* * *
‘My sister Gwendoline is in town,’ he said, settling back in his chair. ‘I shall visit her tomorrow to explain our situation and ask her to take you shopping.’
Dominique almost dropped her cup.
‘You—you will tell her about our marriage?’
‘Of course. There is no point in hiding it. As soon as Max and his cronies return it will be all over town anyway.’
‘I suppose you are right. But will she want to help me?’
‘She is my sister and will want to dispel any gossip.’
Gideon replied with calm certainty, but Dominique was not so sure.
* * *
It was in a mood of trepidation that Dominique went downstairs to greet her visitor two days later.
She was immediately struck by the likeness between brother and sister, the same auburn hair and hazel eyes, but although Lady Ribblestone was tall she could not be described as lean. A gown of the finest cream displayed her ample figure beneath the holly-green pelisse that hung open from her shoulders, while a matching bonnet of the same dark green silk sat jauntily on her burnished curls.
‘So you are Gideon’s bride by mistake,’ she said bluntly.
‘Yes, Lady Ribblestone, I—’
‘Oh, no formality, please, you must call me Gwen.’ The lady came forwards and hugged her. ‘And what shall I call you?’
‘Dominique—that is, G-Gideon prefers to call me Nicky,’ she said, emerging, startled, from the scented embrace.
‘Now, why should he do that, when Dominique is such a pretty name?’
‘I—it is French...’
‘Ah, of course.’ A shadow crossed Gwen’s countenance, but she recovered quickly and gave another blinding smile. ‘Gideon tells me you are seriously in need of clothes.’ Dominique found herself being scrutinised from head to toe. ‘Well, perhaps it is a little out of fashion, but it is not that bad.’
Dominique glanced down at her walking dress and gave a rueful smile.
‘Perhaps not, but it is the only thing I have.’
‘What? My dear girl, you must explain everything.’
And suddenly Dominique found herself on the sofa beside Lady Ribblestone, telling her about her sudden departure from Martlesham and the trunk Max had sent with her, full of improper garments. Immediately Gwendoline demanded to see them.
‘I am sorry to say it, my dear,’ she said as they made their way to Dominique’s bedchamber, ‘but I cannot like your cousin. If this whole sorry business has given Gideon a dislike of the earl’s company then some good has come of it. And Gideon’s marrying you, of course.’
‘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