Lady Beneath the Veil

by Sarah Mallory

  Gwen squeezed her hand.

  ‘You must remember that Gideon was a witness to Mama’s protracted ill health and her early demise. That is a much stronger argument than any the good doctor can put forwards. Papa told Anthony the same thing—I had left the drawing room one evening, soon after we were married, and when I returned Father was giving his new son-in-law the benefit of his advice—keep your lust for your mistress, my boy.’ Gwen added, a little wistfully, ‘Not that Anthony had a mistress, apart from his politics.’

  ‘So, am I not alone?’ murmured Dominique, thinking of the poor French Queen and the salacious accusations against her. ‘Am I not w-wicked to have such strong feelings?’

  ‘Not wicked at all, love. But I have told you before— sometimes men need a little push to show them just what is under their nose. You should set up a flirt. There are any number of men here who would oblige you.’

  ‘But I do not want a lover!’

  ‘Not a lover, Dominique, merely someone to show you some attention and make Gideon realise how desirable you are.’

  ‘There was such a person in town last year,’ said Dominique miserably. ‘A Frenchman. I nearly made the most terrible mistake, but Gideon f-found me just in time, only he was not the least bit jealous.’

  ‘Well, that was last year. Gideon thinks a lot more of you now.’ Gwen looked up. ‘Hush now, he is coming.’ She cast a mischievous glance at Dominique and beckoned to Gideon. ‘So you have found us, Brother. What do you think of your wife tonight? Is she not exquisitely ravishable in that red gown?’

  ‘Gwendoline!’ Dominique’s protest was no more than an outraged squeak.

  ‘Exquisite, certainly,’ returned Gideon. He held out his hand. ‘The singing is about to start, my dear, and I think you would enjoy it.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She rose with alacrity. ‘Thank you, Gwen, for your advice.’

  ‘And what advice would that be?’ Gideon quizzed her as he bore Dominique away.

  ‘She says I should make you jealous,’ she offered, slanting a look up at him.

  Gideon laughed.

  ‘I am not the jealous type, so you would be wasting your time, my dear.’

  * * *

  No, thought Dominique as she accompanied Gideon to the music room. Jealousy argued a strong passion and, apart from their wedding night, so very long ago, Gideon had shown no passion for her at all.

  * * *

  By the time the singing had ended the evening was well advanced and Dominique was happy to agree when Gideon suggested they should go home. They sought out Lady Grayson to take their leave of her and found their hostess deep in conversation with Gwendoline.

  ‘My dears, Lady Ribblestone has been telling me of the delightful burletta that is playing at the Theatre Royal,’ said Lady Grayson, when they came up to her. ‘What is it called, my dear?’

  ‘Midas,’ Gwen replied. ‘We are all mad to see it, Gideon, and I am putting together a party for Friday night. Will you join us?’

  Dominique held her breath, but Gwen met her eyes for a moment before she handed Gideon a leaflet, saying innocently, ‘I obtained this playbill. You will see that the cast is quite unexceptionable.’

  Gideon unfolded the paper and Dominique peeped across as he read it. She wondered whether he was relieved or disappointed to find that Agnes Bennet’s name was not there.

  ‘Why, yes, I suppose we might go,’ he said at last. ‘Will Ribblestone be there?’

  Gwen replied with an elegant shrug, ‘No doubt he will be at the House until all hours, so I shall not wait for him. But you must all come and dine in Grosvenor Square first. What do you say?’

  ‘I should be delighted,’ responded Lady Grayson. ‘What about you, Mr Albury?’

  ‘Very well, unless my wife has any objections?’

  ‘No, sir, none.’

  ‘Then it is settled,’ cried Gwen, clapping her hands. ‘We shall all go to Drury Lane on Friday!’

  * * *

  The idea of the theatre party occupied Dominique’s thoughts all the way back to Chalcots. She was so lost in thought that when they reached the house and Gideon asked her if she wanted to take a glass of wine with him before retiring, he had to repeat his question.

  ‘Oh, I am so sorry, Gideon, my thoughts were otherwhere.’

  ‘And have been so ever since Gwen mentioned that comic opera.’ He laughed and put his hand under her arm. ‘Well, perhaps it is a little late. Let me escort you to your room, my dear.’

