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The only gown she had with her was the olive-green walking dress she had arrived in. It was not new, but the colour suited her, and with its mannish cut and the gold frogging it looked well enough for an earl’s cousin. The embroidered lace veil would fill in the low neckline and keep the cold March wind at bay. She squared her shoulders. If Gideon Albury wanted to continue with this charade it would have to do.
To her consternation everyone was gathered in the hall, waiting for her. They all seemed determined to pretend that this was any normal going-away ceremony. Max ran up the final few stairs and gave her his arm as though he was about to give her away all over again.
‘I have had the maids fill a trunk for you,’ he murmured. ‘Can’t have you going off without a rag to your back.’
He led her up to Gideon, who stood rigid and implacable. Dominique glanced once at his face—it could have been chiselled from stone, so cold and impassive did he look. Concealing a shudder, she dropped her eyes to his exquisitely embroidered waistcoat. Perhaps he had ordered it especially for the wedding, to impress his bride. She felt even more ashamed of allowing herself to be a part of Max’s cruel scheme.
With much cheering they were escorted to the waiting travelling carriage, where her trunk was being strapped on the roof. She felt a light touch on her shoulder as the carriage pulled away.
‘Well, madam, are you not going to smile for your guests?’
She shrugged off his hand.
‘How far do you intend to carry this joke, sir?’
‘Joke?’ His voice was icy. ‘I do not know what you mean, madam. It was Martlesham who played the joke.’
‘And you have repaid him. He was quite shocked when you said the marriage would stand.’
‘Yes, his reaction was delightfully amusing.’
‘You have had your fun, sir,’ she said coolly. ‘Now I pray you will abandon this charade.’
‘Oh, it is no charade, madam. I am in deadly earnest.’
She stared at him, a cold hand clutching at her heart when she saw his implacable look.
‘But—but you never meant to marry me. You cannot want me for your bride.’
‘Why not? As I told Max, I have to marry sometime, and you are as good as any other wife.’ His eyes swept over her, as if stripping her naked and she felt a hot blush spreading up through her body. She realised for the first time how fully she had put herself in this man’s power. She summoned up every ounce of indignation to respond.
‘That is outrageous!’
‘Outrageous or not, madam, you should have considered every possibility before you gave yourself to this plan. You married me, for better or worse. There is no way back.’
* * *
Unsettled by the look of horror on his companion’s face, Gideon closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He was still furious at being duped into marriage, but he had some sympathy with his bride. Knowing Max, he suspected that pressure had been put on the chit to comply. But she could have declared herself in church, if she had really objected to the whole thing. No, he would punish her just a little more.
He wondered what they would find when they eventually reached Elmwood Lodge. Carstairs had almost choked on his wine when Gideon had reminded him that he had offered it—obviously no one had expected the marriage to go beyond the wedding ceremony, so no arrangements had been made. While everyone had waited for the bride to change her gown a rider had been despatched to Elmwood on a fast horse to notify the servants that a bride and groom were on their way.
How soon after they arrived he would call a halt to this masquerade Gideon had not yet decided.
* * *
When the carriage turned into the gates of Elmwood Lodge sometime later it was immediately apparent that the news of their arrival had been received with enthusiasm. The open gates were decorated with ribbons and as they bowled up to the entrance an elderly couple appeared, the man hurriedly buttoning his livery. Gideon recognised Chiswick, the butler and man of all work, and the woman following him in her snowy apron and cap was his wife and housekeeper of the lodge.
‘Oh, lord,’ Gideon muttered as the door was wrenched open. ‘We are properly for it now.’
‘Welcome, sir, madam! We are delighted you have come to Elmwood Lodge.’ Mrs Chiswick almost hustled her husband out of the way as she greeted them with an effusion of smiles. ‘If you would care to come into the parlour, you will find cakes and wine set out there, and a roaring fire. If we’d had more notice then the rest of the rooms would be ready for you, too, but they may take a while yet, although I have sent for Alice from the village to come and help me.’
