my thoughts were otherwhere.’
‘And have been so ever since Gwen mentioned that comic opera.’ He laughed and put his hand under her arm. ‘Well, perhaps it is a little late. Let me escort you to your room, my dear.’
‘I have never been to the theatre, you see,’ she confided. ‘We did have travelling players that called at Martlesham when my uncle was alive. I thought their performances quite magical, but I was only a child then, of course. In recent years the only theatricals have taken place during private house parties and Mama deemed them unsuitable for me to attend.’
‘Yes, I can believe it.’
His dry comment reminded her that he had probably been part of those same house parties and she said no more, anxious not to awaken unwelcome memories.
* * *
Gideon glanced down at the silent figure beside him as they made the short journey along the passage to her bedchamber. She had discarded her cloak and the ruby satin was almost black in the dim light of the wall candles, throwing into relief the white trimming of the décolletage and the creamy skin rising from it. She had filled out a little since having the baby and this gown showed her curvaceous figure to advantage.
When they stopped at her door he paused. He wanted to drop his head and kiss her neck, run his mouth along the fragile line of her collarbone until he reached that fascinating indentation at the base of her throat, to touch his lips to the little pulse that beat just beneath her ear. Desire burned within him—it was so long since he had lain with her, tasted the sweet fragrance of her skin, buried his face in her hair.
She was looking up at him now, her eyes inviting, trusting him. Mentally he drew back. She was too precious. He would not risk weakening her with another baby so soon.
It does not need to result in a child.
The thought flashed through his brain, but it was closely followed by his father’s warning. A wife was a delicate creature, to be nurtured, protected. Not for them the carnal lusts of the body.
‘Gideon?’ She spoke softly, putting her hand up to his cheek. ‘Gideon, will you not come in...?’
He reached up and caught her hand, planting a kiss in the palm.
‘Not tonight, my dear.’
* * *
Dominique watched him stride away into the darkness. She was sure she had seen desire in his eyes, certain he had been moments away from sweeping her into his arms. She clasped her hands together. Oh, how she wanted him to carry her to the bed and cover her body with kisses! She went into her bedroom and looked at herself in the mirror. What had Gwen called her? Voluptuous. Yes, it was true and Gideon had been tempted, but not enough. Not enough.
* * *
In Drury Lane the crowds jostled outside the theatre and inside everything was colourful and noisy and chaotic. Dominique clung to Gideon’s arm as they made their way through the press of bodies.
‘Wasn’t Cecil clever, to get us such an advantageous box?’ declared Gwen, when they took their seats. ‘No, truly,’ she continued, when Mr Hatfield modestly demurred. ‘I had thought there was no possibility of finding a ticket for this performance. I am sure we are all very grateful.’
Dominique agreed. They had dined at Grosvenor Square with Gwen and Lord and Lady Grayson and she had been a little apprehensive when Cecil Hatfield arrived, but since Gideon was perfectly polite to him she had soon relaxed. Their box commanded a good view of the stage and while they waited for the performance to begin she gazed around the auditorium, watching with interest as the audience poured in. Fashionable gentlemen and painted ladies jostled with apprentices in the pit, shadowy figures moved around in the upper gallery and the boxes were filling up, the lamplight sparkling and flashing off the jewels displayed by the ladies who were taking their seats. Max was standing at the front of a box opposite, but she ignored his exaggerated bow and took care not to look his way again, determined not to allow him to spoil her enjoyment of the evening.
The lights dimmed ready for the short farce that preceded the main event and Dominique gave herself up to the performance, applauding with enthusiasm when it ended. Lord Grayson took his wife off to spend the interval strolling in the foyer and Gideon slipped into the empty seat beside Dominique.
‘Well, what do you think?’
‘Oh, Gideon I am enjoying myself immensely,’ she told him, reaching impulsively for his hand.
Gwendoline laughed. ‘Then you have obviously been starved of entertainment, my dear! That was quite the poorest play I have seen in seasons. I am sure I have heard most of it a hundred times before.’ She put her hand on Mr Hatfield’s sleeve. ‘What thought you, Cecil?’
‘I, madam? Why, I saw very little of the farce, my attention was upon something quite different.’
He leaned closer to Gwen, laughing down at her in an intimate fashion that made Dominique uncomfortable. Her eyes quickly went to Gideon and she saw him frown.
He rose from his seat, saying curtly, ‘Hatfield, perhaps you and I should—’
Whatever Gideon was going to suggest she would never know, for at that moment the door of the box opened and the tall, lean figure of Lord Ribblestone appeared.
‘Good evening. I hope I am not de trop?’
* * *
The way Gwen and Mr Hatfield jumped apart reminded Dominique forcibly of the farce she had just seen, but she did not find it in the least amusing.
‘Anthony!’ Gwen began to fan herself nervously. ‘I—I did not expect—that is...’
‘I left a message that I should conclude my business in time to escort you here, did I not, my love? I would you had waited for me.’
As Lord Ribblestone came further into the box, Mr Hatfield edged himself to the door and, muttering something about seeing an acquaintance in the pit, he disappeared. Recovering her composure, Gwen tossed her head.
‘You are so notoriously unreliable, Anthony, I did not want to risk our being late and missing the farce. It is Dominique’s first visit to the theatre, you see.’
‘Ah, of course. Now I understand.’ Lord Ribblestone smiled at Dominique, who fidgeted uncomfortably.
She was aware of the tension between Anthony and his wife and was relieved to feel Gideon’s hand on her shoulder.
‘My love, no visit to the theatre is complete without promenading through the foyer. It will be a crush, but it is something you should do, at least once.’
Gratefully she accompanied Gideon from the box.
‘We are best out of the way,’ he told her as he shut the door behind them. ‘They can talk more freely if they are alone.’
‘I do hope they will not fight.’
‘I wish they would,’ muttered Gideon as he led her away. ‘Tony is far too complacent for my liking. He could put an end to Gwen’s little flirtations, if he would.’
Dominique frowned.
‘Perhaps he does not care for her.’
‘Of course he does,’ replied Gideon. ‘He is as mad as fire, did you not see it?’
‘I felt it,’ she affirmed. ‘But I thought I might be mistaken. And—and does Gwen care for him?’
‘Aye. Why else would she set up all these flirts?’
‘Perhaps she is lonely. After all, Lord Ribblestone is always busy with his politics.’
‘Well, she needs to tell him. A little plain speaking would sort the matter out.’
Dominique was silent. She knew only too well how difficult it was to speak plainly about intimate matters with a man who hid himself behind a wall of politeness.
*