  ‘I have never been to the theatre, you see,’ she confided. ‘We did have travelling players that called at Martlesham when my uncle was alive. I thought their performances quite magical, but I was only a child then, of course. In recent years the only theatricals have taken place during private house parties and Mama deemed them unsuitable for me to attend.’

  ‘Yes, I can believe it.’

  His dry comment reminded her that he had probably been part of those same house parties and she said no more, anxious not to awaken unwelcome memories.

  * * *

  Gideon glanced down at the silent figure beside him as they made the short journey along the passage to her bedchamber. She had discarded her cloak and the ruby satin was almost black in the dim light of the wall candles, throwing into relief the white trimming of the décolletage and the creamy skin rising from it. She had filled out a little since having the baby and this gown showed her curvaceous figure to advantage.

  When they stopped at her door he paused. He wanted to drop his head and kiss her neck, run his mouth along the fragile line of her collarbone until he reached that fascinating indentation at the base of her throat, to touch his lips to the little pulse that beat just beneath her ear. Desire burned within him—it was so long since he had lain with her, tasted the sweet fragrance of her skin, buried his face in her hair.

  She was looking up at him now, her eyes inviting, trusting him. Mentally he drew back. She was too precious. He would not risk weakening her with another baby so soon.

  It does not need to result in a child.

  The thought flashed through his brain, but it was closely followed by his father’s warning. A wife was a delicate creature, to be nurtured, protected. Not for them the carnal lusts of the body.

  ‘Gideon?’ She spoke softly, putting her hand up to his cheek. ‘Gideon, will you not come in...?’

  He reached up and caught her hand, planting a kiss in the palm.

  ‘Not tonight, my dear.’

  * * *

  Dominique watched him stride away into the darkness. She was sure she had seen desire in his eyes, certain he had been moments away from sweeping her into his arms. She clasped her hands together. Oh, how she wanted him to carry her to the bed and cover her body with kisses! She went into her bedroom and looked at herself in the mirror. What had Gwen called her? Voluptuous. Yes, it was true and Gideon had been tempted, but not enough. Not enough.

  * * *

  In Drury Lane the crowds jostled outside the theatre and inside everything was colourful and noisy and chaotic. Dominique clung to Gideon’s arm as they made their way through the press of bodies.

  ‘Wasn’t Cecil clever, to get us such an advantageous box?’ declared Gwen, when they took their seats. ‘No, truly,’ she continued, when Mr Hatfield modestly demurred. ‘I had thought there was no possibility of finding a ticket for this performance. I am sure we are all very grateful.’

  Dominique agreed. They had dined at Grosvenor Square with Gwen and Lord and Lady Grayson and she had been a little apprehensive when Cecil Hatfield arrived, but since Gideon was perfectly polite to him she had soon relaxed. Their box commanded a good view of the stage and while they waited for the performance to begin she gazed around the auditorium, watching with interest as the audience poured in. Fashionable gentlemen and painted la
dies jostled with apprentices in the pit, shadowy figures moved around in the upper gallery and the boxes were filling up, the lamplight sparkling and flashing off the jewels displayed by the ladies who were taking their seats. Max was standing at the front of a box opposite, but she ignored his exaggerated bow and took care not to look his way again, determined not to allow him to spoil her enjoyment of the evening.

  The lights dimmed ready for the short farce that preceded the main event and Dominique gave herself up to the performance, applauding with enthusiasm when it ended. Lord Grayson took his wife off to spend the interval strolling in the foyer and Gideon slipped into the empty seat beside Dominique.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’

  ‘Oh, Gideon I am enjoying myself immensely,’ she told him, reaching impulsively for his hand.

  Gwendoline laughed. ‘Then you have obviously been starved of entertainment, my dear! That was quite the poorest play I have seen in seasons. I am sure I have heard most of it a hundred times before.’ She put her hand on Mr Hatfield’s sleeve. ‘What thought you, Cecil?’

  ‘I, madam? Why, I saw very little of the farce, my attention was upon something quite different.’

  He leaned closer to Gwen, laughing down at her in an intimate fashion that made Dominique uncomfortable. Her eyes quickly went to Gideon and she saw him frown.

