clung on to that small ray of hope as she prepared to leave London. It was not to be expected that her interesting condition would remain a secret, although Gwen had assured her sister-in-law that she had told only her closest friends. By July it was all over town and Dominique had to accustom herself to beaming smiles and knowing looks. She saw Raymond Lamotte occasionally, but afforded him no more than a distant bow. She was still very angry with Max, but thankfully the one time they met she had Gideon by her side.
They were attending a musical recital and she was coming out of the supper room on Gideon’s arm when the earl appeared before them.
‘Martlesham.’
As Gideon bowed she made her curtsy to the earl.
‘Good evening, Albury. Cousin.’ He held on to her fingers after kissing them. ‘I understand I am to congratulate you.’
‘Thank you, Max.’ She withdrew her hand as she gave him a glittering smile. He responded with one equally false.
‘It explains why you can do no wrong in your husband’s eyes at present.’
Gideon gave a soft laugh.
‘You are thinking of our embrace in St James’s Street.’ He pulled her hand on to his arm again and patted it. ‘An outrageous display of affection in public, of course, but I could not help myself.’
‘Could you not?’ Max’s lip curled. ‘I thought it might be for my benefit.’
‘Good Gad, no,’ exclaimed Gideon, recoiling artistically. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ returned Max, considering. ‘I think it was something Lamotte said to me.’
Dominique froze. A furious retort rose to her lips, but Gideon’s hand was still covering hers and he gave it the slightest squeeze. She remained silent.
‘Ah, yes, Monsieur Lamotte.’ Gideon’s voice was quiet, silky, but no less menacing. ‘Odd that you should deny him one day and the next he is a friend.’
‘I should say he is more of an acquaintance.’
‘A charming young man,’ said Gideon lightly. ‘But French, you know. He is unfamiliar with the way we do things here, especially when it comes to husbands. They can be the most unaccountable creatures, you see.’
‘Can they?’
Max sounded wary and, casting a quick glance at Gideon, Dominique thought that despite his pleasant tone his eyes had never been so menacing.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said softly. ‘I did not realise it until I became one myself, but it seems now that if anyone should try to harm my wife, or even to upset her, then I should be obliged to wreak the most terrible vengeance. I just couldn’t help myself.’
Despite the noise and chatter of the room, a dangerous silence hung around the two men. Dominique could feel the tension and remained still, not daring to do anything that might precipitate violence. At last Max gave her a tight smile.
‘You are to be congratulated, Cousin, you have found yourself an admirable protector. I wish you joy of your bulldog.’
With a curt nod he stalked past them.
‘Do you think he understood you?’ she asked as they continued back to the music room.
‘Oh, yes,’ murmured Gideon. ‘I think he understood me all too well. He will not bother us again.’
Recalling the fury in Max’s eyes, Dominique could not be easy.
‘Gideon—’
‘Hush.’ He held up his hand. ‘We have given your cousin quite enough time this evening. Let us instead listen to the music. This next soprano, I have been told, is quite matchless.’
* * *
Their last weeks in town were very busy. Dominique felt quite low when Gwen departed for Brighton, but she left Dominique a long list of things she considered necessary for a protracted stay in Buckinghamshire.
‘Buy your loose gowns before you go, for there is but one dressmaker in the village, and although you will want to put some work her way you will need more gowns than she can provide. And make sure you buy some warm petticoats. Flannel ones, my love, because the corridors at Rotham can be icy in winter! Then you will need books,’ Gwen continued, counting off the items on her fingers. ‘I left one or two novels at Rotham, but I doubt my father will have anything new, and it is such a fuss to send to London every time one wants a diversion. If you wish to paint, then you should find everything you need in the old nursery.’ She pulled a face. ‘Poor Papa, he insisted we have the very best—tutors, materials, paints, charcoal and sketchpads—but I was a sad disappointment and not at all proficient at drawing or painting. Oh, and buy at least two pairs of stout boots, the lanes become prodigiously muddy...’
She went on for some time and when she had finished Dominique gave an uncertain laugh.
‘You make Rotham sound like something from a Gothic novel, all gloomy shadows and empty, echoing halls.’
‘Well, it is,’ replied Gwen with alarming candour. ‘Since Gideon escaped, Papa has rattled around in that great house all alone, with only an elderly neighbour to visit him.’ Gwen noticed her sister-in-law’s dismay and quickly assured her that Rotham was in no way as bleak as it sounded. ‘The local families will be glad to welcome you, I am sure, and Ribblestone and I will be returning to Fairlawns in December, so we shall only be a few miles away.’
To Dominique, December sounded a very long time ahead, but she put aside her worries and threw herself into preparing to travel to her husband’s family home.
* * *
Travelling in easy stages, they took two full days to reach Rotham. A baggage coach was hired to follow them, the roof piled high with trunks and Dominique’s precious harp packed inside. Dominique rode in the elegant chaise sent up from Rotham for her comfort. Her only disappointment was that Gideon preferred to ride, but since this meant that Kitty could join her in the carriage she was not lonely on the journey, and when they stopped overnight at a prosperous coaching inn there was no lack of conversation with Gideon.
They dined in a private parlour served by the well-trained staff of the inn, who were efficient and unobtrusive. Even so, Dominique kept the conversation to innocuous subjects until at last the covers were removed and they were alone.
‘Tell me about your father,’ she said, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands. Gideon looked nonplussed and she added with a smile, ‘Are you very like him?’
‘In looks, perhaps, but in temperament—my father is very reserved.’
She thought of the long silences she had endured with Gideon, but did not comment upon it and said instead, ‘Is his health poor? Is that why he lives so quietly? Gwen told me,’ she explained, when he raised his brows at her. ‘She warned me that Lord Rotham rarely entertains.’
Gideon gave a crack of laughter.
‘Rarely? He never entertains. However, that must change if you are living there. You must invite whom you please.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘You must not be frightened of my father, Nicky. He might appear cold, but his heart is very generous.’
‘It will need to be,’ she murmured. ‘I bring no dowry.’
‘You must not let that worry you.’
‘But it does, Gideon.’
‘I think Father will be too relieved to know I have settled down to worry about your lack of dowry. You see, he was sorely disappointed when I went off to make my own life in London.’ He was silent while he poured himself another glass of wine. ‘I did not behave well, I admit it. And once in town I fell in with your cousin and his friends. I am not proud of that time.’
After the suffocating discipline of Rotham, Max’s