did not contradict her. After a moment’s tense silence he said, ‘It is not only that. It is a French name.’
‘And—and is that so very bad?’ she asked him.
He hesitated, no longer than a heartbeat, but she noticed it.
‘Yes, my dear. I’m afraid it is.’
He turned towards her, his face polite, smiling, but that shuttered look was in his eyes, telling her he was unreachable.
They retired to their separate rooms that night. Dominique did not sleep, but lay tense and still in the middle of the bed, listening. She convinced herself that she was dreading a soft knock at the door, but when it never came she realised just how disappointed she was. Yet what could she expect? Gideon had never wanted to marry her; he was in love with the actress who had taken her place. So much in love that now he could not even bring himself to use her name.
* * *
At breakfast the following morning Gideon was all consideration. He escorted her to her chair, poured her coffee and helped her to the freshest of the toasted muffins before sitting down to his own meal.
‘You are right,’ he declared. ‘I cannot continue without a name for you.’
She bridled instantly.
‘I have a perfectly good name, thank you.’
‘You have indeed.’ He smiled at her and she found her anger melting away. ‘I have been thinking about it.’
‘You have?’
Had he stayed awake to relive their night together, as she had done? The little flare of hope quickly died.
‘Yes,’ he continued. ‘We could shorten it to Nicky. A pet name, if you like.’
‘My grandfather, the old earl, used to call me that.’
‘There we have it, then. I shall call you Nicky—but only with your permission, of course.’
She gave him a shy smile.
‘I should like that, si—’ She noted his sudden frown and corrected herself. ‘I should like that, Gideon.’
* * *
By the time they reached London Dominique thought they were getting on famously. They laughed at the same things, shared a love of music and poetry, talked for hours, like true friends. But not lovers. Gideon was polite and considerate, but nothing more, and Dominique, afraid to risk the fragile bond between them, lay awake in her lonely bed and ached for him to come to her. It would not do, however, to admit such a longing, so she hid it behind a smile and accepted as much companionship as her husband was willing to give.
Her new home was a neat house in Brook Street, which Gideon informed her belonged to his father.
‘I do have a house of my own I inherited from my godmother, Lady Telford,’ he told Dominique as he helped her out of the chaise. ‘But it is a few miles out of town and so run down that I have never used it.’
‘I think this would be more convenient for you,’ remarked Dominique, looking up at the elegant facade. At that moment the door was thrown open and a liveried servant came out, beaming at them.
‘Master Gideon, welcome home, sir!’
‘Thank you. My dear, this is Judd, who has known me since I was a babe, which means he takes the greatest liberties.’
The old man chuckled in a fatherly way.
‘Now then, Master Gideon, you don’t want to be telling Mrs Albury such tales. Welcome to you, mistress. Mrs Wilkins is waiting inside and will show you over the house.’
‘Perhaps she will begin by showing Mrs Albury to her bedchamber,’ suggested Gideon, taking her arm and leading her into the narrow hall. ‘We have had a long journey and I am sure my wife would like to rest before dinner.’
‘Aye, of course, I will do that, Master Gideon.’ A plump, rosy-cheeked woman in a black-stuff gown and snowy apron bustled forwards and dropped a curtsy. ‘If Mrs Albury would like to come with me, there is hot water already on the washstands and I will send Kitty up to help you dress. She is only the second housemaid, but she’s a good girl and has ambition to be a lady’s maid, but if she don’t suit we will send to the registry office for someone else.’
‘I shall be delighted to see how she goes on,’ said Dominique quickly.
‘Very good, madam. Now, which of these trunks is yours, and we’ll have them taken up immediately.’
‘Only one.’ They had brought only the trunk Max had sent with her to Elmwood and now Dominique met Gideon’s eyes in a mute appeal.
‘My wife is to have everything new, as befits a future viscountess,’ he said coolly. ‘She will manage with what is in the trunk and tomorrow we will set about replenishing her wardrobe.’
The housekeeper looked a little shocked.
‘Very well, sir. If you would care to come with me, ma’am, I’ll show you to your room and we’ll unpack that single trunk of yours and see what there is for you to wear tonight...’
Taking a mental review of the items she had seen in the trunk, Dominique hastily declined the offer.
‘You have more than enough to do, Mrs Wilkins,’ she said. ‘I am sure the maid you have found for me will be able to help.’
* * *
When Dominique came downstairs for dinner she was wearing one of the muslin gowns from the trunk Max had provided. The previous owner of the gown had been somewhat taller than Dominique, but Kitty had proved to be very useful with a needle and had soon taken up the hem. The unknown woman had also been more generously endowed and Dominique had had to cover the extremely low and rather loose décolletage by draping a fine muslin handkerchief across her shoulders, crossing the ends over her bosom and tying them behind her.
When she joined Gideon in the drawing room he raised his brows and she felt obliged to explain.
‘I was delighted to leave off my travelling dress, but the trunk my cousin packed up for me was sadly lacking in suitable clothes. This is the most respectable of the gowns and even this required several petticoats beneath it before I was fit to be seen.’
Gideon raised his quizzing glass and surveyed her. His lips curved into a grin.
‘Yes, I can see that.’
She fingered the skirts, chuckling.
‘It is the finest quality, as is everything in the trunk, but most of it is highly improper. I think it must have been left behind by one of Max’s less-respectable guests. He is forever filling the house with lightskirts and actresses— Oh!’ She stopped, colouring painfully. ‘I—I beg your pardon, I d-did not think...’
The