Gideon jumped down and turned back to help his bride to alight. She did so silently, looking pale and dazed. He pulled her hand on to his sleeve and followed the still-chattering housekeeper into the house. The large, panelled hall had been hastily decorated with boughs of evergreens and spring flowers. Gideon’s heart sank: the couple were clearly overjoyed to be entertaining a pair of newlyweds. He felt the fingers on his arm tremble and absently put his hand up to give them a reassuring squeeze.
More early spring flowers adorned the wainscotted parlour where a cheerful fire burned in the hearth and refreshments were set out on the table. Gideon waited until his garrulous hostess paused for breath, then said firmly, ‘Thank you, Mrs Chiswick. We will serve ourselves.’
‘Very well, sir. And...’ She turned to look out of the window. ‘Do your servants follow you?’
‘No, we are quite alone.’
‘Ah, of course.’
Her understanding smile brought a flush to Gideon’s cheek and he dared not look at his companion to see the effect upon her, but as soon as they were alone he said, ‘I beg your pardon. When Max told me your servant was remaining at Martlesham to look after your mother I thought it best to leave my man behind, too. Now I see that it has given rise to the very worst sort of speculation.’
‘Very natural speculation, given the circumstances.’
Her calm response relieved his mind of one worry: she was not going to fall into hysterics. Yet he should not have been surprised. She could have no proper feeling to have lent herself to this madness in the first place.
He retorted coldly, ‘These circumstances, as you describe them, are very much your own fault.’
‘I am well aware of that.’
She took off her hat and gloves and untied the strings of her cloak. When he put his hands on her shoulders to take it from her she tensed, but did not shrug him off. He was standing so close behind her that he could smell her perfume, a subtle hint of lily of the valley that made him want to drop his head closer still, perhaps even to bend and place a kiss upon the slender white neck exposed to his view.
Shocked at his reaction, he drew back. This woman was nothing to him—how could he even contemplate making love to her? But the idea lingered and it disturbed him.
Gideon threw her cloak over a chair with his own greatcoat, placing his hat and gloves next to hers on the small side table. His temper was cooling and he was all too aware of their predicament. Perhaps it was not too late to remedy that. He dashed out of the room. He found the butler crossing the hallway and called to him as he ran to the main door.
‘Has the coach gone? Quickly, man!’
‘Y-yes, sir! As soon as you was set down. We took off the baggage and they was away, wanting to get somewhere near home before nightfall, there being no moon tonight.’
Gideon yanked open the door and looked out at the empty drive.
‘But that was only minutes ago. We must fetch it back. There must be a horse in the stables you can send after it.’
Startled, the butler shook his head.
‘I’m afraid not, sir. There’s only Bessie, the cob, but she pulls the carts and has never worn a saddle in her life. I suppose old Adam could harness her up to the gig...’
Staring into the gathering darkness, Gideon realised it would be impossible for them to call back the carriage now.
‘How far is it to the nearest town, or even the nearest inn?’
The butler looked at him with astonishment and Gideon thought grimly how it must look, the bridegroom wanting to run away before his wedding night! However, the truth would be even more unpalatable, so he remained silent while the man pondered his question.
‘There ain’t an inn, sir,’ he said at last. ‘Not one as would suit you, at any rate. And it’s all of seven miles to Swaffham, but you wouldn’t be wanting to set out tonight, not without a moon.’
‘No, of course not.’ With a shake of his head Gideon stepped back from the entrance, leaving Chiswick to close the door while he made his way back to the parlour. He could hardly complain. After all, he himself had hired the post-chaise and his instructions had been quite clear: it would not be required again for two weeks. He had fully intended to enjoy his honeymoon with his bewitching bride. Now he was stranded in the middle of nowhere with a young woman he had never met before today. And a respectable young woman at that, despite her part in this charade. Damn Max and his practical jokes!
Chapter Three
Gideon returned to find the lady in question pacing up and down the parlour. He said as calmly as he could, ‘It seems we are stuck here, at least until the morning.’
‘Was that not your intention?’
Her glance scorched him and he frowned.
‘No, I had not thought it out. I was angry.’
‘And now?’
‘Now I realise that it would have been better if we had remained at the Abbey.’ He paused. ‘We are in the devil of a coil.’
