Lady Beneath the Veil

by Sarah Mallory

‘What? Oh, no—that is—’

  ‘Come along, ma’am, I am sure everyone wants to hear you.’ Sir Desmond was beaming and beckoning her forwards.

  Gideon turned to her.

  ‘I would like to hear you, very much, but if you wish I will tell them you would rather not.’

  The kindly understanding in his eyes boosted her spirits. She squared her shoulders.

  ‘No,’ she said, smiling a little, ‘I have been happy enough to listen to the others, it is only fair I take my turn.’

  A smattering of applause went round the room as she rose and made her way to the pianoforte. Sir Desmond hovered around her, adjusting the candles and asking if he should search out any music for her from the pile of sheets on the table.

  ‘Perhaps Mrs Albury will play us a French air,’ sniggered someone from the audience.

  Dominique affected not to hear, but she was heartened when Gideon responded with a laugh, ‘Perhaps she will—whatever her choice I know it will be delightful. What is it to be, my dear?’

  ‘A piece by Mr Mozart, I think,’ she declared.

  The ‘Fantasia’ was not long and not even particularly difficult. She had performed it many times for her mother and knew she could play it well, but her confidence wavered when she looked around the room and realised how many people were watching her. Then her gaze fell upon Gideon. He was smiling at her. Everyone else was forgotten. She would play for him and him alone.

  * * *

  As she struck the last confident chords she smiled, knowing she had done well. The applause was instant and the first ‘brava’ she heard was from Gideon. There were calls for an encore, but she shook her head, blushing, and would have joined Gideon, but Gwendoline carried her off to enjoy the praise and compliments of her guests.

  ‘Gideon shall have you back in a while,’ she told Dominique, sweeping her away. ‘You must not allow him to monopolise you, my dear.’

  ‘By Gad no,’ declared Sir Desmond, accompanying them across the room. ‘It’s about time you gave the rest of us a share of your company, madam.’

  When she glanced over her shoulder she saw Gideon smile and nod to her, before joining a group of gentlemen gathered about Lord Ribblestone, so she allowed Gwen to lead her to a lively little group who were enjoying a final glass of wine together before the carriages were called.

  ‘I thought we should never get a word with you,’ exclaimed Mrs Innis, a buxom matron swathed in mulberry silk. ‘Albury has been guarding you all evening.’

  ‘Not guarding,’ Dominique protested with a smile. ‘I enjoy his company.’

  ‘La, madam, pray do not say such a thing!’ cried Sir Desmond, throwing up his hands.

  ‘At least not in front of Gideon,’ added Gwen. ‘It would make him horribly conceited, you know.’

  ‘Yes,’ declared Mrs Innis. ‘A husband needs to be kept on his toes. ‘You must not let him take you for granted.’

  ‘You should set up a flirt,’ whispered Gwendoline. ‘As I have done.’ She turned to Sir Desmond, who was hovering about her. ‘My dear, will you be an angel and fetch me another glass of wine? I am quite parched this evening.’

  As he lounged away Mrs Innis gave a fat chuckle.

  ‘If only we were all fortunate enough to have such a devoted lap dog.’

  ‘Desmond is very sweet,’ agreed Gwen, smiling after his retreating form.

  ‘But, does Lord Ribblestone not object?’ enquired Dominique.

  Gwen’s smile slipped a little.

  ‘I doubt he even notices.’

  Mrs Innis tapped Dominique’s arm with her closed fan.

  ‘Lord bless you, Mrs Albury. A man don’t want his wife to be forever clinging to his coat-tails, ain’t that so, Lady Ribblestone?’

  ‘No, indeed.’ Gwen shook off her reverie and gave a bright smile. ‘Pray do not look so shocked, dear sister. It is all the rage to have a cicisbeo, I assure you.’

  ‘But I don’t want a—a—’

  ‘Not a case of what you want,’ put in another lady, her eyes fixed rather wistfully upon a thin, bewhiskered gentleman on the far side of the room. ‘Grayson only shows an interest in me if he thinks he has a rival.’

