Sarah Mallory - Lady Beneath the Veil

‘Carstairs, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for putting Elmwood Lodge at our disposal.’ He rose and put his hands on the back of Dominique’s chair. ‘Now, wife, it is time you changed into your travelling dress and we will be away.’

She cast another startled glance at Max, who merely shrugged. Silently she rose, but as she passed her cousin she hesitated. Surely he would intervene now. She said quietly, ‘The joke is played, my lord. I have done my part, pray you, call an end to it.’

To her dismay Max merely took her hand and raised it to his lips.

‘Let me be the first to congratulate you, Mrs Albury.’

She gripped his hand, angered and frightened by his mocking smile.

‘And my mother? You promised.’

Those haughty eyebrows lifted a fraction higher.

‘I gave you my word, did I not?’ He leaned a little closer and murmured, ‘Go along, my dear, do not keep your husband waiting.’

Her lip curled and she wanted to retort, but Gideon was approaching, so she whisked herself out of the room.

* * *

Dominique went up to her bedchamber, seething with anger and not only for Max. She had lent herself to this and could hardly complain now if things did not go as she had expected. It had seemed so simple when the earl had explained it to her: the trick would be played and upon discovery the lawyers would be summoned, the sham marriage annulled and everything would be put right. Only Gideon was not playing by the same rules as her cousin. He wanted to continue the farce a little longer, to save face, to turn the joke on to her cousin and probably to punish her for her impudence in duping him. She glanced in the mirror, her spirits falling even further. It was inconceivable that he would really want to keep her as his wife, but for now she had no choice but to prepare to drive away with him.

The only gown she had with her was the olive-green walking dress she had arrived in. It was not new, but the colour suited her, and with its mannish cut and the gold frogging it looked well enough for an earl’s cousin. The embroidered lace veil would fill in the low neckline and keep the cold March wind at bay. She squared her shoulders. If Gideon Albury wanted to continue with this charade it would have to do.

To her consternation everyone was gathered in the hall, waiting for her. They all seemed determined to pretend that this was any normal going-away ceremony. Max ran up the final few stairs and gave her his arm as though he was about to give her away all over again.

‘I have had the maids fill a trunk for you,’ he murmured. ‘Can’t have you going off without a rag to your back.’

He led her up to Gideon, who stood rigid and implacable. Dominique glanced once at his face—it could have been chiselled from stone, so cold and impassive did he look. Concealing a shudder, she dropped her eyes to his exquisitely embroidered waistcoat. Perhaps he had ordered it especially for the wedding, to impress his bride. She felt even more ashamed of allowing herself to be a part of Max’s cruel scheme.

With much cheering they were escorted to the waiting travelling carriage, where her trunk was being strapped on the roof. She felt a light touch on her shoulder as the carriage pulled away.

‘Well, madam, are you not going to smile for your guests?’

She shrugged off his hand.

‘How far do you intend to carry this joke, sir?’

‘Joke?’ His voice was icy. ‘I do not know what you mean, madam. It was Martlesham who played the joke.’

‘And you have repaid him. He was quite shocked when you said the marriage would stand.’

‘Yes, his reaction was delightfully amusing.’

‘You have had your fun, sir,’ she said coolly. ‘Now I pray you will abandon this charade.’

‘Oh, it is no charade, madam. I am in deadly earnest.’

She stared at him, a cold hand clutching at her heart when she saw his implacable look.

‘But—but you never meant to marry me. You cannot want me for your bride.’

‘Why not? As I told Max, I have to marry sometime, and you are as good as any other wife.’ His eyes swept over her, as if stripping her naked and she felt a hot blush spreading up through her body. She realised for the first time how fully she had put herself in this man’s power. She summoned up every ounce of indignation to respond.

‘That is outrageous!’

‘Outrageous or not, madam, you should have considered every possibility before you gave yourself to this plan. You married me, for better or worse. There is no way back.’

* * *

Unsettled by the look of horror on his companion’s face, Gideon closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He was still furious at being duped into marriage, but he had some sympathy with his bride. Knowing Max, he suspected that pressure had been put on the chit to comply. But she could have declared herself in church, if she had really objected to the whole thing. No, he would punish her just a little more.

He wondered what they would find when they eventually reached Elmwood Lodge. Carstairs had almost choked on his wine when Gideon had reminded him that he had offered it—obviously no one had expected the marriage to go beyond the wedding ceremony, so no arrangements had been made. While everyone had waited for the bride to change her gown a rider had been despatched to Elmwood on a fast horse to notify the servants that a bride and groom were on their way.

How soon after they arrived he would call a halt to this masquerade Gideon had not yet decided.

* * *

When the carriage turned into the gates of Elmwood Lodge sometime later it was immediately apparent that the news of their arrival had been received with enthusiasm. The open gates were decorated with ribbons and as they bowled up to the entrance an elderly couple appeared, the man hurriedly buttoning his livery. Gideon recognised Chiswick, the butler and man of all work, and the woman following him in her snowy apron and cap was his wife and housekeeper of the lodge.

