an impecunious young man from an obscure but perfectly respectable French family who had fled the Terror and was now living in bachelor lodgings in Cleveland Row. The worst that was known of the young man was that he frequented a gambling hell in King Street that Ribblestone himself favoured. However, Gideon knew that if his wife continued to meet with Lamotte it would only be a matter of time before the gossipmongers heard of it and began to speculate upon the nature of their acquaintance. Their liaison might be quite innocent, but it would not do and Gideon had known he would have to speak to Nicky about the matter.
However, he had been reluctant to do so—until he had seen Lamotte dancing with his wife. Then Gideon had been aware of a sharp stab of disapproval. He had watched Nicky dance with dozens of fellows since they had come to town and thought nothing of it—after all, he was a reasonable man—but Raymond Lamotte was a Frenchman and to see the handsome young dog paying such attentions to his wife had roused Gideon’s temper. In fact, in any other circumstances he would have thought the emotion he felt when he saw them together was jealousy, but how could one feel that for a wife one did not love?
No, he did not love his wife, he thought as the carriage pulled up in Brook Street and he escorted her into the house. How could he? She was a constant reminder of the loss his family had suffered. He felt a tiny kick of guilt. Perhaps his disapproval this evening of her friendship with Lamotte had been a little severe. In an effort to make amends he invited her to join him in the drawing room. She gave a little start.
‘Oh—no! That is, how kind of you, Gideon, but I—I am very tired. I think I will retire....’
He covered his disappointment with a smile.
‘Of course, my dear, if that is what you wish.’
He raised her hand to his lips and her fingers trembled in his grasp. As he looked up he was surprised to find something in her green eyes that made his brows snap together. A wistfulness, a longing that touched a chord inside him and roused the desire for her that was never very far away. How long had it been since he had been in her bed?
‘Perhaps you would like me to come up with you?’
Her recoil told him immediately how wrong he had been.
‘Oh, I— If only... Not tonight, if you please, Gideon. I am nigh on dropping with fatigue.’
With a shy, apologetic smile she wished him goodnight and hurried away.
* * *
Gideon waited until she was out of sight before walking into the drawing room. It was perfectly reasonable for her to be tired. After all, she was increasing, although no one watching her lithe figure skipping around the dance floor this evening would have guessed it. She had looked quite animated, too, never more so than when she had been dancing with Lamotte. Quickly Gideon dismissed the thought. He glanced around him. It was the custom to keep this room in readiness every evening with a good fire and candles burning in their wall-brackets, but despite the room’s cheerful aspect Gideon found that he had no desire to drink alone, so he went up to bed. When he reached Nicky’s room he stopped. A strip of light shone beneath the door, showing that she was still awake, but there was no sound from the room, and after a few seconds he went on to his own bedchamber, disturbed by a vague, niggling dissatisfaction.
* * *
At breakfast the next morning Nicky greeted him with her usual good humour and Gideon’s day brightened immediately.
‘You are not fatigued by last night’s exertions?’ he asked her as she poured coffee for him.
She gave him a sunny smile.
‘Not in the least. You know Dr Harris said I could carry on very much as before.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she thought that included her wifely duties in the bedchamber, but he was afraid to bring that haunted, frightened look back into her face, so instead he asked casually what she planned to do today.
‘I have some letters to write, and after that I am taking Kitty to Grosvenor Square with me. Gwen’s dresser is an excellent coiffeuse—’
‘You are not going to cut it short?’ He frowned, recalling the way her dusky curls cascaded over her shoulders, a perfect foil for the creamy whiteness of her skin.
He remembered her standing naked before him while he pulled the pins from her hair so that it fell in a dark curtain to the small of her back, almost resting on her gently rounded buttocks. He remembered pulling her towards him and tangling his hands in the thick skeins of silky hair, holding her fast while his tongue plundered her mouth.
His body responded immediately to the memory and he struggled to give his attention to her reply.
‘Heavens, no. Kitty is merely going to learn a new way to put up my hair.’
‘Ah, I see. And what do you do after that? I am busy this morning, but perhaps later you would like to drive out with me.’ He grinned at her. ‘We might go to the Park at the fashionable hour and show off your new hairstyle.’
A shadow crossed her face.
‘Oh, I would enjoy that, only I... um... We are going to visit a new tea garden in Hampstead and I shall not be back until dinnertime.’
‘Of course. Then we shall meet again at dinner.’
Gideon pushed his plate away and rose from the table. Why he should feel disappointed he did not know. The notion of driving out with his wife had only just occurred to him and was easily dismissed. However, after spending the morning poring over his accounts, he found the sun shining in through the study window was too tempting to ignore. It was not yet the fashionable hour for the promenade and Gideon decided he would exercise his greys in the Park before it became too crowded. He sent a message to the stable and ran upstairs to change into his riding coat and buckskins and to thrust his feet into his glossy top-boots.
By the time he came down again Sam was waiting at the door with the curricle. The greys were fresh and leaped into their collars as they set off, but as they swept through Grosvenor Square Gideon spotted his sister approaching in her open carriage. He waved to her coachman to stop, bringing his own team to a plunging halt when the carriages were alongside each other.
‘Really, Gideon, we cannot hold up the traffic in this way, I shall be hounded out of the square!’
‘I thought Nicky was with you,’ he said, ignoring her laughing protest.
‘She was, until half an hour ago.’
‘Oh. Are you not going to Hampstead with her?’
Gwen’s brows rose.
‘Hampstead? No, indeed. Why should she go to Hampstead?’
‘There is a new tea garden, I believe.’ Gwen’s blank look made him frown and the horses jibbed as his hands tightened involuntarily on the reins. He said, ‘She has her maid with her, I take it?’
‘No, we sent Kitty home as soon as Dominique’s hair was finished. Gideon, what—?’
He cut her short, not wishing to explain anything. With a hasty farewell he drove on. Plans for Hyde Park were abandoned. He considered driving to Hampstead, but something told him he would not find Nicky there. Instead he drove back to Brook Street, and with a curt order to Sam to walk the horses he went indoors to look for the maid.
He found her in Nicky’s bedroom, mending a flounce, and asked her without preamble if she knew where her mistress would be.
Kitty jumped to her feet.
‘I—I don’t know, sir,’ she stammered, dropping a wobbly curtsy. ‘She sent me off from Lady Ribblestone’s and said she’d be making her own way home later.’
‘And she didn’t say where she was going?’
‘N-no, sir.’
‘Are you sure?’ Gideon bent his frowning gaze upon her. ‘Think, girl!’
Kitty stared