  ‘Perhaps it is a little early for Mrs Albury to be setting up a flirt,’ said Mrs Innis, considering. ‘She is not yet married a month.’

  ‘It is much too early,’ Dominique replied emphatically. ‘I mean to be an exemplary wife.’

  ‘Very admirable, my dear, but you need to take care,’ said the wistful woman. ‘Nothing revolts a man more than an excessive display of affection from his spouse. Men are such contrary creatures, they are most attracted to the very thing they cannot have.’

  And that would be the beautiful actress, thought Dominique, maintaining her smile with an effort.

  ‘Very true, Lady Grayson,’ averred Mrs Innis, the dyed ostrich feathers in her turban nodding vigorously. ‘You must never appear too eager for his attentions—that way leads only to disaster.’

  Dominique turned to Gwendoline, expecting her to say that was nonsense, but instead her sister-in-law nodded, saying slowly, ‘You know, my dear, I think Gideon is very much like a dog with a bone. He may not want you at all, until someone else shows an interest.’

  Dominique grimaced.

  ‘I am not a piece of meat, Gwen.’

  ‘No-o, but as his wife he may think he does not need to work for your affection.’

  ‘Perhaps I should talk to him—’

  ‘Fatal, my dear,’ declared Gwen. ‘You must keep Gideon at arm’s length if you want to maintain his interest.’

  ‘But surely—’

  ‘Only a trollop would throw herself at a man,’ stated Mrs Innis baldly, ignoring Dominique’s attempt to speak. ‘Give him your smiles, my dear, but never your sighs. Let him kiss you and make love to you, but never, never allow him to believe you care or it will be all over with you. He will be setting up his mistress and treating you like a bond slave. He will dominate and bully you until you are the unhappiest being in the world and he won’t even care.’

  ‘Who won’t care?’ demanded Sir Desmond, returning at that moment. ‘If you are talking of Lady R, then I care very much.’

  ‘Which just proves what we have been saying,’ responded Gwendoline lightly. ‘Men always want the one thing they cannot have.’

  ‘What nonsense are you telling my wife?’ demanded Gideon, coming up while they were all laughing.

  ‘Merely a few home truths, Brother, regarding how best to remain happy.’

  ‘My wife’s happiness is, of course, my chief concern.’ He made her a little bow and held out his arm. ‘Our carriage awaits, ma’am. I think it is time we said goodnight.’

  * * *

  ‘I think that passed off very well,’ he remarked as they drove home through the dark streets. ‘And my sister introduced you to her friends?’

  ‘Yes. Including Sir Desmond Arndale.’ She drew a breath. ‘Is...um...is he her lover?’

  ‘I doubt it, but much of Anthony’s time is taken up with government matters and Arndale is useful when Gwen needs an escort. A harmless fribble.’

  ‘And is Lord Ribblestone jealous of him?’

  ‘Lord, no.’ He turned towards her. ‘Why this sudden interest in Arndale?’

  ‘I am curious to know how married women go on in London.’

  ‘Many of them behave scandalously.’ He leaned closer and reached out to cup her chin and turn her towards him. ‘But I don’t intend to allow you to behave like that, at least only with me.’

  Her heart began to hammer as he kissed her and she raised her hand to touch his cheek, then pulled it back.

  Men always want what they cannot have.

  She must not show him how much she wanted him, yet surely he could
hear her heart? She could hardly breathe it was thudding so heavily against her ribs. The carriage began to slow and he raised his head.

  ‘We are home,’ he murmured. ‘Be ready for me tonight. I shall come to your room.’

  * * *

  If Dominique had thought waiting in the drawing room for Gideon to finish his port was nerve-racking, waiting for him to come to her bedchamber was almost unbearable. She allowed Kitty to dress her in one of the soft linen nightdresses she had chosen with Gwendoline, then dismissed her and sat on the edge of the bed with only the glow of the fire and a single candle to relieve the darkness. The trunk she had brought with her from Martlesham was just visible in the gloom and when a sudden flare of the candle flame glinted on its studded lid she went over and opened it, rifling through the contents to pull out a gossamer-thin creation. This is what the unseen and unknown Agnes Bennet would have worn, she thought. But Agnes knew exactly how to tease a man into submission—witness the way she had bewitched Gideon into offering her marriage.

