Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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yes, that is very likely! You met with the woman you love, the woman you wanted to wed, for my benefit!’ She dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘You should never have continued with the marriage, Gideon.’

      ‘I had to, after what happened on our wedding night.’

      Even as the words left his mouth Gideon realised his mistake. He saw the misery flash across her face and reached out for her.

      ‘Dominique, I did not mean—’

      She pushed him away.

      ‘Oh, I know very well what you mean. You cannot forget that I am half French, can you? You abhor that part of me, even though you might desire my body. But that is how men are, is it not? They c-cannot resist the temptations of the flesh. Our marriage has never been anything more for you than a shackle, a yoke that you do not want.’

      ‘No!’

      ‘You were too honourable to put me away quietly.’ She continued as if he had not spoken. ‘But how I wish you had done so, for it would have been better than this!’ She took a deep, steadying breath before saying icily, ‘You need have no fear, sir. I know what is expected of me. You will want more children, of course, but pray give me a little time to become a-accustomed to your, your diversions before you demand that I resume my role as your wife.’ She shuddered. ‘And do not expect me to take any joy in it. You have killed that. I cannot love a man who thinks so little of me.’

      Stunned, he remained rooted to the spot while she whisked herself away and into her room. He heard the key grate in the lock, and the heart-rending sound of her muffled sobs from the other side of the door.

      Her last words lodged in his heart like a knife. He raised his arm to knock on the door, but realised the futility of it. Slowly he made his way back to the empty drawing room, where he sank down in a chair and stared blankly before him.

      * * *

      How long he remained there he had no idea, an hour, maybe two. He heard the door open and looked around as Gwendoline and Anthony entered, hand in hand. He scowled at his sister, who looked unaccountably cheerful. Gideon realised Anthony was regarding him and he raised his head, saying bitterly, ‘You were right, Anthony. I should have told her I was meeting Mrs Bennet.’

      ‘You explained to her the circumstances?’ said Anthony, holding up a hand to silence Gwen’s questions.

      ‘I tried, but she will not listen. All she can see is that I broke my word. She thinks I see our marriage as a burden.’

      ‘And is it?’ asked Anthony quietly.

      Gideon dropped his head in his hands

      ‘At the beginning it was...difficult. But now—’ He took a breath, facing the truth. ‘Now, I cannot contemplate living without her.’

      ‘Oh, Gideon—!’

      Gwen’s sympathetic utterance was cut short as the door opened again and the viscount came in. Lord Rotham nodded to his daughter and son-in-law and addressed Gideon.

      ‘Ah, my boy. I was informed that you had arrived.’

      ‘As you see, Father.’ Gideon rose, nodding at the lawyer following his father into the room. ‘Mr Rogers. I called at your offices yesterday, but you were already on your way here. Before you go back to town, I would be obliged if you would see Mrs Rainault and ask her to appoint you to act on her behalf, then you must call upon Coutts, the bankers in the Strand. They are holding a considerable sum of money for her, including a dowry for my wife.’

      ‘A dowry!’ declared Gwen. ‘But why? How—?’

      ‘Martlesham,’ said Gideon shortly. ‘Jerome Rainault sent letters to the old earl, instructing him to hold his fortune in trust for his family. Max was planning to keep it for himself.’

      ‘Rogers will, of course, carry out your instructions, my son.’ The viscount moved to his usual seat beside the fire. ‘But first he has some news for you.’

      * * *

      So Jerome Rainault is alive,’ said Gideon, when everything had been explained.

      ‘We believe so,’ said the lawyer. ‘Lord Rotham hopes to get him to England very soon.’

      ‘How?’ asked Gideon, frowning. ‘Bonaparte will not want to let him go.’

      Lord Rotham nodded.

      ‘You are right, it must be done carefully. I am sending a courier tonight.’

      ‘I will go.’ Gideon’s announcement was met with silence.

      ‘Out of the question,’ said the viscount at last. ‘It is far too dangerous.’

      ‘Rainault is my father-in-law. Who else should go?’

      ‘Anyone,’ cried Gwen, her face pale. ‘How can you even think of it, knowing what happened to James—?’

      ‘Precisely because of what happened to James,’ replied Gideon. ‘My brother was heir to Rotham. I should have been the one to go to Paris all those years ago.’

      ‘No,’ said Lord Rotham. ‘I ordered you both to remain in England. James disobeyed me.’ He sighed. ‘He was as stubborn and hot-headed as the rest of the Alburys, in his own way.’

      Gideon met his father’s eyes steadily. ‘I have to do this, sir, if only to show my wife that I do not have an implacable hatred for all Frenchmen.’

      ‘No, you cannot go.’ Gwen jumped up from her seat and ran to Gideon. ‘Think, my dear. You are heir to Rotham now.’

      His mouth twisted into a wry smile.

      ‘And my heir is presently sleeping in his crib upstairs, so the succession is safe.’

      Gwen gave a little huff of impatience and turned to her husband.

      ‘Ribblestone, pray tell him he must not do it.’

      ‘I will,’ said Anthony. ‘Not for the reasons you have given, but because from today the difficulties of getting anyone in or out of France are increased a hundredfold.’ He surveyed the company for a moment. ‘It can make no odds if I tell you now, for you will learn of it in tomorrow’s newspapers. We have today declared war on France.’

      After a moment’s horrified silence, Gideon shook his head.

      ‘It makes no odds. I am still going.’

      * * *

      The argument raged on, but at length Gideon convinced them all that he would not be moved and suggested to his father they should discuss how it was to be done. Mr Rogers rose.

      ‘My work is finished here, my lord, so if you will excuse me I shall visit Mrs Rainault and advise her of the news.’

      Ribblestone took out his watch, ‘And we can do no more good here, so we will go to Fairlawns.’

      With a bow he ushered his wife to the door.

      ‘Ribblestone!’

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