Lady Beneath the Veil (14 page)

As if to prove her right, a sudden flush mounted Gideon’s cheek. He looked away, cleared his throat and began to walk on again,

‘Father is anxious for your well-being, my dear. If your mother’s presence would be a comfort, then she must come to Rotham.’

‘I would be v-very glad to have Mama with me,’ she stammered, still shaken by the effect of his careless embrace. ‘But I do not want to impose any extra guests upon your father.’

He chuckled. ‘Rotham is big enough to accommodate a dozen guests and Father need not see any of them.’

‘Then I will write immediately. In fact, I penned a note to her this very morning. I will open it and add a postscript. I know she will be happy to come and I will be delighted to see her.’

‘Good. Tell her to come as soon as possible. I will feel happier if you have more company, especially as I shall be leaving for Brook Street tomorrow.’

He led her to the wooden bench set into an arbour at one side of the shrubbery and they sat down.

She said shyly, ‘Must you go?’

‘I’m afraid so, I have workmen waiting upon my return to Chalcots.’ Work he had deliberately set up so that he could not be tempted to remain at Rotham, but Gideon now found he did not want to part from Nicky. ‘I wish you could come with me—’

The words came out in a rush, as if he had spoken on impulse. They gave her some comfort, but she knew it was not practical and shook her head.

‘I wish I could, but such a journey would be very tiring for me now and, knowing how anxious you and your father are for my health, it would be inadvisable.’

‘Then I shall return again as soon as possible,’ he told her. ‘And I must set Judd to finding staff for us...’

‘Mrs Ellis has a daughter who is looking for a position as housekeeper,’ said Dominique, not looking at him. ‘She has a sweetheart, Thomas, the first footman, who is very anxious to become a butler. They would make an ideal couple to look after Chalcots.’

‘What if they should start breeding?’

Gideon took the opportunity to place his hand on the swell of her belly. The life she was carrying there never ceased to amaze him.

Dominique shrugged. ‘We can always find extra help for a few months, if we need to. And you told me there is a cottage adjoining the stables at Chalcots. They might like to live there, even if it takes a little work to make it comfortable.’

‘You have thought it all out. Very well, I will mention it to Mrs Ellis today. If the couple marry in the New Year, then they can run Chalcots for us.’ He stood up and held out his hand for her. ‘Come, it is nearly time for dinner and I must change—and I have yet to show you the plans I have drawn up for our new home.’

* * *

As Gideon made his way back to London he pondered on the change that had come over Rotham—and his father. He was surprised at the way the viscount had taken to Nicky—after all, his father had as little cause to like the French as Gideon and yet, not only had he welcomed his daughter-in-law, he had even suggested that her mother should join them at Rotham. Of course, it could be merely that he was anxious for the unborn child, which might well be heir to Rotham, but somehow Gideon did not think so. It was Nicky’s doing. She had beguiled the viscount, just as she had beguiled him.

He thought back to their time in the gardens yesterday, the way his heart had stopped when he had looked down into her eyes. Not only his heart, but the whole world. He had wanted to catch her up in his arms and cover her face with kisses, to show her how much he...

His hands tightened on the reins, causing his horse to shy nervously. Madness even to think of it. She was the daughter of Jerome Rainault, a member of the hated Girondins who had murdered his brother. To feel anything for her would be to betray James.

Yet she was his wife and he could not deny he cared for her—as a friend, perhaps, and a companion, but it could not, must not ever be, more than that.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he first flakes of snow were falling from leaden skies when Gideon returned to Rotham. It was Christmas Eve and he had been fretting for days about the delays that had kept him in London. The baby—his baby—was due at any time and he was anxious to be with his wife. Since he had left her at the end of October their letters to each other had become even more frequent. When she wrote to tell him Gwen and Ribblestone were now at Fairlawns and that they visited almost every day, for the first time in his life he found himself envious of his sister.

