Lady Beneath the Veil (10 page)

‘Then so, too, shall I,’ declared Monsieur Lamotte. They were entering the ballroom, where the musicians were already tuning up for the next set. He said, a laugh in his voice, ‘I would ask you to dance with me, but I fear I have taken far too much of your time already and see several gentlemen giving me the angry look.’

She blushed and disclaimed, but did not seek to detain him. Even as she watched him walking away two young gentlemen came up, cheerfully vying with each other for the privilege of leading her out. Smiling, Dominique turned her thoughts away from Raymond Lamotte and gave herself up to the enjoyable task of choosing a dance partner.

* * *

‘I am sorry I was not able to take you in to supper,’ said Gideon as they rode home later that night. ‘Anthony and I were caught up in a political discussion and I did not like to abandon him. I hope you found someone to look after you?’

‘Yes, I did, thank you.’

Dominique struggled briefly with her conscience, wondering how she could explain to Gideon about Monsieur Lamotte, but even as she tried to frame her reply he took her hand, saying, ‘That’s good. I am glad you are finding your feet in town, Nicky.’

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied. ‘I go on much more comfortably, now I know so many people.’

‘Aye, I noticed you were never without a partner tonight.’ He laughed. ‘It will soon be that you will not have need of me to accompany you at all.’

She turned, looking at his dark shape beside her as she said earnestly, ‘Oh, never say that, Gideon. I would not be half so comfortable if you were not with me.’

He laughed and raised her hand to his lips.

‘Flatterer!’

Did he really think that, or was he perhaps looking forward to the day when he could leave her to fend for herself and return to his old bachelor ways? Dominique longed to ask him, but she kept silent, fearful of his answer.

Chapter Nine

D
ominique met Raymond in Green Park the following morning. They spoke only briefly, but arranged to meet again the next day, and the next. Raymond was a charming companion. Not only were his recollections of France quite riveting, but he was also interested in her own childhood memories, and since she dared not mention her French connections to Gideon it was a relief to be able to talk about her family with someone who understood what she had been through. Soon she felt that they were firm friends.

However, they had very few acquaintances in common, so it was some weeks before they met again socially, at an evening party given by Lord and Lady Dortwood. Dominique spotted Raymond in the crowd, but although he acknowledged her with a faint nod the evening was well advanced before he came over to greet her.

‘I thought you would never ask me to dance,’ she said, when he led her out to join a new set.

‘I was not sure you would wish to acknowledge me,’ he murmured. ‘I see you are with your husband.’

‘Of course I will acknowledge you,’ she said, feeling the heat burning her cheeks. ‘I am not ashamed of knowing you!’

She danced on, unsettled by the realisation that she had not mentioned her friendship with Raymond to anyone. Their morning walks in Green Park had so far excited no comment since they had never met anyone with whom Dominique was acquainted. Now it occurred to her that others might consider such meetings to be clandestine. That would not do, at all.

When the dance ended she took Raymond’s arm and firmly led him across the room to where Gideon was waiting. She performed the introduction and after a short exchange Raymond moved away. Gideon lifted his quizzing glass to watch him go.

‘Where did you say you met him?’

‘At the Knightsons’ ball.’ She frowned up at him. ‘Really, Gideon, was it necessary to be so cold towards Monsieur Lamotte? You barely spoke half-a-dozen words to him.’

‘I beg your pardon, my dear, but we have so little in common.’

‘It was more than that. You were positively arctic!’

‘I am certainly surprised by your friendship with the fellow.’

‘You are offended, because he is French,’ she declared hotly. ‘Your hatred of the whole race is quite unreasonable.’

He did not reply and with a toss of her head she turned away.

‘Nicky!’ She stopped and he said quietly, ‘I would rather you did not pursue your acquaintance with Monsieur Lamotte.’

She turned, her brows raised in haughty surprise.

‘That is outrageous! You cannot dictate with whom I shall associate.’

‘I was not aware I was dictating to you, my dear, merely making my wishes clear.’

‘It is the same thing.’

‘Not at all.’

‘And if I refuse to comply?’

His eyes narrowed. He leaned closer so that his words were for her alone.

‘Do not forget, madam, that you are my wife.’

Her head went up.

‘But I am not your slave!’

With a swish of her skirts she flounced away from him.

How dare Gideon dictate to her! It was nothing but prejudice, because Raymond was French, and she was tired of it. She wished Gwendoline was here, but she was attending some tedious political dinner with Ribblestone. There was no one else present to whom she could pour out her anger and frustration, so she took herself off to the card room and proceeded to lose a large portion of her pin money.