‘Oh, lord,’ Gideon muttered as the door was wrenched open. ‘We are properly for it now.’

‘Welcome, sir, madam! We are delighted you have come to Elmwood Lodge.’ Mrs Chiswick almost hustled her husband out of the way as she greeted them with an effusion of smiles. ‘If you would care to come into the parlour, you will find cakes and wine set out there, and a roaring fire. If we’d had more notice then the rest of the rooms would be ready for you, too, but they may take a while yet, although I have sent for Alice from the village to come and help me.’

Gideon jumped down and turned back to help his bride to alight. She did so silently, looking pale and dazed. He pulled her hand on to his sleeve and followed the still-chattering housekeeper into the house. The large, panelled hall had been hastily decorated with boughs of evergreens and spring flowers. Gideon’s heart sank: the couple were clearly overjoyed to be entertaining a pair of newlyweds. He felt the fingers on his arm tremble and absently put his hand up to give them a reassuring squeeze.

More early spring flowers adorned the wainscotted parlour where a cheerful fire burned in the hearth and refreshments were set out on the table. Gideon waited until his garrulous hostess paused for breath, then said firmly, ‘Thank you, Mrs Chiswick. We will serve ourselves.’

‘Very well, sir. And...’ She turned to look out of the window. ‘Do your servants follow you?’

‘No, we are quite alone.’

‘Ah, of course.’

Her understanding smile brought a flush to Gideon’s cheek and he dared not look at his companion to see the effect upon her, but as soon as they were alone he said, ‘I beg your pardon. When Max told me your servant was remaining at Martlesham to look after your mother I thought it best to leave my man behind, too. Now I see that it has given rise to the very worst sort of speculation.’

‘Very natural speculation, given the circumstances.’

Her calm response relieved his mind of one worry: she was not going to fall into hysterics. Yet he should not have been surprised. She could have no proper feeling to have lent herself to this madness in the first place.

He retorted coldly, ‘These circumstances, as you describe them, are very much your own fault.’

‘I am well aware of that.’

She took off her hat and gloves and untied the strings of her cloak. When he put his hands on her shoulders to take it from her she tensed, but did not shrug him off. He was standing so close behind her that he could smell her perfume, a subtle hint of lily of the valley that made him want to drop his head closer still, perhaps even to bend and place a kiss upon the slender white neck exposed to his view.

Shocked at his reaction, he drew back. This woman was nothing to him—how could he even contemplate making love to her? But the idea lingered and it disturbed him.

Gideon threw her cloak over a chair with his own greatcoat, placing his hat and gloves next to hers on the small side table. His temper was cooling and he was all too aware of their predicament. Perhaps it was not too late to remedy that. He dashed out of the room. He found the butler crossing the hallway and called to him as he ran to the main door.

‘Has the coach gone? Quickly, man!’

‘Y-yes, sir! As soon as you was set down. We took off the baggage and they was away, wanting to get somewhere near home before nightfall, there being no moon tonight.’

Gideon yanked open the door and looked out at the empty drive.

‘But that was only minutes ago. We must fetch it back. There must be a horse in the stables you can send after it.’

Startled, the butler shook his head.

‘I’m afraid not, sir. There’s only Bessie, the cob, but she pulls the carts and has never worn a saddle in her life. I suppose old Adam could harness her up to the gig...’

Staring into the gathering darkness, Gideon realised it would be impossible for them to call back the carriage now.

‘How far is it to the nearest town, or even the nearest inn?’

The butler looked at him with astonishment and Gideon thought grimly how it must look, the bridegroom wanting to run away before his wedding night! However, the truth would be even more unpalatable, so he remained silent while the man pondered his question.

‘There ain’t an inn, sir,’ he said at last. ‘Not one as would suit you, at any rate. And it’s all of seven miles to Swaffham, but you wouldn’t be wanting to set out tonight, not without a moon.’

‘No, of course not.’ With a shake of his head Gideon stepped back from the entrance, leaving Chiswick to close the door while he made his way back to the parlour. He could hardly complain. After all, he himself had hired the post-chaise and his instructions had been quite clear: it would not be required again for two weeks. He had fully intended to enjoy his honeymoon with his bewitching bride. Now he was stranded in the middle of nowhere with a young woman he had never met before today. And a respectable young woman at that, despite her part in this charade. Damn Max and his practical jokes!

Chapter Three

Gideon returned to find the lady in question pacing up and down the parlour. He said as calmly as he could, ‘It seems we are stuck here, at least until the morning.’

‘Was that not your intention?’

Her glance scorched him and he frowned.

‘No, I had not thought it out. I was angry.’

‘And now?’

‘Now I realise that it would have been better if we had remained at the Abbey.’ He paused. ‘We are in the devil of a coil.’

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.’