At last the old house was before him, the windows glowing with candlelight as the short winter’s day drew to a close. Leaving Sam to take the curricle to the stables, he jumped down and ran quickly indoors, only to stop in amazement when he reached the great hall. He placed his hands on his hips and gazed about him, a laugh trembling on his lips. After the harvest supper he should have expected something of this sort. The hall glowed with the golden light of the fire blazing in the huge stone fireplace. Swathes of greenery—holly, mistletoe and ivy—decorated the walls and trailed from the minstrels’ gallery.

A discreet cough brought his attention to the butler, who was descending the stairs towards him.

‘Well, Colne, it has been some years since we last saw the hall like this.’

‘Quite so, sir. Mrs Albury was anxious to keep up the tradition.’

He grinned.

‘Of course. Where is she, in the drawing room?’

‘No, sir. She—’

He was interrupted by a shriek and Gideon saw his sister flying down the stairs towards him.

‘Gideon! We did not expect you until tomorrow at the earliest.’

‘I cancelled my appointments.’ He caught her hands, saying urgently, ‘Where is Nicky...the baby?’

Gwen nodded.

‘She is in her room and Mrs Rainault is with her. Doctor Bolton has been called.’

Gideon felt a cold hand clutching at his insides.

‘Something is wrong?’

‘No, no, only it is her first time and that makes one anxious. Go up and see her, if you like, and then you can wait with Papa, who is so nervous he cannot sit still.’

‘That is not surprising,’ muttered Gideon, ‘when you think of Mama—’

Gwen gave him a little shake.

‘Dominique is
not
Mama, Gideon. Doctor Bolton has every expectation that all will be well.’

Gideon took the stairs two at a time as he ran up to Nicky’s bedchamber, where he found her pacing the floor. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and she was very pale, almost ethereal in her white nightgown, but she smiled when she saw him.

‘I was praying you would be here.’

‘So the baby is coming?’

She put her hands around her belly and nodded.

‘Mama says it may be some time yet.’

He had not noticed Mrs Rainault, sitting by the fire with her embroidery in her lap, and he belatedly made a bow towards her. His first impressions had been of a rather absent-minded woman, pins falling from her hair and quite careless of her appearance, but since coming to Rotham she seemed to have become much more sensible and was now quietly devoted to her daughter’s well-being. He was somewhat reassured by her calm tone when she addressed him.

‘This first stage might go on for hours.’

‘Then I shall stay and keep you company.’

Nicky took his hands. ‘I would rather you dined with Lord Rotham. He is so anxious I fear he will not eat anything if he is alone.’

He pulled her into his arms and rested his head against her dusky curls. It felt so natural, so right, that he wondered why he had not done so more often.

‘I am more anxious about you.’

‘Thank you, but you need not be.’ She relaxed against him and he could feel the hard swell of her belly pressing against him until she pushed herself free, saying with a little smile, ‘Go now and look after your father. I have Mama here and the doctor is on his way. I shall do very well.’

It took some time to persuade him, but at last Gideon went off, promising to come back as soon as he had dined. He found Gwen and the viscount in the drawing room, sitting on each side of the fire. Lord Rotham looked up as he entered.

‘Well?’

He said, as cheerfully as he could, ‘I am told there may be no news for hours, perhaps nothing until the morning. My wife is anxious that we should eat.’

‘Of course you should,’ said Gwen, rising and drawing on her gloves. ‘You may be keeping this vigil all night and it will do you no good to go hungry.’

‘You are not staying?’

‘I must go back to Fairlawns.’ Gideon’s brows rose and she added in an airy tone, ‘Not that Anthony will be anxious for me, of course, but he will want to know how things go on here. Send word as soon as there is news, or if you have need of me.’ She kissed her father’s cheek, adjured Gideon not to worry and sailed out just as Colne appeared to announce dinner.

* * *

They sat down at the table in the oak parlour, Gideon commenting that the chamber was so much more comfortable in the winter than the cavernous dining room.

‘One of your wife’s many suggestions.’ The viscount gave a little smile. ‘She has transformed Rotham, Gideon. She made me see how reclusive I had become.’ He looked at his plate. ‘I do not like to eat while she is...’

