woke up when the fire was dying down and the night air cooling her skin. She lifted one hand to her head, trying to make sense of where she was and what had happened. She remembered dining with Gideon, then arguing with him and finally, when he had laid hands on her—understandably, since she was trying to stab him—she had wanted nothing more than to cling on to him forever. It was as if she had been possessed, filled with desire that must be satisfied. She ran a hand over her body. It felt no different, yet everything had changed. She was no longer a virgin.
She tried to examine her feelings about that and about the naked man sleeping beside her. She felt numb. It was as if there was some great unhappy void ahead of her that she dare not face just yet. Perhaps in the morning she would be able to make sense of it all. For now her main concern was to get warm. She slid between the covers. The hot bricks so thoughtfully supplied were gone. They had fallen out on to the floor at some point, unnoticed, and the sheets were cold.
Her movements disturbed Gideon and he followed her under the covers, silently pulling her close. She could not deny the comfort of his warm limbs wrapped around her. Nothing mattered when she was in his arms. Tomorrow. She would think about it all tomorrow. She closed her eyes and, as she was drifting away into sleep, she felt his breath against her cheek, heard him whisper one word.
‘Dominique.’
The early morning sunshine was just peeping into the bedchamber when Dominique opened her eyes again. She was alone in the canopied bed. Soon she would have to get up and face the day—and Gideon—but for now she lay very still and allowed the memories to flood back. Perhaps she had been wrong to agree to her cousin’s plan, but if it had secured her mother’s independence then she could not regret it.
And her night of passion with Gideon? She would regret that, she was sure, but it had been inevitable. From the first moment she had peered through the thick wedding veil and seen him standing at the altar, tall and athletic, with the bars of sunlight from the windows striking red-gold sparks from his auburn hair, she was lost. Her heart had turned over and, oh, how she had wished that his smiles had really been for her and not for the person he thought her to be.
His anger, when he discovered the deception, had been monumental, but she could forgive that—as she would have forgiven him if he had taken her in anger, forced himself upon her. After all, what rights did she have now, as his wife? But she truly believed he had planned to protect her. If she had not been so obstinate, they might well have spent their wedding night in separate rooms, emerging chaste and unsullied this morning. But his autocratic behaviour had angered her and she had a temper equal to his own. Over the years she had learned to keep it in check, except in the most trying circumstances, and there could be no denying that yesterday had been extremely trying.
Once she had lost her temper there had been no way of regaining it again and when Gideon had kissed her she had reacted instinctively, taking her opportunity to possess him, if only for one night. She had given in to pure, wanton lust and now she must pay for it.
* * *
Dressing took some time. Clothing was scattered across the room—one stocking was dangling from the handle of the linen press and her garters had disappeared completely. She rummaged through the trunk that Max had supplied, but soon realised that her cousin’s cruel sense of humour was present even here. The diaphanous nightwear and flimsy muslin gowns were more suited to a courtesan and had probably been left at Martlesham by one of Max’s numerous lovers. She would have to wear her walking dress again.
However, she found in the trunk a clean chemise of the very finest snow-white linen and a pair of silk garters to replace her own embroidered ones. She considered cutting off the gold tassels from the garters, but in the end decided to leave them. After all, no one would see them under her skirts—unless Gideon wished to repeat last night’s passionate encounter.
Oh, if only he would! A delicious curl of desire clenched her stomach and left an ache between her thighs as she remembered how it had felt to be in his arms, to have him love her.
Love. How could it be love? Gideon had no reason to think well of her. And for herself, she had watched him courting the actress, but had never spoken to him before yesterday. It could only be a savage, primitive animal attraction, acceptable in a man, but not at all the sort of thing that a respectable young lady would admit.
* * *
Dominique made her way downstairs. She found the housekeeper in the parlour, spreading a cloth over the little table.
‘Good morning, Mrs Albury. I’m setting up breakfast for you here. Mr Albury thought you would prefer that to eating in the dining room, which can be draughty when the wind is in the east, as it is today.’
Dominique nodded absently and asked if she had seen Mr Albury.
‘Aye, madam, he took himself off for a walk about an hour ago, it being such a fine morning. Would you like to break your fast now, madam, or will you wait for your husband to come back?’
‘A little coffee now, if you please. I will take breakfast when my...husband returns.’ She stumbled over the words, but she was glad to have a little longer to compose herself before meeting Gideon again.
* * *
She did not have long to wait. The thud of the front door, footsteps and the rumble of voices in the hall warned her of his arrival. She remained at the table, trying to look calm. He strode into the room, his greatcoat swinging open, his face alight with the effects of fresh air and exercise. He greeted her civilly, but she saw the sparkle fade from his eyes, replaced by a closed and shuttered look. She glanced away, trying not to feel hurt. She gestured to the table.
‘There is coffee here, sir, and it is still warm, if you wish for it.’
‘Thank you, yes. Mrs Chiswick is bringing in a fresh pot, but that might be some time.’
He threw his greatcoat over a chair and came to sit down. Dominique poured coffee into a cup and Gideon accepted it in silence. She wondered if she should say something and was relieved when the bustling entrance of Mrs Chiswick made speech unnecessary, at least for a while. They managed to get through breakfast with mere courtesies, but when the table had been cleared and they were alone again, the silence hung heavily between them.
‘We need to talk,’ Gideon said at last.
Dominique looked around her, seeking an escape from the suddenly oppressive room.
‘It—it is such a lovely morning and I have not yet seen the gardens. Would you mind if we walked outside?’
‘Not at all.’
She picked up her cloak and they made their way to the shrubbery, where the high walls sheltered them from the biting east wind. They walked side by side, taking care they did not brush against each other. So different from last night, thought Dominique, when they could not touch each other enough. It had to be mentioned. She launched into speech.
‘About what happened—’
‘A mistake,’ he interrupted her. ‘And one I deeply regret. I apologise, madam, most humbly.’
She answered him firmly, ‘I am as much to blame as you.’
‘Perhaps,