She sighed. ‘I know.’
His eyes fell on the table.
‘Shall we sit down?’ He held a chair for her, thinking that they were like two cats, warily circling each other. When they were both seated he filled two glasses and pushed one towards her. ‘Why did you agree to Max’s outlandish scheme? You do not look like the sort to indulge in practical jokes of your own accord.’
‘No.’ She put a small cake on to her plate and broke it into little pieces.
‘Did he offer you money?’
‘Something of that sort.’
‘But you are his cousin.’
‘An impoverished cousin. My mother brought me to England ten years ago, seeking refuge with her brother, the earl—Max’s father. When Max inherited Martlesham he also inherited us. We have been living off charity ever since. A few months ago Max set us up in a cottage in Martlesham village.’ Her fingers played with the crumbs on her plate. ‘He promised... If I agreed to take part in his scheme, he would sign the property over to my mother and give her a pension for the rest of her life.’
‘And for this you would marry a stranger.’
Her head came up at that. She said angrily, ‘Do you know what it is like to be someone’s pensioner? To know that everything you have, every penny you spend, comes from someone else?’
‘As a matter of fact I do, since I am a younger son. For many years I was dependent upon an allowance from my father.’
Their eyes clashed for a moment, then her glance slid away and she continued quietly, ‘Max promised it would only mean going through the ceremony. He said that once the trick was uncovered the marriage would be annulled.’
‘The devil he did!’ Gideon pushed back his chair and went to the window. The darkness outside showed only his scowling reflection. ‘The servants must have known what was going on—that the woman I thought was Martlesham’s cousin was an impostor.’
‘Yes. Max threatened instant dismissal to anyone who did not go along with his deception.’
He turned back to face her.
‘And your mother? Will Max explain everything to her?’
‘I doubt it.’ She bit her lip. ‘Max tends to think only of those things that affect him.’
‘But won’t she worry about you?’
She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap.
‘I wrote a note for her, telling her that I would be remaining at the Abbey for a few days.’
‘And she will be content with that?’
Her head dipped even lower.
‘Maman has her own concerns and will think nothing amiss.’
Gideon finished his wine and poured himself another glass. Dominique—he almost winced. He must get used to calling her that. The girl had hardly touched her wine and the cake lay crumbled on her plate. A tiny spark of sympathy touched him.
‘Do not despair,’ he told her. ‘In the morning we will return to Martlesham and I will arrange for an annulment.’
‘And until then?’
Her gaze was sceptical.
‘We are not alone here. Mrs Chiswick is a respectable woman and, when we tell her there has been a mistake she will look after you until we can get you back to Martlesham.’ He tried a reassuring smile. ‘I think she can be relied upon to protect your honour.’
Dominique forced herself to meet his eyes, wondering at the change in tone. It was the first time Gideon Albury had done anything other than glower at her. Oh, he had smiled in the church, but then he had thought her someone else. Now he was smiling at her, plain little Dominique Rainault, and her heart began to thud with a breathless irregularity. Often in the preceding weeks she had dreamed of such a moment, but had never expected it, not after the scene outside the church that morning.
The revulsion she had seen in his face had quite chilled her and since then he had regarded her with nothing but repugnance. She was not prepared for the sudden charm, or the way it made her want to smile right back at him. Common sense urged her to be cautious. Despite the attraction she felt for him he was, after all, one of Max’s cronies, one of that crowd of irresponsible young bucks who were more than happy to play cruel jokes upon one another. Just because he was the victim of this particular jape did not mean she could trust him.
* * *
There was a light scratching on the door, and the housekeeper peeped in.
‘Beggin’ your pardon sir, madam, but I was wondering if you would be wishing to change before dinner? The bedchamber’s not prepared yet, but your trunks have been taken up to the dressing room and there is a good fire burning in there...’
Gideon shook his head.
‘I will not change, but perhaps Mrs Albury would like to make use of it?’
‘Yes, thank you, I would like to wash my face and hands.’ Dominique made for the door, thankful for the opportunity to gather her thoughts. Unfortunately, the housekeeper was eager to talk as she escorted her up the stairs.