Gideon, too, was anxious, but he helped himself from the dishes before him and pushed one of them towards his father.

‘Try a little chicken, sir. It could be a long night.’

With a shrug the viscount took a few slices on to his plate, but he ate sparingly.

‘Childbirth is a dangerous time, my son. I cannot help but worry.’

‘Doctor Bolton is a good man. He delivered Gwen’s children quite safely.’ Gideon tried to calm his own fears but Nicky was so small and delicate that it was not easy.

* * *

After dinner Gideon and his father retired to the drawing room. They were informed that Dr Bolton was even now with his patient, so there was nothing they could do but wait. They indulged in a half-hearted game of backgammon and were just setting up the board for another game when the doctor came in.

‘Everything looks to be as it should,’ he announced cheerfully, accepting a glass of brandy from Gideon. ‘Mrs Albury would not have the month nurse here earlier, but I have brought her now. Mrs Moss is very experienced in these matters and Mrs Albury also has her mother to look after her. There is nothing for me to do at present, so I will call again in the morning.’ He drained his glass and set it down. ‘I suggest that you both get some sleep. The child will come in its own time.’

‘May I see her?’ asked Gideon.

The doctor shrugged.

‘Of course, but do not expect a warm welcome—the birthing chamber is the women’s domain.’

Gideon went immediately to his wife’s room. She had been persuaded to lie down and, despite the nurse’s less-than-friendly look, Nicky held her hand out to him.

‘The pains come and go,’ she told him. ‘It is quite natural, isn’t it, Mrs Moss?’

The nurse had retreated to a chair by the fire and was sucking contentedly on her pipe.

‘Aye, lass, you’ve nothing to fret about, particularly with your mother and me to look after you.’

Gideon sat with Nicky until her eyelids began to droop. When he was sure she was asleep he returned to the drawing room, where he found his father sitting in his chair, his eyes on the dancing flames of the fire.

‘Father, why do you not go to bed? You can do no good here.’

The viscount raised his eyes to meet Gideon’s.

‘Are you going to retire?’

‘Er, no.’

‘Then I shall keep the vigil with you, if I may?’

‘Of course.’ Gideon took the chair opposite. ‘I shall be glad of your company.’

Nodding, the viscount rang for another bottle of brandy to help them through the long night.

‘I did not anticipate I should approve your wife, Gideon, given her birth and the circumstances of your marriage, but I do. In fact, I have grown extremely fond of her. She has made herself indispensable here. Not that she ever puts herself forwards,’ he added quickly. ‘She behaves just as she ought and yet, one cannot ignore her.’

‘No, indeed, sir.’ A smile tugged at Gideon’s mouth.

The viscount said quietly, ‘I could not have chosen better for you.’ He shrugged. ‘So her father was French—are we to hold that against her? Your aunt fell in love with a Frenchman, after all.’

‘And paid the price for it.’ Gideon shifted uncomfortably. ‘And my brother, too—’

Lord Rotham put up a hand.

‘It is time we put that behind us. However, what I cannot forget is my wife’s demise.’ He said earnestly, ‘Dominique may be strong, but too many babies will wear her out, Gideon. If you are prey to carnal lusts, then take a mistress, but for God’s sake leave your wife alone, or risk losing her, as I lost your mother.’

* * *

They fell silent. It was not the first time the viscount had told Gideon that a surfeit of love had killed Lady Rotham, that he had been unable to control his passion. Well, that would not be a problem in this case: Gideon did not love Nicky.

Even as the thought entered his head Gideon realised it was a lie. There had been plenty of passion on their wedding night, but since then he had tried to deny that he felt anything for his wife save animosity for her French connections. Now, however, as the clock ticked away the minutes and the night slid quietly and coldly into Christmas Day, he realised how much Nicky meant to him. He wondered what he would do if he lost her, if she died before he could tell her how much he loved her.

