Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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       Chapter Eight

      Max’s words were still in her head the next morning, when she stood naked before the mirror and placed her hands on her thickening body. Gideon had insisted she should see his doctor and she had just endured a lengthy examination, after which Dr Harris, a blunt, jovial man, confirmed what she already knew.

      ‘Carry on with your life as before,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe in ladies mollycoddling themselves just because they are increasing. You are a healthy young woman, exercise and fresh air will do you more good than lying on a daybed. Your body will tell you what you can and cannot do, but you should not need to make any changes just yet.’

      She had no intention of making changes, but Gideon had already done so. He had not shared her bed since the day she had told him about the baby. She could only assume that he considered his duty done now, until she had given birth. Her hands moved over her belly: in a few months it would be swollen with their growing child.

      A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and she reached quickly for her dressing gown.

      ‘Come in.’

      Gideon entered. He was smiling.

      ‘I have been talking to Harris. He agrees with your assessment that the child is due in December.’

      ‘Are you pleased, Gideon?’ she asked him shyly.

      ‘Do you doubt it?’ He came forwards and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I am delighted.’

      ‘Then so, too, am I,’ she said, smiling up at him.

      He hesitated before lowering his head to kiss her. Tentatively she put her arms about him and felt his hands tighten on her shoulders. Her body tingled with anticipation as she felt his fingers close upon the wrap, as if he was about to push the thin silk from her shoulders and expose her nakedness. Her disappointment was searing when instead he gently put her away from him.

      ‘Delighted,’ he said again, smiling awkwardly down at her. ‘I must go. I have work to do. How do you amuse yourself today?’

      She turned away so that he should not see how his rejection had hurt her.

      ‘I am going to Grosvenor Square to take tea with Gwendoline before we drive in the park.’

      ‘Then we shall meet again at dinner.’ He walked to the door.

      ‘You haven’t forgotten that we go to Knightson House tonight?’

      He turned to look at her. ‘You won’t be too fatigued?’

      ‘Of course not.’ But I would much rather stay here with you.

      She drew a breath, trying to frame her thoughts into words. ‘But I would happily remain here, if you would rather not go?’

      ‘No, no, you wish to go and I shall be delighted to escort you.’ He smiled, gave a little bow and left her.

      * * *

      Dominique sank down on to the stool and stared into the mirror. Gideon was so polite, so distant. Not only did he avoid her room at night, but he rarely touched her now—the kiss he had just given her was a mere brushing of the lips. Her own had parted, but he had immediately drawn back, as if repulsed by the contact. Was Max right—did he want to go back to his bachelor existence? She wondered if she should tell him how much she missed his attentions, but she was afraid the admission would push him still further away. If the married ladies of her acquaintance were to be believed then a wife should keep her husband at a distance, never for one moment let him think she desired him. She must remain aloof, unattainable. Could that be true, when all her instincts told her the opposite?

      Whenever she was with Gideon she wanted to put her arms about him, to touch him and kiss him. Such public displays were frowned upon. It might have been thirty years ago, but the Duchess of Devonshire’s scandalous behaviour was still talked of—when, as a young bride, she had danced across the room to sit upon her husband’s knee. If a duchess could not indulge in such forward behaviour, how much worse would it be for an ordinary lady, and one who was only half English? Gideon already had a deep hatred for the French, she must not give him even more cause to despise her. Sighing, she pushed herself up off the stool and went into the dressing room. She would talk to Gwendoline. When they were alone she would ask her again just what was and wasn’t acceptable behaviour in a wife.

      * * *

      Dominique had lost no time in unburdening herself to her sister-in-law and had finished explaining her dilemma even before her teacup was empty. Lady Ribblestone was sympathetic.

      ‘You are in love with Gideon.’

      Dominique nodded miserably.

      ‘Yes, I believe I am.’