She tilted her head, lengthening the back of her neck, and as he brushed aside the dark curls his fingers grazed the delicate ridge of her spine. He wanted to place his lips there, then to trail a line of kisses across the soft whiteness of her shoulder, where the candlelight played upon the exposed skin. But she had trembled as he struggled with the catch. She was clearly frightened of him—why should she not be, since he had taken advantage of her innocence in such a way? Besides, to kiss her now would be the action of a lover and he could never be that.
He removed his hands and stepped back.
‘There. You have a beautiful neck and the emeralds enhance it.’
She seemed to stand taller at his compliment and his breath caught in his throat when he met her eyes in the mirror. They twinkled with a shy smile that far surpassed the gleaming emeralds.
How long they would have remained there he did not know, for at that moment the housekeeper bustled in with the tea tray and the mood was broken. Nicky reached for her kerchief, but he held it away.
‘No, you look very well like that, so there is no need to cover up again. Unless you are cold?’
‘Not in the least, sir. There is a good fire in here, you see.’
‘Indeed there is,’ agreed Mrs Wilkins, setting the tray down on a small table. ‘The mistress used to say this was the cosiest room in the house when the fire was burning.’ She glanced back at the nervous housemaid following her into the room.’ That’s right, Jane, put that down here—it’s the spirit kettle,’ she explained as the maid set down the shining silver pot and its burner on a small square wooden stand beside the tea table. ‘It hasn’t been used since the mistress died, but I thought it should come out again, now we have a new mistress in the house.’
‘How thoughtful of you, Mrs Wilkins.’ As the servants bustled away Dominique returned to the table, throwing Gideon a look that was brim-full with mischief. ‘Since Mrs Wilkins has gone to so much trouble you will have to take tea with me this evening, sir, even if you do consider it to be maudling your insides.’
He grinned, pleased to have their previous easy companionship restored. He took a seat on the opposite side of the hearth, where he could watch her. It was very restful, he thought, to be sitting at one’s own fireplace with no need to go out for company or entertainment.
* * *
Dominique took great trouble brewing the tea. Gideon must have seen his mother do this a hundred times and she did not want to fall short of his expectations. And when she at last held out a cup to him, she had to try hard not to feel self-conscious in her low-cut gown. The emeralds, be they paste or real, rested heavily upon her neck and gave her a certain amount of reassurance. Gideon had given them to her and he was smiling now, so she was confident