  He rose from his seat, saying curtly, ‘Hatfield, perhaps you and I should—’

  Whatever Gideon was going to suggest she would never know, for at that moment the door of the box opened and the tall, lean figure of Lord Ribblestone appeared.

  ‘Good evening. I hope I am not de trop?’

  * * *

  The way Gwen and Mr Hatfield jumped apart reminded Dominique forcibly of the farce she had just seen, but she did not find it in the least amusing.

  ‘Anthony!’ Gwen began to fan herself nervously. ‘I—I did not expect—that is...’

  ‘I left a message that I should conclude my business in time to escort you here, did I not, my love? I would you had waited for me.’

  As Lord Ribblestone came further into the box, Mr Hatfield edged himself to the door and, muttering something about seeing an acquaintance in the pit, he disappeared. Recovering her composure, Gwen tossed her head.

  ‘You are so notoriously unreliable, Anthony, I did not want to risk our being late and missing the farce. It is Dominique’s first visit to the theatre, you see.’

  ‘Ah, of course. Now I understand.’ Lord Ribblestone smiled at Dominique, who fidgeted uncomfortably.

  She was aware of the tension between Anthony and his wife and was relieved to feel Gideon’s hand on her shoulder.

  ‘My love, no visit to the theatre is complete without promenading through the foyer. It will be a crush, but it is something you should do, at least once.’

  Gratefully she accompanied Gideon from the box.

  ‘We are best out of the way,’ he told her as he shut the door behind them. ‘They can talk more freely if they are alone.’

  ‘I do hope they will not fight.’

  ‘I wish they would,’ muttered Gideon as he led her away. ‘Tony is far too complacent for my liking. He could put an end to Gwen’s little flirtations, if he would.’

  Dominique frowned.

  ‘Perhaps he does not care for her.’

  ‘Of course he does,’ replied Gideon. ‘He is as mad as fire, did you not see it?’

  ‘I felt it,’ she affirmed. ‘But I thought I might be mistaken. And—and does Gwen care for him?’

  ‘Aye. Why else would she set up all these flirts?’

  ‘Perhaps she is lonely. After all, Lord Ribblestone is always busy with his politics.’

  ‘Well, she needs to tell him. A little plain speaking would sort the matter out.’

  Dominique was silent. She knew only too well how difficult it was to speak plainly about intimate matters with a man who hid himself behind a wall of politeness.

  * * *

  As Gideon had predicted, the foyer was crowded and with her diminutive height Dominique found the experience suffocating. It was almost impossible to see beyond the bodies immediately around her and she was about to ask Gideon to take her back when she saw Lord Martlesham’s fair head approaching. Her grip on Gideon’s arm tightened.

  ‘It is my cousin. Must we meet him?’

  But Gideon did not reply. He was staring at the dazzling beauty on Max’s arm.

  ‘Good evening, Cousin.’ The earl bowed, smiling. ‘You know Mrs Bennet, of course, Albury. Mrs Agnes Bennet?’

  Chapter Fifteen

  If Dominique had not been holding on to Gideon’s arm she would have collapsed, for her knees suddenly felt very weak. She was at last face-to-face with the woman Gideon had expected to marry.

  In those months leading up to the wedding Dominique had avoided the woman pretending to be Max’s cousin, but now there was no escape and she forced herself to acknowledge every detail of the beauty who had stolen Gideon’s heart. Agnes Bennet was tall, full-figured and as fair as Dominique was dark. Her golden curls clustered around her head and the whiteness of those smooth bare shoulders made Dominique very aware of the olive tint to her own skin. She hoped her face did not give her away, for Max was watching her carefully.

  ‘Ah, I was forgetting,’ he said smoothly, ‘you did not meet Mrs Bennet, did you, Cousin?’

  The actress laughed, a dark, smoky sound that Dominique thought was sinfully seductive.

  ‘Of course I’m not really Mrs Bennet, as Mr Albury knows.’ Her blue eyes were fixed upon Gideon. ‘That is merely a convention for the stage—I am not married.’

  Beneath the sleeve, Gideon’s arm was hard as steel.

