Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ indeed, sir.’ A smile tugged at Gideon’s mouth.

      The viscount said quietly, ‘I could not have chosen better for you.’ He shrugged. ‘So her father was French—are we to hold that against her? Your aunt fell in love with a Frenchman, after all.’

      ‘And paid the price for it.’ Gideon shifted uncomfortably. ‘And my brother, too—’

      Lord Rotham put up a hand.

      ‘It is time we put that behind us. However, what I cannot forget is my wife’s demise.’ He said earnestly, ‘Dominique may be strong, but too many babies will wear her out, Gideon. If you are prey to carnal lusts, then take a mistress, but for God’s sake leave your wife alone, or risk losing her, as I lost your mother.’

      * * *

      They fell silent. It was not the first time the viscount had told Gideon that a surfeit of love had killed Lady Rotham, that he had been unable to control his passion. Well, that would not be a problem in this case: Gideon did not love Nicky.

      Even as the thought entered his head Gideon realised it was a lie. There had been plenty of passion on their wedding night, but since then he had tried to deny that he felt anything for his wife save animosity for her French connections. Now, however, as the clock ticked away the minutes and the night slid quietly and coldly into Christmas Day, he realised how much Nicky meant to him. He wondered what he would do if he lost her, if she died before he could tell her how much he loved her.

      * * *

      The cushions that Dominique had added to the drawing-room chairs made it possible for the two men to slumber fitfully until the grey light of a new winter’s day filtered through the window. The fire had burned down and Gideon was becoming aware of the uncomfortable chill around his legs when the opening of the drawing-room door brought him fully awake with a jerk.

      The butler stood in the doorway, clearly having difficulty in maintaining his impassive countenance.

      ‘Yes, Colne, what is it?’

      The elderly butler drew himself up and announced in a voice that shook slightly, ‘Sir—my lord, Mrs Albury’s maid has just come downstairs and told us that her mistress has been delivered of a healthy baby. A boy, my lord.’

      ‘And Mrs Albury?’ Gideon held his breath.

      A smile split the old servant’s face.

      ‘She is well, sir.’

      Without another word Gideon sprang out of his chair and raced up the stairs, reaching the landing just as Mrs Moss appeared, her arms full of bedsheets. The woman grinned at him.

      ‘You’ll be wantin’ to see yer new son, I’ll be bound.’

      ‘And my wife.’

      ‘Aye, well, she’s exhausted, but no doubt she’ll be pleased to see you. We’ve just cleaned her up and the babe, so in you go.’

      Quietly Gideon entered the room. Mrs Rainault was standing by the bed, a small snuffling bundle in her arms. She smiled.

      ‘Come and meet your new son, sir.’

      Gideon glanced at the red-faced scrap, but quickly turned his attention to the bed where Nicky lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. It was limp and cool in his grasp, but she gave his fingers a slight squeeze.

      ‘We have a son, Gideon. Are you pleased?’

      ‘Delighted.’ He smiled down at her. ‘But even more pleased that you are well, Dominique.’

      Through the fog of exhaustion Dominique noted his use of her name—the first time since their wedding night. With a satisfied smile she slipped away into a deep sleep.

      * * *

      Dominique’s insistence that old traditions should be revived made Christmas at Rotham more festive than any Gideon could remember since his childhood, but it was the birth of young Master Albury that gave the celebrations an added edge. Mother and baby continued to thrive under the watchful care of Mrs Rainault and the month nurse, and Lord Rotham ordered that Colne should treat the servants to a few bottles of his best claret to toast the health of his new grandson, James Jerome Albury.

      With each day the viscount became more cheerful, never more so than on the first evening that Dominique was well enough to come downstairs for dinner. She took her place opposite her mother, while Gideon and his father sat at each end of the small table in the oak parlour. Conversation was desultory, until the covers were removed and Mrs Rainault announced that she should be thinking of returning to Martlesham.

      ‘I have rather neglected my letter writing since being here with you,’ she told Dominique, when she protested.

      ‘Surely you can write your letters anywhere,’ remarked the viscount.

      ‘Why, yes, my lord, but I have taken advantage of your hospitality long enough.’

      The viscount sat back and steepled his long fingers together.

      ‘I wonder, ma’am, if you might consider moving to Rotham? I own a small house in the village that is empty at present.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I would like to help you in your efforts to find out what has happened to your husband—Gideon has told me of your quest, ma’am, and Lord Martlesham’s—er—reluctance to help you.’

      Dominique looked up. ‘I believe he discarded Mama’s letters, rather than frank them.’

      The viscount frowned. ‘That would not happen at Rotham, I assure you.’

      ‘But we must not raise false hopes,’ said Gideon quickly. ‘Our lawyer in London has been looking into the case, but we have had no luck at all.’

      ‘Rogers is a good man,’ said the viscount. ‘I am sure he has gone through all the official channels.’

      ‘I believe so, my lord.’ Dominique sighed.

      ‘I, on the other hand,’ he murmured, ‘will go through rather more—unofficial channels.’

      Dominique stared at the viscount. He was sipping his wine, that disturbing twinkle in his eyes.

      ‘Would you do that for me, my lord? For Jerome?’ Mrs Rainault gave a tiny shake of her head. ‘I beg your pardon, but I know—that is, I am aware—that you have no cause to think kindly of any Girondin.’

      ‘Dominique has told me your husband advocated moderation. I understand he gave up the chance to come to England with you because he wanted to save his king.’

      ‘That is true, my lord, but we have heard nothing for so many years.’

      He smiled. ‘Let me see what I can do for you, Mrs Rainault.’

      * * *

      By the end of the evening it had all been arranged. Mrs Rainault would remain as the viscount’s guest until her maid had returned from Martlesham with her belongings.

      ‘I СКАЧАТЬ