‘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.’
‘The Globe!’ Williams dropped his quizzing glass. ‘But