  ‘I believe it is time we returned to our seats.’ His voice was icy, and with barely a nod towards the earl he turned and walked away, Dominique almost running to keep up with him.

  * * *

  Damn Max, trying to stir up trouble!

  Gideon fought to control his anger as he pushed his way back through the crowd. He should have expected something of the sort. He had spotted Max in the box on the far side of the auditorium, but in the dim light he had not recognised his companions.

  ‘Gideon, please!’

  Dominique’s urgent entreaty pierced the red mist that enveloped him and he slowed.

  ‘I beg your pardon.’ She was looking up at him, her eyes dark with apprehension, and he muttered through clenched teeth, ‘How dare he try to introduce that woman to you!’

  ‘Max likes to make mischief. We should ignore him.’

  ‘You are right, of course.’ Gideon struggled for composure. ‘Come, let us go back to the box. I hope Ribblestone has not murdered Gwen, or Hatfield...or both!’

  She rewarded his attempt at levity with a strained smile. When they reached their box Hatfield was standing outside the door.

  ‘Ah, glad you are back, Albury. Didn’t like to go in on my own, don’t you know.’ He grimaced. ‘Dashed awkward, Ribblestone turning up like that.’

  Gideon raised his brows.

  ‘Why should that be?’ He added, with barely disguised menace, ‘Unless you were intent upon some impropriety with my sister—’

  ‘Oh, no, no, nothing like that. I am at Lady Ribblestone’s service, of course. Pleasure to be her escort, but nothing more than that, I assure you!’

  ‘Well don’t act so damned guilty, then.’ Gideon opened the door and stood back to let Dominique enter before him. He waved Hatfield in, but as the man passed he caught his arm.

  ‘Just how did you secure this box at such short notice?’

  Hatfield was watching Lord Ribblestone, trying to discern his mood, and he answered distractedly, ‘Martlesham gave it to me. Said he had booked it months ago, but that now he was engaged to join another p
arty.’

  So Max had planned this. Gideon felt the slow burn of his anger as he took his seat for the main performance. From his seat he could see only Dominique’s profile, but when Lady Grayson leaned to whisper something in her ear, the smile she gave in return was forced. The incident in the foyer was not forgotten.

  * * *

  The performance ended, but although Dominique applauded heartily she could not recall a single scene. Lord Grayson went off to his club and Lady Grayson, oblivious of the tensions in the box, reminded Gwen that they had planned to go on to the rout at Baverstock House.

  ‘We shall be there in time for supper, is that not what you said, Mr Hatfield?’ Lady Grayson fixed the gentleman with an enquiring gaze and he floundered hopelessly, unwilling to commit himself.

  Lord Ribblestone took out his snuffbox.

  ‘I have ordered the carriage to be waiting and I intend to return to Grosvenor Square.’ He looked towards his wife. ‘Will you come with me, madam?’

  Dominique held her breath, willing Gwendoline to go home with her husband.

  ‘But I am pledged to go to the rout,’ said Gwen, tossing her head.

  For a long moment no one stirred. The atmosphere was brittle as glass. Lord Ribblestone put away his snuffbox and Dominique thought she saw the veriest tightening of his mouth.

  ‘As you will, my dear.’

  He departed and Mr Hatfield gave an audible sigh of relief. Gwen did not look very happy with her victory and impulsively Dominique touched her arm.

  ‘Let Gideon run after Anthony and tell him that you have changed your mind.’

  ‘But I have not,’ protested Gwendoline, shaking off her hand. ‘La, that I should forgo a party of pleasure to sit at home! If you are ready, Lady Grayson, Mr Hatfield, let us be off to the rout.’

  * * *

  ‘Shall we go home, my dear?’

  Gideon placed her cloak about her shoulders and Dominique immediately forgot Gwen’s troubles as his hands lingered for a moment, their warmth seeping through the silk and into her skin. The meeting with Max and Agnes Bennet had dominated her thoughts since the interval. Gideon’s face was a polite mask, but she had no doubt that he, too, was thinking of it. Dominique understood only too clearly why Gideon had wanted to marry the actress. She was everything that Dominique was not—tall, fair and beautiful—and no doubt well versed in the art of pleasing a man.