* * *

However, by the time she left the card room her temper had cooled, so that when she saw her husband in the ballroom she went straight up to him, saying penitently, ‘I beg your pardon, Gideon, I should not have ripped up at you so.’ His brows went up, but the harshness left his face as he took her outstretched hand and she was emboldened to continue. ‘I understand why you might not like Monsieur Lamotte, but he is a link with my childhood, the life I knew before we moved to England.’ She clung to his fingers. ‘Please do not ask me to give him up.’

He stared down at her, a look she could not interpret in his hazel eyes.

‘Is he merely an acquaintance, Nicky, nothing more?’

‘Of course. What else should he be?’

‘And your morning meetings with him in Green Park?’ When her eyes flew to his face he gave her a wry smile. ‘You were seen, by Anthony. I told him it was nothing and the fact that you had your maid with you gives weight to my belief.’

‘And it
is
nothing, Gideon, I give you my word.’ She sighed. ‘But I quite see how it must look, so I shall not meet him there again.’

‘Thank you.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I will not have the fellow call at Brook Street, but if you meet him at such parties as this and wish to dance with him, I will not object.’

A compromise. She was aware of how much ground he was giving.

‘Very well, Gideon. Thank you.’ She suddenly felt very tired. ‘Do you think our hostess would object if I went home now?’

‘No, of course not. I shall escort you. Go downstairs and collect your wrap while I give our excuses to Lady Dortwood.’

Dominique made her way to the hall, where a lackey was sent scurrying off to fetch her cloak.

‘I fear your husband does not like me.’

Dominique whirled about to find Raymond Lamotte standing behind her.

She gave a sad little smile. ‘It will be best if we discontinue our walks together,
monsieur
.’

He shook his head. ‘Ah, that is a sadness, because I have something to discuss with you.’

‘We will have to do so the next time we meet—’

‘It concerns your father.’ His words brought her eyes flying to his face. He continued, ‘You told me you were trying to find him, so I have made the enquiries. I have friends in France who still have influence with the
Directoire
. They will know how to find the missing person. Some have been imprisoned for many years and it is not easy to gain information, but there is a man who knows how to do these things. He moves regularly between France and England, but secretly, so the less people who know of this the better. I have spoken to him about your father and he thinks we may be able to find him.’

She shook her head, hardly daring to hope. ‘Then you must come to the house. Gideon could not object to that—’

‘Oh, but I fear he would,
madame
. You have told me yourself he is not a friend to my country. He would think it a—how do you say it?—a ploy.
Non
, I would rather discuss this with you alone. I need information from you.’

‘Anything,’ she said eagerly.

‘
Eh bien
, you must write down everything you remember of your father—where he lived, what he looked like, who his friends were. No little detail is too small. When you have done that, you must bring it to me at my lodgings and I will pass it on to my friend.’

‘Yes, yes, I will, of course.’

‘Good. I need the information by tomorrow evening. My contact is returning to France the following morning and he has promised to seek out news of your father.’

‘Oh, oh, thank you.’ She felt the hope bubbling up within her again.
Maman
would be so pleased when she told her! ‘I shall begin writing it all up tonight and send it round—’

‘No, you must bring it yourself. Can you be there at five o’clock? Then I can read it and if there are any things that are not clear, any questions, you will be there to answer them.’

‘Yes, of course, I understand.’

‘Good.’ He gave her his direction, looking over his shoulder as the servant hurried up to them carrying her rose silk wrap over his arm. ‘I must go now. Remember, my contact relies upon secrecy—if he is discovered, then all is lost.’

She nodded. ‘You may trust me to tell no one.’

‘Thank you,
madame
.’ He smiled and pressed a final kiss upon her fingers. ‘Until tomorrow, then. Five o’clock. Do not be late!’

He hurried away and Dominique absently fastened her cloak about her shoulders.
Maman
had been trying for years to find news of Papa without success. To have someone else searching, someone who knew the workings of the French government, surely they would have far more chance of finding out the truth? She had never quite given up hope, but it had lain dormant and now, suddenly, it was blossoming again. She could not wait to get back to Brook Street and write out everything she could remember about her father.

* * *

Gideon found his wife very distracted on the homeward journey. He wondered if she was regretting her promise to give up her walks with Raymond Lamotte. When Ribblestone had mentioned that he had seen Nicky walking with a French émigré in Green Park Gideon had shrugged it off. He guessed it was a chance meeting, and he quite understood why she had not mentioned the matter to him, but a casual remark to Kitty when he met her on the stairs two days later elicited the information that her mistress was in the habit of walking in the park every morning. And, yes, the French gentleman was always there.

Intrigued, but not yet alarmed, Gideon had asked Anthony to make discreet enquiries and found that the émigré was 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.’