* * *

The cushions that Dominique had added to the drawing-room chairs made it possible for the two men to slumber fitfully until the grey light of a new winter’s day filtered through the window. The fire had burned down and Gideon was becoming aware of the uncomfortable chill around his legs when the opening of the drawing-room door brought him fully awake with a jerk.

The butler stood in the doorway, clearly having difficulty in maintaining his impassive countenance.

‘Yes, Colne, what is it?’

The elderly butler drew himself up and announced in a voice that shook slightly, ‘Sir—my lord, Mrs Albury’s maid has just come downstairs and told us that her mistress has been delivered of a healthy baby. A boy, my lord.’

‘And Mrs Albury?’ Gideon held his breath.

A smile split the old servant’s face.

‘She is well, sir.’

Without another word Gideon sprang out of his chair and raced up the stairs, reaching the landing just as Mrs Moss appeared, her arms full of bedsheets. The woman grinned at him.

‘You’ll be wantin’ to see yer new son, I’ll be bound.’

‘And my wife.’

‘Aye, well, she’s exhausted, but no doubt she’ll be pleased to see you. We’ve just cleaned her up and the babe, so in you go.’

Quietly Gideon entered the room. Mrs Rainault was standing by the bed, a small snuffling bundle in her arms. She smiled.

‘Come and meet your new son, sir.’

Gideon glanced at the red-faced scrap, but quickly turned his attention to the bed where Nicky lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. It was limp and cool in his grasp, but she gave his fingers a slight squeeze.

‘We have a son, Gideon. Are you pleased?’

‘Delighted.’ He smiled down at her. ‘But even more pleased that you are well, Dominique.’

Through the fog of exhaustion Dominique noted his use of her name—the first time since their wedding night. With a satisfied smile she slipped away into a deep sleep.

* * *

Dominique’s insistence that old traditions should be revived made Christmas at Rotham more festive than any Gideon could remember since his childhood, but it was the birth of young Master Albury that gave the celebrations an added edge. Mother and baby continued to thrive under the watchful care of Mrs Rainault and the month nurse, and Lord Rotham ordered that Colne should treat the servants to a few bottles of his best claret to toast the health of his new grandson, James Jerome Albury.

With each day the viscount became more cheerful, never more so than on the first evening that Dominique was well enough to come downstairs for dinner. She took her place opposite her mother, while Gideon and his father sat at each end of the small table in the oak parlour. Conversation was desultory, until the covers were removed and Mrs Rainault announced that she should be thinking of returning to Martlesham.

‘I have rather neglected my letter writing since being here with you,’ she told Dominique, when she protested.

‘Surely you can write your letters anywhere,’ remarked the viscount.

‘Why, yes, my lord, but I have taken advantage of your hospitality long enough.’

The viscount sat back and steepled his long fingers together.

‘I wonder, ma’am, if you might consider moving to Rotham? I own a small house in the village that is empty at present.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I would like to help you in your efforts to find out what has happened to your husband—Gideon has told me of your quest, ma’am, and Lord Martlesham’s—er—reluctance to help you.’

Dominique looked up. ‘I believe he discarded Mama’s letters, rather than frank them.’

The viscount frowned. ‘That would not happen at Rotham, I assure you.’

‘But we must not raise false hopes,’ said Gideon quickly. ‘Our lawyer in London has been looking into the case, but we have had no luck at all.’

‘Rogers is a good man,’ said the viscount. ‘I am sure he has gone through all the official channels.’

‘I believe so, my lord.’ Dominique sighed.

‘I, on the other hand,’ he murmured, ‘will go through rather more—unofficial channels.’

Dominique stared at the viscount. He was sipping his wine, that disturbing twinkle in his eyes.

‘Would you do that for me, my lord? For Jerome?’ Mrs Rainault gave a tiny shake of her head. ‘I beg your pardon, but I know—that is, I am aware—that you have no cause to think kindly of any Girondin.’

‘Dominique has told me your husband advocated moderation. I understand he gave up the chance to come to England with you because he wanted to save his king.’