  Put it on, whispered the seductive voice in her head. It will reveal your body and drive him to distraction.

  But Dominique knew her slender form could not compare with the voluptuous curves of Agnes Bennet. Gideon might be disgusted with her—worse, he might even laugh. Quickly she put the wispy confection away again. The trunk must be removed, it was a constant reminder of the woman Gideon had wanted for his bride.

  She heard a soft noise somewhere in the quiet house and ran back to the bed. Straining her ears, she picked up the sound of footsteps getting closer and she clasped her hands together nervously.

  * * *

  Gideon had not entered this bedchamber since he was a child. It had been his mother’s room and, apart from ordering that it was to be redecorated for his bride, he had not given it another thought—he realised a little ruefully that when he had issued those orders he had thought that his wife would spend most of her nights in his bed. But the woman he had envisaged sharing his life with was nothing like the woman he had married.

  Something stirred within him when he saw the pale creature standing before the bed, her hair a dusky cloud around her shoulders. It was not the hot lust of their wedding night, more an urge to protect her, to make her happy.

  ‘I...um...I hope this room is to your liking?’

  ‘Yes, it is very comfortable, thank you.’

  Silently he cursed his awkwardness. This was not a conversation for the bedroom. Why had he come here tonight? He recalled how beautifully she had played at Gwen’s soirée, his pride in her performance, the possessiveness he had felt when the men had clustered round her. A spike of desire coursed through him and he tried again.

  ‘You played like an angel tonight.’ She smiled at that. Encouraged, he moved closer, holding out his hands. ‘I did not know I had such an accomplished wife.’

  Cautiously she reached out for him.

  ‘I am glad that I pleased you, Gideon.’

  ‘You do please me.’ As he pulled her into his arms he realised that he really meant it. ‘You please me a great deal.’

  She looked up at him, shyly accepting his kiss.

  * * *

  Gideon made love to her that night. Dominique returned his caresses but she kept her emotions in check and tried to respond as she thought a wife should, compliant and quietly accepting of his attentions. His lovemaking was gentle and restrained, as if he was afraid she might break beneath him, and although there was none of the hot heady passion of their first coupling, when it was over, Dominique found it immensely satisfying to have him lying with her, to hold him in her arms until he slipped from her bed to make the way back to his own room in the chill dark hours before dawn.

  Chapter Seven

  The following weeks were the happiest Dominique had ever known. Gideon bought her diamonds for her wedding gift and she wore them on almost every occasion. He took her driving in the park and escorted her everywhere, to balls, parties and breakfasts, introducing her to his friends and acquaintances. Whatever the news-sheets might say, he showed no signs of dissatisfaction with his bride, either in public or in private, when he came to her room at night. Dominique loved the special closeness of those nights and although he always returned to his own room before morning, when they met at breakfast, she thought his eyes had an added warmth when he greeted her.

  * * *

  As her confidence grew, Dominique began to make more changes to the Brook Street house. She ordered fresh flowers and arranged them in the hall and in the morning room, which had become her personal domain and where she was in the habit of entertaining her growing number of friends. The silent, tomblike atmosphere lifted, the servants looked happier and even Gideon remarked that the house felt much more like home. They were returning from a drive in the park when he said this and Dominique could not suppress a smile.

  ‘Do you really think so? I am so pleased, because I was afraid you might not want me to change anything in your father’s house.’

  ‘You are mistress there,’ he said, picking up her hand and kissing it. ‘You may change whatever you wish.’

  She felt the little bubble of happiness growing inside her. Gideon was more and more in the habit of such gestures and not only when they were in public. She was beginning to believe he genuinely cared for her. She wished she might respond in kind, but she could not forget Gwen’s words of advice, that Gideon would find any such show of affection repellent. And Gwen was his sister, so she must know best.