‘I haven’t had a chance to make up the bed, ma’am, for Alice hasn’t come yet so I’ve only got Hannah, the scullery maid, to help me and I can’t trust her to look after the kitchen, but I shall get around to that just as soon as I have finished cooking dinner. If only we’d had more notice, we would have been able to give you a welcome more suited to a new bride, but there, Mr Carstairs has never been one to give us much warning.’ The woman gave a wheezy laugh as she opened the door to the dressing room. ‘I’ve no doubt he’ll descend upon us one day with a bride of his own, and never a bit o’ notice of that, either!’
Dominique knew this was her opportunity.
‘Mrs Chiswick, could you have another bed made up for me, if you please, in a separate chamber?’
The housekeeper gave a fat chuckle as she went around the room lighting the candles.
‘Lord bless you, dearie, you won’t be needing that tonight.’
‘But I shall. You see, this is all a mistake, I never intended—’
Dominique found her hands caught in a warm clasp.
‘Now, now, my love, you ain’t the first young bride to have last-minute nerves. Do you not know what to expect on your wedding night?’
‘Well, yes, but that’s not it...’
‘Now don’t you be worrying yourself, my dear, I’ve been with Mr Chiswick for nigh on thirty years and I can tell you that you have nought to worry about, especially with a kind young man like Mr Albury. He’s always been a favourite here at Elmfield, more so than many of Mr Carstairs’s friends, I can tell you. But there, it’s not for me to criticise the master. Anyway I’m sure Mr Albury will take very good care of you. You just go and enjoy your dinner, and I’ve no doubt that once you and your man are tucked up warm and cosy in the bedroom next door you will enjoy yourself there, too!’
Dominique looked into that kindly, smiling face and knew she would have to tell the housekeeper that she and Mr Albury were not really man and wife and must have separate rooms. She took a deep breath.
‘Thank you.’
The explanation withered before it even reached her tongue. The idea of confessing the truth—and her own collusion in the deception—even to this kind-hearted soul, was beyond her. She shrivelled at the very thought of it and allowed the housekeeper to withdraw without uttering another word.
Dominique berated herself soundly. She should have insisted Mrs Chiswick make up another bed for her and put a second bed in the room for herself. She removed the lace fichu and poured water into the basin to wash her face. Did she really expect Gideon Albury to keep away from her if she did not take such measures? She might think him charming, but what did she really know of him? Should one not judge a man by his company? He was friends with her cousin and Max was a cruel bully.
The heavy gold band on her finger touched her cheek, reminding her of her perilous situation. She was married. The register had been signed and she now belonged to the man sitting downstairs in that snug little parlour. The law of the land was quite specific: she was his property, to do with as he wished. A shiver ran through her.
The distant chiming of a clock caught her attention. She had dallied as long as she dared, but she could not remain in the dressing room forever. Picking up the bedroom candle, she snuffed the other lights and made her way out through the adjoining bedchamber. The large canopied bed loomed dark and menacing in the centre of the room, the hangings casting ominous shadows over the bare mattress. Dominique averted her gaze, looking instead around the room. A large linen press stood against one wall next to a bow-fronted chest of drawers, while under the window was a pretty little writing desk, still adorned with its accessories. As she passed the light glinted on the silver inkstand with its cut-glass inkwell, silver nib box and a fine ivory-handled letter opener.
Dominique stopped and set down the candlestick. She picked up the letter opener and slid it into her sleeve. The ivory handle pressed against the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, but the buttoned cuff disguised its slight bulge. She dropped her arm. The letter opener did not move, her tight-fitting sleeve holding it fast. Satisfied, she picked up her candle and continued on her way downstairs.
* * *
Gideon was waiting for her in the parlour, a fresh bottle of wine open on the table. He had loosened his neckcloth and was lounging in a chair by the table, one booted ankle resting on the other, but she thought he looked incredibly handsome, the candlelight accentuating the smooth planes of his face. Her eyes were drawn to the sensual curve of his lips and Dominique found herself wondering what he would taste like. The thought shocked her so much that she stopped just inside the door.
