Lady Beneath the Veil

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘I am not sure he thinks of it that way,’ replied Dominique, a little wistfully. She led Gwendoline into her room and pointed at the trunk. ‘Everything is in there, save the muslin dress I wear in the evenings, which my maid has put in the linen press.’

  Her sadness gave way to amusement as Lady Ribblestone began to pull out quantities of silk and lace, holding up the items for inspection before throwing them on to the bed. Gwen was not shocked or outraged by the see-through muslins, lacy undergarments or diaphanous nightgowns, she merely chuckled.

  ‘Perhaps not quite suitable for you to wear in public,’ she remarked, holding up a particularly sheer gown, ‘but the lace negligee might be just the sort of thing Gideon would like.’

  Dominique’s face flamed.

  ‘I d-don’t think so.’ She slumped against the edge of the bed, thinking of the chaste peck on the cheek he had given her the previous two evenings, before marching off to his own bedroom. ‘Besides, all these clothes are far too big for me. They might even have been bought for the—the lady Gideon thought he would marry—’

  ‘He told me she was an actress.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you need not call her a lady,’ Gwendoline corrected her, coming to sit beside her. ‘Did you see her?’

  ‘Yes, she is... She has a—a fuller figure.’

  ‘And no doubt will run to fat as she gets older.’

  Dominique giggled. ‘Perhaps. But she is much taller than I am. She is very beautiful, too, and fair.’

  ‘A big, blowsy woman, then,’ said Gwendoline. ‘Not at all the sort to suit Gideon. He is very chivalrous, you know, and will much prefer a wife he can cherish and protect. Once we have bought you a few gowns that are more becoming to your size and figure, I have no doubt he will find you irresistible.’

  Dominique sighed.

  ‘I doubt it. But it is not only that she was so very beautiful. He thought she—that is, he thought I—was English, but I am not. I am half French and I cannot alter that.’

  ‘Ah.’

  Dominique looked uncertainly at her new friend. ‘Why does Gideon dislike the French so much?’

  Gwendoline’s smile disappeared.

  ‘You do not know?’

  ‘No. Will you tell me?’

  Gwendoline hesitated, saying at last, ‘Very well, but not until we have been shopping. My carriage has been standing at the door for far too long. We must leave now, if we are to get anything done today.’ She jumped up. ‘Come along, my dear, put on your bonnet, we are going out.’

  * * *

  To one who had lived very retired for the past ten years, a shopping trip with Lady Ribblestone was a revelation. Dominique soon lost count of the modistes, milliners, bazaars and warehouses they visited. Gwendoline sailed through the establishments, setting everyone running to do her bidding.

  * * *

  By the time they returned to Brook Street an alarming number of orders had been placed and an even more alarming number of packages and bandboxes filled the carriage.

  ‘I think we have done very well for the first day,’ remarked Gwendoline, reviewing their purchases.

  ‘First day!’ Dominique laughed. ‘I do not think I have ever had so many new things in my life.’

  ‘Well, you came to town with nothing,’ reasoned Gwendoline. ‘Tomorrow we shall order you a riding habit. I shall take you to Ribblestone’s tailor, he makes all my habits. Unless you think Gideon would prefer you to use his own tailor...?’

  ‘I think Gideon will say I have spent more than enough,’ declared Dominique. ‘Heaven knows how much all this will cost.’

  Gwendoline shrugged.

  ‘Gideon can afford it. Old Lady Telford left him everything, you know, and until now he has frittered it away on larks and sprees. It will be good for him to have some responsibilities.’

  The word threw a cloud over Dominique’s spirits.

  ‘And I am a responsibility.’ She sighed. ‘Will you tell me now why Gideon did not want to marry a Frenchwoman?’

  ‘The war, my dear, surely that is reason enough.’

  ‘No, it is more than that,’ said Dominique, a tiny crease furrowing her brow. ‘He looked very shocked when he found out my father is French. He seemed quite, quite repulsed.’ She fixed her eyes upon Gwendoline. ‘Please tell me, then perhaps I can do something to alleviate the situation.’ She added quickly, ‘What is it, why do you look at me like that, as if you pity me? What is it I should know?’

