‘Where did you say you met him?’
‘At the Knightsons’ ball.’ She frowned up at him. ‘Really, Gideon, was it necessary to be so cold towards Monsieur Lamotte? You barely spoke half-a-dozen words to him.’
‘I beg your pardon, my dear, but we have so little in common.’
‘It was more than that. You were positively arctic!’
‘I am certainly surprised by your friendship with the fellow.’
‘You are offended, because he is French,’ she declared hotly. ‘Your hatred of the whole race is quite unreasonable.’
He did not reply and with a toss of her head she turned away.
‘Nicky!’ She stopped and he said quietly, ‘I would rather you did not pursue your acquaintance with Monsieur Lamotte.’
She turned, her brows raised in haughty surprise.
‘That is outrageous! You cannot dictate with whom I shall associate.’
‘I was not aware I was dictating to you, my dear, merely making my wishes clear.’
‘It is the same thing.’
‘Not at all.’
‘And if I refuse to comply?’
His eyes narrowed. He leaned closer so that his words were for her alone.
‘Do not forget, madam, that you are my wife.’
Her head went up.
‘But I am not your slave!’
With a swish of her skirts she flounced away from him.
How dare Gideon dictate to her! It was nothing but prejudice, because Raymond was French, and she was tired of it. She wished Gwendoline was here, but she was attending some tedious political dinner with Ribblestone. There was no one else present to whom she could pour out her anger and frustration, so she took herself off to the card room and proceeded to lose a large portion of her pin money.
* * *
However, by the time she left the card room her temper had cooled, so that when she saw her husband in the ballroom she went straight up to him, saying penitently, ‘I beg your pardon, Gideon, I should not have ripped up at you so.’ His brows went up, but the harshness left his face as he took her outstretched hand and she was emboldened to continue. ‘I understand why you might not like Monsieur Lamotte, but he is a link with my childhood, the life I knew before we moved to England.’ She clung to his fingers. ‘Please do not ask me to give him up.’
He stared down at her, a look she could not interpret in his hazel eyes.
‘Is he merely an acquaintance, Nicky, nothing more?’
‘Of course. What else should he be?’
‘And your morning meetings with him in Green Park?’ When her eyes flew to his face he gave her a wry smile. ‘You were seen, by Anthony. I told him it was nothing and the fact that you had your maid with you gives weight to my belief.’
‘And it is nothing, Gideon, I give you my word.’ She sighed. ‘But I quite see how it must look, so I shall not meet him there again.’
‘Thank you.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I will not have the fellow call at Brook Street, but if you meet him at such parties as this and wish to dance with him, I will not object.’
A compromise. She was aware of how much ground he was giving.
‘Very well, Gideon. Thank you.’ She suddenly felt very tired. ‘Do you think our hostess would object if I went home now?’
‘No, of course not. I shall escort you. Go downstairs and collect your wrap while I give our excuses to Lady Dortwood.’
Dominique made her way to the hall, where a lackey was sent scurrying off to fetch her cloak.
‘I fear your husband does not like me.’
Dominique whirled about to find Raymond Lamotte standing behind her.
She gave a sad little smile. ‘It will be best if we discontinue our walks together, monsieur.’
He shook his head. ‘Ah, that is a sadness, because I have something to discuss with you.’
‘We will have to do so the next time we meet—’
‘It concerns your father.’ His words brought her eyes flying to his face. He continued, ‘You told me you were trying to find him, so I have made the enquiries. I have friends in France who still have influence with the Directoire. They will know how to find the missing person. Some have been imprisoned for many years and it is not easy to gain information, but there is a man who knows how to do these things. He moves regularly between France and England, but secretly, so the less people who know of this the better. I have spoken to him about your father and he thinks we may be able to find him.’
She shook her head, hardly daring to hope. ‘Then you must come to the house. Gideon could not object to that—’
‘Oh, but I fear he would, madame. You have told me yourself he is not a friend to my country. He would think it a—how do you say it?—a ploy. Non, I would rather discuss this with you alone. I need information from you.’
‘Anything,’ she said eagerly.
‘Eh bien, you must write down everything you remember of your father—where he lived, what he looked like, who his friends were. No little detail is too small. When you have done that, you must bring it to me at my lodgings and I will pass it on to my friend.’
‘Yes, yes, I will, of course.’
‘Good. I need the information by tomorrow evening. My contact is returning to France the following morning and he has promised to seek out news of your father.’
‘Oh, oh, thank you.’ She felt the hope bubbling up within her again. Maman would be so pleased when she told her! ‘I shall begin writing it all up tonight and send it round—’
‘No, you must bring it yourself. Can you be there at five o’clock? Then I can read it and if there are any things that are not clear, any questions, you will be there to answer them.’
‘Yes, of course, I understand.’
‘Good.’ He gave her his direction, looking over his shoulder as the servant hurried up to them carrying her rose silk wrap over his arm. ‘I must go now. Remember, my contact relies upon secrecy—if he is discovered, then all is lost.’
She nodded. ‘You may trust me to tell no one.’
‘Thank you, madame.’ He smiled and pressed a final kiss upon her fingers. ‘Until tomorrow, then. Five o’clock. Do not be late!’
He hurried away and Dominique absently fastened her cloak about her shoulders. Maman had been trying for years to find news of Papa without success. To have someone else searching, someone who knew the workings of the French government, surely they would have far more chance of finding out the truth? She had never quite given up hope, but it had lain dormant and now, suddenly, it was blossoming again. She could not wait to get back to Brook Street and write out everything she could remember about her father.
* * *
Gideon found his wife very distracted on the homeward journey. He wondered if she was regretting her promise to give up her walks with Raymond Lamotte. When Ribblestone had mentioned that he had seen Nicky walking with a French émigré in Green Park Gideon had shrugged it off. He guessed it was a chance meeting, and he quite understood why she had not mentioned the matter to him, but a casual remark to Kitty when he met her on the stairs two days later elicited the information that her mistress was in the habit of walking in the park every morning. And, yes, the French gentleman was always there.