Perhaps he thought she was offended by his negligent attitude, for he rose to his feet and pulled out a chair for her. Silently she sank down on to it, aware of his hands on the chair back, his presence towering over her. She took a deep breath to steady herself, but instead found her senses filled with the sharp tang of soap and a musky scent. She had a strong desire to lean back against his fingers, to turn her head and press a kiss against them, inviting him to—
No! Good heavens, where did such wicked thoughts come from? She sank her teeth into her lip, forcing herself to sit still.
‘Well...’ he refilled her glass and held it out to her ‘...did you explain our situation to Mrs Chiswick?’
‘No.’ His surprised stare would have made Dominique flush, if her cheeks had not already been burning with her own wayward thoughts. ‘I thought perhaps you should do so.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes.’ She took the glass, resisting the urge to slide her fingers over his. ‘I thought if I broached the subject she might think you had coerced me into this marriage.’
‘Instead of you tricking me.’
‘I did not!’ she retorted hotly. ‘I was as much a victim as you. Well, almost.’
His lips tightened.
‘Let us agree to blame Max for this sorry mess, shall we? He knew that someone with French blood would be the worst possible match for me.’
‘Of course.’ She recalled his reaction when Max had explained her parentage. ‘Will you tell me why that should be?’
‘Because—’ He broke off as they were interrupted again, saying impatiently, ‘Yes, Chiswick, what is it now?’
‘Dinner is ready now, sir, if you is amenable.’
‘Very well, we will be over directly.’ As the butler withdrew he turned back to Dominique, ‘We will continue this discussion later.’
He spoke harshly, but she detected a note of relief in his tone. Silently she rose and took his proffered arm as they crossed the hall to the dining room. Beneath her fingers she could feel his strength through the sleeve. He was tense, his anger barely contained. This courtesy was a veneer, a sham, and she felt as if she were walking beside a wild animal—one wrong word and he would pounce on her.
* * *
Chiswick served them, passing on his wife’s apologies for the lack of dishes upon the table. Dominique was quick to reassure him that there was more than sufficient. Indeed, by the time she had tried the white soup, followed by the neck of mutton with turnips and carrots, a little of the carp and the macaroni pie she had no room for the fricassee of chicken or any of the small sweet tarts and the plum pudding that followed. Mrs Chiswick proved to be a good cook and the wines her husband provided to accompany the dishes were excellent. Dominique drank several glasses, partly to calm her nerves. She had never before dined alone with any man and she was all too conscious of the taciturn gentleman sitting at the far end of the table. She shivered, regretting that she had left her lace fichu in the dressing room. Not that she was really cold, just...nervous.
* * *
Conversation had been necessarily stilted and she was relieved when the meal was over and she could return to the parlour. She hesitated when Gideon followed her out of the room.
‘Are you not remaining to drink your port, sir?’
‘Chiswick shall bring me some brandy in the parlour. I do not like to drink alone.’
‘I admit I have always thought it an odd custom, to remain in solitary state when there are no guests in the house. My cousin insists upon it at the Abbey, although he is rarely there without company.’
Dominique babbled on as Gideon escorted her back across the dark and echoing hall, but she could not help herself. It was nerves, she knew, but there was something else, an undercurrent of excitement at being alone with Gideon. It was a situation she had thought about—dreamed of—for weeks, only in her dreams he had been in her company out of choice, not necessity. She continued to chatter until they were both seated in the parlour. Chiswick deposited a little dish of sweetmeats at her elbow and placed a tray bearing decanters and glasses on the sideboard.
‘Shall I send in the tea tray in an hour, madam?’
‘No, let Mrs Chiswick bring it in now,’ Gideon answered for her. He added, once they were alone, ‘You can tell her when she comes in that you will require another bed to be made up.’
‘Will not you—?’
He shook his head
‘The running of a household is a woman’s business, madam. ’Tis for you to order the staff.’
He got up to pour himself a glass of brandy while Dominique stared miserably into the fire. No matter how embarrassing, she must do this. The alternative was too dreadful to contemplate.