  Gwendoline hesitated.

  ‘I think Gideon should tell you himself.’

  ‘Please, Gwen.’

  Her pleading look and the hand placed so insistently upon Lady Ribbleston’s arm had its affect. She sighed and nodded.

  ‘Very well. You see, our aunt—Papa’s sister—married a Frenchman, the Duc du Chailly. They were guillotined during the Terror.’

  ‘Oh, I am so very sorry!’

  ‘She was also my godmother and I am named after her. We knew her as Tante Gwendoline and when we were children we spent many happy times with them in France, until the Revolution. It was quite devastating for the family when they died.’

  ‘Oh, that is so very sad. And Max knows this?’

  ‘Martlesham? Yes, of course. It was no secret and the executions were much talked of in town at the time.’

  ‘Then how cruel of him to trick Gideon into marrying me!’ declared Dominique angrily. She frowned. ‘Max thought that as soon as the deceit was known Gideon would seek an annulment.’

  ‘Yes, Gideon mentioned that.’ Gwendoline added quietly, ‘He also told me why that is not possible.’

  Dominique bowed her head, her cheeks crimson.

  ‘He could still divorce me.’

  ‘Not Gideon,’ said his sister decidedly. ‘He is far too honourable to drag any woman through that.’

  ‘Then we are man and wife, until death.’ Dominique sighed. ‘That sounds so bleak, but perhaps, given time...’

  Lady Ribblestone reached out and covered her hands, saying quickly, ‘You must not hope for too much, my dear.’ She hesitated. ‘I think it best if you know everything. Our older brother, James, died in France, too. At the hands of the Girondins.’

  ‘And Papa was a Girondin.’

  If there had been any light at the end of the long tunnel Dominique saw stretching before her, it was shut off in an instant. Beneath Gwendoline’s warm clasp she gripped her hands together very tightly, hoping that small pain would stop her from crying.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said, her throat constricted.

  ‘It was the winter of ninety-one. The Legislative Assembly had been appointed—young, fanatical anti-royalists hell-bent on destroying the old order. James went to France to try to help tante and the duc. Father had friends there, you see, contacts opposed to the new administration. He had arranged a meeting, but on that very night they were attacked and James was killed.’

  ‘And the Legislative Assembly was Girondiste,’ Dominique said in a whisper. ‘Papa was against the violence. He wanted to end it, but who will believe that now?’ She looked up, all hope gone. ‘How can your brother bear to be married to me? Is it for revenge?’

  ‘No, no. Gideon is an honourable man and he will take his marriage vows seriously.’

  Dominique looked around her at the packages littering the carriage.

  ‘What is the point of buying me all this? He can never love me.’

  ‘Very few of us marry for love, my dear.’

  ‘But I represent all that he abhors. And you are Gideon’s sister—you have just as much cause to hate me—’

  ‘Gideon does not hate you, my dear, I am sure of that, and nor do I. You are not responsible for what happened in the Terror. My godmother married the Duc du Chailly because he was a good,
kind man, and before the war we met many such people in France.’ Gwen turned and put her hands on Dominique’s shoulders. ‘You must look upon this as an arranged marriage. Not perhaps what you would have chosen, but you must make the best of it. Gideon has already decided to do so, that is why he asked me to take you under my wing.’ She gave Dominique a little shake. ‘You have to make a life for yourself, my dear. You are not an antidote, there is no reason why you and Gideon should not be happy together. With the right clothes and a little confidence I think we can pass you off quite creditably in society, and when Gideon sees other people taking notice of you, he will do so, too.’

  Dominique looked at her. ‘Do you really think so, Gwen?’

  ‘I am certain of it. We will make you into such a beautiful, stylish wife that he cannot fail to be proud of you!’

  Chapter Six

  Dominique was not convinced by Gwendoline’s brave talk, but they had reached their destination and there was no time to discuss anything more. Judd informed them the master was in the morning room and they went to find him.

