Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

      ‘I can never see enough of my little nephew,’ Gwen explained as they enjoyed a glass of ratafia in the morning room after visiting the nursery. ‘I sometimes wish that we had more than just the two boys.’ She looked a little wistful, but the next moment the shadow was gone and she said brightly, ‘And how do you like Chalcots? Is it not too far from all the amusements?’

      ‘Oh, no, it is but a half-hour carriage ride to town and it is far better for the baby to be away from the dirt and smoke of London.’

      Gwen’s eyes lifted to the mantelpiece.

      ‘I see you have an invitation to Grayson House tonight. Do say you will be there, Lady Grayson’s soirées are always delightful.’

      ‘Is Ribblestone going with you?’

      Gwen avoided her eyes. ‘Oh, he will be at the House,’ she said airily. ‘Cecil Hatfield is escorting me.’

      ‘Really? I thought Sir Desmond Arndale—’

      She was interrupted by Gwen’s brittle laugh.

      ‘Heavens, I have no particular gentleman friend. Goodness me, Dominique, that would set tongues wagging.’

      Dominique was tempted to say that tongues already wagged, but she stayed silent.

      ‘And talking of gentlemen,’ Gwen continued, ‘where is Gideon today?’

      ‘He has gone to see Mr Rogers, to discuss business.’

      ‘I must say I was pleased to see Gideon and Papa getting on so well at Christmas. I am glad they have put their differences behind them.’

      ‘Yes, we shall be spending more time at Rotham in future, I think. Gideon is taking much more interest in the estate.’

      ‘And so he should,’ declared Gwen. ‘It is his inheritance—oh, I know he has always felt a little awkward, stepping into his brother’s shoes, but nothing can bring James back.’

      ‘Your father has given him several commissions in town to carry out,’ said Dominique. She added, unable to keep the slight quaver from her voice, ‘Lord Rotham has also written to many of his old friends—in France and in England. Friends who may be able to help us find news of Papa.’

      ‘My dear, that is wonderful,’ cried Gwen, reaching out to take her hand.

      ‘It is not just that we might at last find out the truth,’ replied Dominique, wiping her eyes. ‘It is that Lord Rotham and Gideon should be p-prepared to help.’

      ‘Yes, that is quite extraordinary,’ Gwen admitted. ‘We were all devastated when James was killed, but Gideon took it very hard indeed. It was as much as we could do to prevent him posting off to France immediately to seek justice—not that there was any justice to be had, as we discovered when Tante and the duc were executed. Papa was even more determined that Gideon should remain at Rotham after that, and I think he would be there still, if his godmama’s legacy had not given him a measure of independence. But poor Papa, I thought he would never recover from the blow of losing his son and his sister to the Terror. He has been a recluse ever since—until you came to Rotham, my dear. Such changes you have wrought there! I truly believe you have helped Gideon and my father to come to terms with the past. Anthony declares you have worked a miracle!’

      Dominique accepted the tribute with a smile, but when she thought of lying alone in her bed every night, she knew there was one miracle it was beyond her power to work.

       Chapter Fourteen

      The Alburys set out in good time for Lady Grayson’s soirée, their carriage bowling swiftly through the darkness.

      ‘If you had known how long your business would take, you could have dined in town and met me there,’ remarked Dominique.

      Gideon pressed a kiss upon her fingers.

      ‘But I prefer to dine at home with my wife.’

      A little bolt of pleasure drove its way through Dominique and she leaned closer, hoping for a more intimate embrace. When it did not come she stifled her sigh and asked him in cheerful tones, ‘And was your business in town successful?’

      ‘I believe so. I delivered Father’s letters and every one of the fellows declared they would do their best to help.’ He squeezed her hand, adding gently, ‘That is not to say it will be good news, Dominique.’

      ‘No, Mama and I are both aware that Papa could be—that he might not be alive, but just to know the truth would help. We are very grateful, Gideon, to you and Lord Rotham.’

      ‘Yes, well...’ He cleared his throat and after an awkward pause he continued in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘Rogers and I had a good meeting, too. We decided that the town house should be shut up for the present. I think if Father ever came to town he would prefer to stay with us. What do you think?’

      ‘Lord Rotham would be very welcome at Chalcots, so I agree we do not need the Brook Street house,’ she replied, gratified that he should ask her opinion. ‘Perhaps it might be let out and the staff retained?’

      ‘Yes, that is an idea. And a good one, too. I shall suggest it to Father when I write next.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘Ah, we are here. Come along, my dear.’

      * * *

      Grayson House was packed that evening. The hall and stairs were crowded with guests, the ladies’ pale gowns a vivid contrast to the gentlemen’s dark coats. Dominique took off her fur-lined cloak to display her own low-cut, high-waisted gown of ruby satin, the hem fringed with gold and worn over a white satin petticoat with tiny puff sleeves and a quantity of fine lace covering the low neckline. Now, as she prepared to accompany Gideon up the sweeping staircase, Dominique wondered if such a strong colour was a mistake, but at that moment Gwendoline appeared and put all her doubts to flight.

      ‘My dear, you look positively dazzling in that gown! I knew we were right to put you in bold colours.’ Regardless of the watching crowd, Gwen enveloped her in a scented hug, murmuring wickedly, ‘And your figure is so much better since having little James. You are positively voluptuous, my dear!’

      Dominique laughed and blushed at the same time, and when she emerged from Gwen’s embrace she found Gideon smiling and holding out his arm to her.

      ‘Time we met our hostess, don’t you think?’

      Happily she accompanied him up the sweeping staircase.

      ‘I did not see the man escorting Gwen—’ She looked back. ‘Ah, there he is with her now...Mr Hatfield. Do you know him, Gideon?’

      He glanced briefly down into the hall.

      ‘Hatfield? Yes, I know him.’

      She was quick to detect the note of reserve in his voice.

      ‘You do not like him?’

      ‘Not particularly. He is a crony of Martlesham’s and a womaniser.’

      ‘Oh. Then should Gwen—perhaps we should warn her.’

      ‘My sister knows what she is about and is using Hatfield for her own purposes—I think she is trying to make Ribblestone jealous.’

      Dominique looked again into the hall, where Gwendoline was now hanging on the arm of the rather louche figure that was Mr Cecil Hatfield.

      ‘Will it work, do you think?’

      Gideon shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I have warned Gwen against pushing Anthony too far. He is an easy-going fellow, but he has his limits. As have I. Let me warn you, madam, that I should not tolerate you flirting with such a man.’

      ‘Would you not?’ She saw the dangerous gleam in his eyes and suddenly found it difficult to breathe. ‘What—what would you do, Gideon?’

      She