Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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.’

      The sneer in his voice was unmistakable. Dominique stiffened and opened her mouth to respond, but Gideon caught her eye and gave the slightest shake of his head.

      ‘I shall of course do my best to assist Mrs Rainault,’ he said evenly. ‘Now we have signed the Treaty of Amiens I am sure there is a much greater chance of success.’

      ‘Fustian,’ Max retorted. ‘Jerome Rainault’s been dead these ten years. You of all people should know what savages the French are.’

      Dominique flinched, but Gideon’s smile did not falter. If anything, it grew as his eyes flickered in her direction.

      ‘Not all of them.’

      Max frowned, but after a moment he sat back in his chair, his brow clearing, and he addressed Dominique with at least a semblance of friendliness, ‘So, how do you go on, Cousin? How do you like London?’

      ‘Very much.’ Dominique took her lead from Gideon and kept her tone light. ‘I have made so many friends here. Everyone is very kind.’

      ‘Well, perhaps they don’t know—’

      ‘Oh, everyone knows the circumstances of our marriage,’ Gideon interrupted him, his voice dangerously quiet. ‘The society columns of the news-sheets carried little else for weeks after we arrived. They were very well informed.’

      A cruel smile curled Max’s mouth.

      ‘Were they, indeed? I wonder how that occurred.’

      ‘Some malicious troublemaker,’ replied Gideon. ‘But their efforts were wasted. We have shown everyone that we are the epitome of domestic bliss. And you will be pleased to know my wife is becoming a firm favourite with all the hostesses. Ask anyone in town.’ He smiled. ‘But what are we thinking of? Perhaps you would like to take a glass of wine with us, to toast our felicity—’

      ‘Thank you, no.’ Max rose abruptly. ‘I have an engagement to dine with friends.’

      ‘Then Judd will show you out,’ murmured Dominique, moving over to the bell pull. Max followed and took her hand.

      ‘Accept my felicitations, Cousin. I am...pleased...to see you so comfortable.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘And I have to thank you, too, Max,’ said Gideon pleasantly. ‘You have provided me with a perfect wife. Who could ever have thought things would work out so well?’

      Without a word the earl gave another clipped bow and left the room.

      Gideon smiled.

      ‘I think we have done well, there, my sweet. Your dear cousin is not at all happy that his plans have misfired so spectacularly.’

      She said slowly, ‘We have made a fool of him, Gideon. He will not like that.’

      ‘No, but he cannot alter it, so if he has any sense he will shrug and accept the situation.’ Gideon glanced at the clock. ‘I suppose we must change for dinner. We are engaged to join some card party tonight, are we not?’

      ‘Yes, Lady Torrington’s,’ she said absently. ‘Gideon—what you said, about helping Maman...would you mind if I tried to discover something about Papa? I was afraid to mention it before...’

      He put his fingers under her chin.

      ‘My dear, you should not be afraid to ask anything of me.’

      His tone was light, but the warmth she had seen in his eyes earlier had disappeared.

      ‘Are you angry with me, Gideon, because I want to find my father?’ she challenged him. ‘I cannot stop loving him, just because you have cause to hate all Girondins.’

      His hand dropped.

      ‘Who told you that?’

      ‘Gwendoline. She—she told me about your aunt and uncle. And your brother.’

      ‘Then you know my hatred is well founded.’

      ‘But if you knew Papa—’

      ‘I have no wish to know him,’ he snapped. ‘He was part of the regime which caused the death of three people very dear to me. That I can never forgive.’

      ‘As you can never forgive me for being his daughter.’

      There, she had said it. Dominique trembled at her own temerity. The colour drained from his face and his mouth became a thin line as he held back his anger. He turned away and walked to the fireplace where he stood with his back to her, staring down into the flames.

      ‘I have tried to forget it, these past few weeks,’ he said at last. ‘But it is always there, a ghost between us.’

      She walked up to him and put her hand on his