Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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have made it up. How did you do it?’

      Ribblestone regarded him for a moment, a faint smile touching his lips.

      ‘Well, if you want the truth—and begging your pardon, Lord Rotham—I gave her a damn good spanking!’

      With that, and another slight bow, he went out and shut the door.

      * * *

      By the time Gideon accompanied his father into dinner their plans had been made. Only two places were set, Colne informing them that Mr Rogers had departed to catch the night mail and Mrs Albury had requested a tray to be sent up to her room. As soon as they were alone, Gideon explained about his meetings with Agnes Bennet.

      ‘I should have told Dominique about it immediately, Father. It was a serious misjudgement.’

      ‘We are both guilty of that where your wife is concerned,’ replied Lord Rotham, sadly. ‘Your mother was never strong and I should have taken better care of her, but my mistake was to persuade you that all ladies were so delicate. When you brought Dominique to Rotham, she quite stole my heart and I became morbidly anxious for her. If I have somehow caused this estrangement between you, then I am very sorry for it.’

      Gideon listened in silence. It was the first time that his father had ever unbent enough to make an apology and he realised how much it had cost him. He looked up and met the old man’s eyes.

      ‘You are not at fault, Father. I have been a fool, but I shall do better in future, when I get back from France.’

      If I get back.

      The words hung between them, unspoken, but Gideon knew that they both silently acknowledged the risks.

      * * *

      They had not quite finished their port when Colne announced another visitor.

      ‘I have shown him into the study, my lord, as you instructed.’

      ‘My original courier,’ explained the viscount as the butler withdrew. ‘He will accompany you as far as the coast, but after that you will travel alone until you meet up with your contact in Paris. How is your French?’

      ‘A little rusty, but it will suffice. Come, let us get this over.’

      * * *

      An hour later Gideon went to his room to change for his journey. Once he was ready he walked to the connecting door that led to Dominique’s bedchamber and after the briefest of knocks he walked in. She was standing before the fire, rocking the baby in her arms and crooning a lullaby.

      Gideon glanced at the waiting servant. ‘Please leave us.’

      The nursemaid hesitated, glancing uncertainly at her mistress. Dominique handed her the baby.

      ‘Take little James back to the nursery, if you please. I shall come to him later.’

      Her tone was gentle, but as soon as they were alone she regarded Gideon with a stony glare, anger emanating from every rigid line of her body.

      ‘What do you want?’

      ‘To talk to you.’

      ‘There is nothing to say.’ She turned her back on him. ‘Please leave me.’

      ‘I am leaving. I am going away. Tonight.’

      ‘Good.’

      Her hands were clasped around the bedpost, as if to support herself. Gideon continued quietly, ‘Agnes found proof that Max was holding your father’s fortune. I wanted to make sure it was true, that I could secure the money for you and your mother before I told you. I was wrong to keep it from you. I beg your pardon for that.’ There was no reaction, no movement at all from the silent figure before him. ‘I am going to France, to find your father and bring him back. Perhaps that will prove to you that I don’t hate you, or your French blood.’ He stopped. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, exhaling slowly. ‘No, it is more than that. My anger has been misdirected for years. I used it to disguise my hatred of myself. You see, my French was always better than my brother’s. I might have survived.’ He rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘There is not a day goes by that I do not wish I had disobeyed my father and gone to France instead of James. I thought Father’s keeping me here was a punishment for allowing James to die—in fact, it was because he was afraid of losing me, too. I understand that now, because I finally know what it is to love someone so much that you cannot bear to contemplate life without them. Dominique, you say you cannot love me. I understand that. I promise you I shall never force my attentions upon you, if they are unwelcome. But I hope, when I return, that we may be able to salvage something from this mess.’ He paused, his eyes fixed on her rigid, unyielding back. ‘Will you not wish me God’s speed?’

      He waited, but when she made no move he turned on his heel and left the room.

      * * *

      Dominique heard the door click shut behind him. Her hands were clenched so tightly around the bedpost that the carvings cut into her skin. She had wanted to run to him, to cast herself on his chest and beg him to be careful, but her anger held her silent and immobile. She could hear his steps in the corridor, that firm, familiar stride, the tap-tap of his boots on the boards, gradually dying away to silence. With a sob she threw herself across the room and wrenched open the door.

      ‘Gideon, wait!’

      She flew along the passage and to the stairs. From the central stairwell she saw only the flapping edge of his greatcoat disappearing into the hall below. Desperately she sped down the remaining stairs. She could hear the rumble of voices and even as she reached the hall she heard the heavy thud of the door being closed.

      ‘Colne, Colne, tell him to wait!’ she called out as she ran. The butler opened the door again as she came up and she dashed past him and out on to the drive.

      The moonlight showed her one figure already mounted, and Gideon with his foot in the stirrup. When he saw her he stepped away from the horse and without pausing she hurled herself at him.

      ‘Oh, Gideon, I am so sorry, so sorry!’ His arms closed around her and she cried into his shoulder. ‘I was so j-jealous when I saw you with her and I quite lost my temper. Please don’t go without saying you forgive me.’

      He gave a shaky laugh.

      ‘There is nothing to forgive, love.’ He put his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. With the moon overhead his face was in shadow, but she could discern the glint of his eyes and it tugged up that now familiar ache of desire deep in her belly. ‘Wait for me.’

      ‘Must you go?’ she murmured between kisses.

      ‘Yes. I have to do this. For you, for Tante and the duc. For James.’

      ‘Not for my sake! Please, I could not bear to lose you now. And no one can blame you for obeying your father.’

      ‘Only me. At the very least I should have gone with James—I can never forgive myself for letting him go to France alone.’

      ‘Then your father might have lost both sons and I would never have known you.’ She cupped his face between her hands and gazed up at him. ‘I love you, Gideon.

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