Dominique wondered if she dared go to bed, but decided the proprieties must be observed and asked Mrs Wilkins to bring in the tea tray when the master joined her in the drawing room.

* * *

When Gideon came in she was relieved to see that the shuttered look was gone and he addressed her in a cheerful, friendly tone.

‘I have been thinking, Nicky, I have not yet given you a wedding present. I shall take you to Rundell’s and you shall choose something for yourself, but in the meantime I found this—my godmother’s jewel case.’ He held out a small leather box. ‘Most of Godmama’s jewellery is at the bank, but you might like these trinkets to be going on with.’

Dominique set the case on her lap and pushed up the clasp, her eyes widening as she opened the lid. The contents glittered in the candlelight. A profusion of gold and silver and coloured stones winked up at her.

‘Th-thank you,’ she murmured, bemused. She pushed her fingers gently into the tangle and lifted out a handful of the jewels, letting them fall back into the box in a sparkling cascade. ‘They are beautiful, Gideon, thank you.’

‘Some of the stones—perhaps all—will be paste,’ Gideon explained, watching her. ‘I noticed that you wear no jewellery, but I thought these trinkets might amuse you.’

‘Amuse!’ She gave a little laugh. ‘They are much more than amusing. We brought very little to England, Papa disposed of everything to pay for the journey, including most of Mama’s jewels.’

‘No doubt she kept her most precious pieces to pass on to you?’

‘They have all been sold now. The attempts to find information about Papa have cost her a great deal.’

‘But surely Martlesham...?’

Dominique shook her head.

‘While my uncle lived we were very comfortable, but once Max became earl he said he could no longer afford to fund Mama’s search for my father. She sold her jewels, gave him everything she had to pay the bribes the French officials demanded for information, but it all came to nought. Max thinks Papa is dead and would do nothing more than frank Mama’s letters.’ She bit her lip. ‘You have a penniless bride, Gideon.’

‘Martlesham told me as much before the banns were called.’

Colour stained her cheeks, but she refused to look at him.

‘But then you thought you were marrying someone else...’

An uncomfortable silence fell. Gideon felt a tug of sympathy and a keen desire to distract her from her unhappy thoughts.

‘May I?’ He reached down and pulled out a necklace gleaming with green fire. ‘This would suit you, the stones are the colour of your eyes. I remember Godmama wearing it and there should be some ear-drops in there, too...’

‘Yes, here they are.’ She looked up. ‘May I put them on now?’

‘Of course.’ He watched her, smiling at her enthusiasm as she carefully put the box down and went over to the mirror to fix the ear-drops in place. He followed her across the room. ‘I was right, the colour does suit you. Let us add the necklace.’

She laughed. ‘First I must remove the kerchief.’ She reached around and began to fumble with the knot at the back.

‘Here, let me.’ Gideon untied the lacy ends and pulled it carefully away from her shoulders.

Without the concealing fichu it was apparent just how badly the dress fitted. Its original owner had obviously been of much more generous proportions than the waiflike creature who stood before him. Even with the drawstrings pulled tight the décolletage was extremely low, exposing the gentle swell of her bosom and more flesh than was becoming. Even as the thought entered his head he knew he was being unfair. Many ladies wore dresses as revealing as this, possibly even more so.

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