  When they reached Brook Street, Gideon helped her down and she felt his hand resting lightly on her back as he escorted her into the house. The butler opened the door to them, smiling broadly as he announced to Gideon that the delivery he had been waiting for had arrived.

  ‘It has been set up, sir, just as you ordered.’

  ‘Thank you, Judd.’ Gideon relinquished his hat and gloves to the waiting footman, then put his hand under her elbow. ‘Come, you should see this, too.’

  He led her to the drawing room.

  He said, as the butler closed the door quietly behind them, ‘Well, what do you think?’

  Dominique stared, blinked and stared again. Standing next to the piano was a golden harp and beside it a small stool covered with gold satin.

  ‘Oh, Gideon,’ she breathed, ‘is it for me?’

  ‘Of course. We have been in town for three months now and it is something of an...er...anniversary present.’

  She ran forwards and began to inspect it, running her fingers reverently over the strings.

  ‘It is beautiful.’

  ‘You said you used to play and I would like to hear you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, once I have had time to practise a little.’ She went back to him, unable to prevent herself from smiling. ‘You are too generous to me, Gideon, thank you so much.’

  Without thinking she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

  ‘Oh! I beg your pardon.’ She blushed and would have drawn back, but his arms slipped around her.

  ‘Not at all. I must give you more presents, if that is the way you thank me.’

  He was grinning down at her and suddenly all the careful restraint, the polite friendliness she had worked so hard to cultivate was forgotten. She could not speak for the heavy tattoo her heart was beating against her ribs and the sudden breathlessness that had overtaken her. She still had her arms about his neck and she could feel the silky softness of his hair against her fingers. The grin softened into a smile and the glint in his eyes heated her blood. She felt the tug of desire deep in her core and instinctively her body pressed against him.

  Gideon’s arms tightened as his body responded to the feel of her. It was the first time since their wedding night that she had taken the initiative and kissed him and he was surprised that her display of affection should please him
so much. She felt so right in his arms and his sudden arousal was completed when he breathed in the scent of her, a mixture of summer flowers and an indefinable fragrance that he had come to recognise during those dark intimate nights as hers alone. The memory of her naked body heated his blood. He lowered his head to nibble at the tender lobe of her ear. She shuddered, but pressed even closer. A bolt of white-hot desire shot through him as he thought of the heights they might attain together.

  ‘There is still an hour before we need change for dinner.’ Dominique’s very bones liquefied as his deep voice caressed her heightened senses. ‘Would you like to—?’

  A knock on the door interrupted them. As it opened Dominique quickly stepped out of his arms, but Gideon hung on to one hand, linking his fingers through hers. ‘Yes, Judd, what is it?’

  ‘The Earl of Martlesham, sir, wishing to know if you are at home.’

  Gideon sighed. ‘I suppose we must see him. Send him in.’

  He cast a rueful look towards Dominique, who tried to hide her disappointment. Every fibre of her being screamed out that he should send her cousin to the devil, but the damage had been done, the magic of the moment was gone—perhaps Gideon had never felt it at all. The butler withdrew, to return a moment later and announce the earl in sonorous tones. Max came in, his fair features a little flushed from the heat of the day and his eyes going immediately to their linked hands.

  Unhurriedly Gideon stepped forwards, saying calmly, ‘Martlesham, good day to you. Have you come to see how we go on?’

  Max returned Gideon’s bow with a brief nod.

  ‘Good day to you, Albury, Cousin. I thought I should call to let you know I was back in town.’

  ‘How very good of you.’

  Gideon’s voice was heavy with sarcasm, which brought a dull angry flush to Max’s face. Remembering her place as mistress of the house, Dominique invited him to sit down.

  ‘Have you seen my mother?’ she asked, when they had made themselves comfortable. ‘Is she well?’

  ‘Aye, as well as she ever will be. She came to see me just before I left Martlesham Abbey. Wanted me to use my influence to get her an audience with the Foreign Secretary. As if I had any! Told her she must look to you, Albury, for that sort of thing. As her son-in-law I have no doubt you would like nothing better than to seek out your new French relatives.’