  ‘My dear Gideon,’ declared Gwen, greeting him with a kiss. ‘Have you been waiting in for us? How sweet of you. We are quite exhausted.’

  ‘And is my credit similarly exhausted?’ he asked, smiling slightly.

  He invited Dominique to sit on the sofa and sat down beside her, once Gwen had dropped elegantly into an armchair.

  ‘Lord, no. I had everything put to Ribblestone’s account and he will sort it all out with you later.’ Gwendoline paused while the wine and cakes were served. ‘Now, Gideon,’ she said at last, selecting a dainty confection from the selection on her plate. ‘We have made a start in setting your wife up with clothes for the Season. I have been promised that the first of the gowns will be delivered here tomorrow. What about Court Dress? Are you presenting her at a drawing room?’

  ‘Oh, I would rather not,’ murmured Dominique in some alarm.

  ‘Nonsense, your husband will be the next Viscount Rotham. You must be presented.’

  ‘But not yet,’ said Gideon. ‘I think my father should meet Nicky first. This visit to town is merely an—er—informal one.’

  ‘And when do you intend to go to Rotham?’

  ‘All in good time.’

  Gwen frowned. ‘You cannot put off the meeting forever, Brother. Whatever was said in the heat of the moment Papa will not hold it against you, you know that. Your tempers are too similar for him not to understand. He is lonely, Gideon, and however harsh his words he does care for you, very much.’

  ‘I do know that.’ He rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘I shall go, but not yet, not yet.’

  Dominique sipped her wine and listened to the conversation, aware of a tension between the brother and sister.

  ‘Is it because of me?’ she ventured. ‘Will Lord Rotham be angry with you for marrying me?’

  ‘Of course not—!’

  Gideon put up his hand to stem his sister’s denial.

  ‘He will not be happy about it, but his wrath will be on my head, Nicky, not yours. I shall not take you to Rotham without his assurance that you will be received with the respect that is due to you.’

  Respect! That sounded very bleak indeed. Dominique was relieved Gideon had no immediate plans to take her to Rotham. Perhaps once she had her own clothes she would feel more courageous. From all Gwen had told her she knew she would be a fool to cling on to any hope that Gideon would ever feel more for her than a mild friendship, but perhaps she could gain his respect. She resolved there and then never to embarrass him by any show of affection that he would have to rebuff. No, she would show him—and his father—that despite her French heritage she could be a model wife, a fitting consort for an English lord.

  * * *

  Dominique was soon on good terms with Mrs Wilkins and slipped naturally into her role as mistress of the house. She began to make little changes, such as ordering a fire to be kept burning in the morning room, and she asked Judd to remove some of the heavy silver from the dining table, so that she could at least see her husband when they dined together each evening. If Gideon noticed he said nothing, but she was heartened when he suggested a place should be laid for her at his right hand for dinner, rather than sitting so far apart, and she was quietly pleased when he began to seek her out for a glass of wine when he came in each afternoon, before going upstairs to change for dinner. For the first week she remained in the house, going out only with Lady Ribblestone on shopping trips, but by the end of Dominique’s second week in Brook Street, Gwendoline declared that her sister-in-law was at last fit to be seen.

  They were having breakfast and Lady Ribblestone suggested they should drive through the park at the fashionable hour.

  ‘I should like to go out,’ Dominique admitted, ‘but Hyde Park—will it not be very crowded?’

  ‘Oh, excessively,’ replied Gwendoline cheerfully. ‘The world and his wife will be there.’

  ‘So many people?’ exclaimed Dominique, dismayed. ‘I am not sure I am ready—’

  She broke off as Gideon came in.

  ‘Now, what are you two plotting?’ he said, smiling. ‘Are you off to spend more money today?’

  ‘Not at all,’ retorted Gwen. ‘I want Dominique to accompany me to the park. It promises to be a very fine afternoon and we could drive out in the barouche.’

  He sat down at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee. Gwen watched him in surprise.

  ‘This is a change, Brother,’ she said, momentarily diverted. ‘I thought you only drank ale at breakfast.’

