She sighed. ‘I know.’
His eyes fell on the table.
‘Shall we sit down?’ He held a chair for her, thinking that they were like two cats, warily circling each other. When they were both seated he filled two glasses and pushed one towards her. ‘Why did you agree to Max’s outlandish scheme? You do not look like the sort to indulge in practical jokes of your own accord.’
‘No.’ She put a small cake on to her plate and broke it into little pieces.
‘Did he offer you money?’
‘Something of that sort.’
‘But you are his cousin.’
‘An impoverished cousin. My mother brought me to England ten years ago, seeking refuge with her brother, the earl—Max’s father. When Max inherited Martlesham he also inherited us. We have been living off charity ever since. A few months ago Max set us up in a cottage in Martlesham village.’ Her fingers played with the crumbs on her plate. ‘He promised... If I agreed to take part in his scheme, he would sign the property over to my mother and give her a pension for the rest of her life.’
‘And for this you would marry a stranger.’
Her head came up at that. She said angrily, ‘Do you know what it is like to be someone’s pensioner? To know that everything you have, every penny you spend, comes from someone else?’
‘As a matter of fact I do, since I am a younger son. For many years I was dependent upon an allowance from my father.’
Their eyes clashed for a moment, then her glance slid away and she continued quietly, ‘Max promised it would only mean going through the ceremony. He said that once the trick was uncovered the marriage would be annulled.’
‘The devil he did!’ Gideon pushed back his chair and went to the window. The darkness outside showed only his scowling reflection. ‘The servants must have known what was going on—that the woman I thought was Martlesham’s cousin was an impostor.’
‘Yes. Max threatened instant dismissal to anyone who did not go along with his deception.’
He turned back to face her.
‘And your mother? Will Max explain everything to her?’
‘I doubt it.’ She bit her lip. ‘Max tends to think only of those things that affect him.’
‘But won’t she worry about you?’
She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap.
‘I wrote a note for her, telling her that I would be remaining at the Abbey for a few days.’
‘And she will be content with that?’
Her head dipped even lower.
‘Maman has her own concerns and will think nothing amiss.’
Gideon finished his wine and poured himself another glass. Dominique—he almost winced. He must get used to calling her that. The girl had hardly touched her wine and the cake lay crumbled on her plate. A tiny spark of sympathy touched him.
‘Do not despair,’ he told her. ‘In the morning we will return to Martlesham and I will arrange for an annulment.’
‘And until then?’
Her gaze was sceptical.
‘We are not alone here. Mrs Chiswick is a respectable woman and, when we tell her there has been a mistake she will look after you until we can get you back to Martlesham.’ He tried a reassuring smile. ‘I think she can be relied upon to protect your honour.’
Dominique forced herself to meet his eyes, wondering at the change in tone. It was the first time Gideon Albury had done anything other than glower at her. Oh, he had smiled in the church, but then he had thought her someone else. Now he was smiling at her, plain little Dominique Rainault, and her heart began to thud with a breathless irregularity. Often in the preceding weeks she had dreamed of such a moment, but had never expected it, not after the scene outside the church that morning.
The revulsion she had seen in his face had quite chilled her and since then he had regarded her with nothing but repugnance. She was not prepared for the sudden charm, or the way it made her want to smile right back at him. Common sense urged her to be cautious. Despite the attraction she felt for him he was, after all, one of Max’s cronies, one of that crowd of irresponsible young bucks who were more than happy to play cruel jokes upon one another. Just because he was the victim of this particular jape did not mean she could trust him.
* * *
There was a light scratching on the door, and the housekeeper peeped in.
‘Beggin’ your pardon sir, madam, but I was wondering if you would be wishing to change before dinner? The bedchamber’s not prepared yet, but your trunks have been taken up to the dressing room and there is a good fire burning in there...’
Gideon shook his head.
‘I will not change, but perhaps Mrs Albury would like to make use of it?’
‘Yes, thank you, I would like to wash my face and hands.’ Dominique made for the door, thankful for the opportunity to gather her thoughts. Unfortunately, the housekeeper was eager to talk as she escorted her up the stairs.
‘I haven’t had a chance to make up the bed, ma’am, for Alice hasn’t come yet so I’ve only got Hannah, the scullery maid, to help me and I can’t trust her to look after the kitchen, but I shall get around to that just as soon as I have finished cooking dinner. If only we’d had more notice, we would have been able to give you a welcome more suited to a new bride, but there, Mr Carstairs has never been one to give us much warning.’ The woman gave a wheezy laugh as she opened the door to the dressing room. ‘I’ve no doubt he’ll descend upon us one day with a bride of his own, and never a bit o’ notice of that, either!’
Dominique knew this was her opportunity.
‘Mrs Chiswick, could you have another bed made up for me, if you please, in a separate chamber?’
The housekeeper gave a fat chuckle as she went around the room lighting the candles.
‘Lord bless you, dearie, you won’t be needing that tonight.’
‘But I shall. You see, this is all a mistake, I never intended—’
Dominique found her hands caught in a warm clasp.
‘Now, now, my love, you ain’t the first young bride to have last-minute nerves. Do you not know what to expect on your wedding night?’
‘Well, yes, but that’s not it...’
‘Now don’t you be worrying yourself, my dear, I’ve been with Mr Chiswick for nigh on thirty years and I can tell you that you have nought to worry about, especially with a kind young man like Mr Albury. He’s always been a favourite here at Elmfield, more so than many of Mr Carstairs’s friends, I can tell you. But there, it’s not for me to criticise the master. Anyway I’m sure Mr Albury