  He grinned. ‘Bachelor fare, Sis. I am a married man now.’

  ‘Then help me to persuade your wife to drive out with me. She has been cooped up in this house long enough.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Gideon, ‘but I am not sure if riding with you in a stuffy barouche is how she should make her entrance into polite society.’

  ‘There is nothing stuffy about Ribblestone’s barouche,’ retorted his sister, offended.

  ‘Perhaps not, but I would rather drive Nicky in my curricle.’

  It was the first time he had suggested they go out together and Dominique felt her cheeks going pink with pleasure.

  ‘I cannot compete with that.’ Gwen laughed and wagged her finger at Dominique. ‘Accept immediately, my dear. I have never known my brother to take up a female in his curricle before!’

  ‘Quite true, Gwen.’ Gideon turned to Dominique, smiling. ‘Well, madam, will you give me the honour of driving you out for your first introduction to the ton?’

  * * *

  Dominique was in a panic. What to wear to drive out with Gideon? Her new riding habit had not yet arrived, and although her new promenade dress was beautiful it had been bought for the warmer months. She even ran out into the street to test the weather. The sun was shining, but there was a chill wind blowing and she did not want to make her first public appearance wrapped up in a shawl. After much deliberation she decided she would wear her new pelisse of crimson silk, with a matching cap. Gwendoline had persuaded her to have it trimmed with fur and frogged à la hussar, prophesying correctly that the chilly days of spring were not yet at an end. She had also added that not everyone could wear such a strong colour, especially not a blowsy blonde.

  * * *

  At the appointed hour Dominique made her way downstairs to find Gideon waiting for her in the hall. He glanced up as he heard her step on the stairs, then turned for a second, longer look. She saw the surprise in his eyes, but there was admiration, too, and her heart gave a little skip. She was emboldened to ask him if she would do.

  ‘You will do very well,’ he said slowly. ‘The colour suits you admirably.’

  She was relieved and said with a smile, ‘Remind me, then, to thank your sister for persuading me to buy it.’

  A gle
aming curricle waited at the door, two beautiful grey horses in harness and his groom at their heads.

  ‘This is Sam, my tiger,’ said Gideon, a laugh in his voice. ‘And the reason he is looking so deuced savage is that we are not in the habit of driving females.’

  ‘Not if they’s gonna screech and frighten the ’osses,’ muttered Sam, giving a reluctant tug of his forelock in Dominique’s direction.

  ‘Mind your tongue, man!’

  ‘No, he is quite right,’ replied Dominique, cutting across her husband’s sharp reply and smiling at the groom. ‘I hope I know how to behave myself in an open carriage and think I can promise not to screech, unless of course we are about to be overturned.’

  ‘He ain’t likely to do that,’ opined Sam. ‘Top o’ the trees is Mr Albury when it comes to driving.’

  ‘Ah, then I understand why you are happy to stay in his employ,’ she said as Gideon helped her into her seat. ‘And since you have such confidence in Mr Albury’s driving, I am more than happy to drive out with him.’

  * * *

  ‘I think you have made a conquest,’ murmured Gideon as the groom jumped clear of the horses and waited to scramble up into the rumble seat. ‘Sam was not at all happy when he discovered I had fallen into the parson’s mousetrap.’

  Dominique said nothing, but she was pleased to have come safely over another small hurdle.

  * * *

  The spring sunshine had brought everyone out of doors and the journey to the park gates was slow. Gideon kept his attention on negotiating the busy roads and Dominique had plenty of time to admire his skill as he inched the curricle through the traffic. If she expected to enjoy a quiet drive, she was disappointed. As soon as they entered the park gates she saw the crowds. Ladies with parasols, gentlemen with their canes, all parading up and down beside a procession of carriages and riders. Their progress was very slow, for it seemed everyone wanted to stop and be introduced to the new Mrs Albury. Gideon was a little concerned at first about how Nicky would react to all the attention, but he discovered his worries unfounded. She was a little shy, but her manners were perfectly good and she turned aside the more impertinent comments and questions with a quiet dignity.