The next morning the atmosphere was awkward with remembered embarrassment and Antonia escaped to the drawing room to open the post. Her interest in a pamphlet on the manuring of roses sent by Sir Josiah waned, however, in competition with the memory of Marcus’s hard body, cold from the river, urgent against hers.
She shivered despite the heat, recalling the feel of wet hair crisping under her fingertips as she had entwined her arms around his neck.
With an effort Antonia pulled herself together and opened the next package which contained a very sprightly missive from Great-Aunt Honoria.
‘I find this new doctor most invigorating, my dear,’ the old lady wrote. ‘He advised changing from that lowering diet to one including red meat, game and Bordeaux and I feel not a day over fifty again! Your cousin Hewitt keeps urging me to rest – sometimes I think he wishes me to remain an invalid – but I find I am enjoying myself too much. And I confess, my dear, that new wife of your cousin Clarence’s is such a little peahen that I find myself quite rejuvenated by dislike for her! I know you are much engaged putting the Dower House to rights, but please come and see me soon now that I am returned to my own house. Town is short of company now, but you and I were always able to find some diversion to amuse us.’
Antonia, delighted that her great-aunt was so much better, was indulging in a daydream of escaping from all the heartaches of home to a few weeks in London when Jane announced, ‘Lady Anne, Miss Antonia,’ making her start in her seat and drop the pamphlet on the Turkey rug.
If there was any sort of atmosphere at Brightshill no reflection of it showed on Lady Anne’s face as she took a chair and accepted the suggestion of a glass of lemonade.
‘I will come straight to the point, Miss Dane: this is not a social call. I am in sore need of your help.’
‘My help?’ She had succeeded in startling Antonia. ‘Why, of course, any service in my power I will gladly perform. Is it the children?’
‘You are most kind. I am happy to say the children are thriving – they love the freedom of Brightshill after London. No, it is a certain social awkwardness.’ She took a strategic sip of her lemonade. ‘I felt Lady Reed was not happy. I assumed she was pining for her husband, Sir George. After all, he has been down at Brighton doing whatever one does with troops for months.’
There was a slight pause while she drank more lemonade and Antonia’s imagination ran riot. ‘Naturally, I assumed that, if I were to invite him to Brightshill to join our house party, this would lift Lady Reed’s spirits.’
‘A natural, and most thoughtful, assumption,’ Antonia said, straight-faced, commendably concealing her bitter amusement at the thought of Claudia pining for anyone but Marcus.
‘Well, I thought so. So I wrote to him. But my brother seems most put out.’
‘I wonder why.’
‘I cannot conceive.’ Both ladies sipped their lemonade thoughtfully. ‘And as for Claudia, why, she was positively petulant. And the wretched man is arriving tomorrow and my husband is no help whatsoever, just keeps saying that he cannot see what the problem is.’
‘But how can I help?’ Antonia asked This reported reaction only confirmed her belief that Marcus was still hopelessly entangled in Claudia’s lures. The husband would be a complication he did not want. Poor man, serving his King and country in the army while behind his back his wife… She shut the picture from her mind.
Lady Anne smoothed her skirts. ‘The first dinner will be a very awkward affair, I fear, and I thought to myself, how could I dilute the mix? I felt I could confide in you because you know everyone, and are such delightful company. I know it is a lot to ask, but if you could just help me smooth the path, I would be so grateful. Sir John and Mr Leigh were only saying over breakfast how long it seemed since you were last at Brightshill….’ She broke off, regarding Antonia with a ruefully apologetic smile.
Antonia felt torn. She wanted to see Marcus, be with him, yet she knew it would be painful and humiliating to see him anywhere near that woman. On the other hand, an ignoble spirit of revenge prompted her to witness the lovers’ discomfiture when Sir George arrived. And, setting all other considerations aside, she liked Marcus’s sister and wanted to help her.
‘Lady Anne, of course, I will help in any way I can. When do you expect Sir George to arrive?’
‘Late this afternoon,’ Anne confessed. ‘That is probably why Marcus is so cross with me – l did rather spring it upon him. Oh, and I do hope Miss Donaldson will be able to join us.’
‘l am afraid she will not. She is already engaged this evening at Rye End Hall at a small whist party. Sir Josiah and Lady Finch have an elderly relative staying who is addicted to the game and Donna is to make up the four.’
‘What a pity. Never mind, I will end the carriage for you at seven o’clock.’
Antonia dressed for the evening with great care, knowing that in any display of feminine charms Claudia Reed would win hands down. She possessed a wardrobe created expressly to exhibit her lures while all Antonia could do was to appear elegant and cool. She chose her newest gown in a shimmering celadon green silk, cut with total simplicity, and ornamented only with a gauze scarf of silver thread that matched her slippers.
Donna, in a fuss because Antonia was attending a party without her, helped secure her dark curls high on her head with pearl pins so that the tendrils just brushed the tops of her ears.
‘Do not forget your fan.’ Donna hurried after her down the stairs as the carriage was waiting at the door. ‘It is so very close, I fear we will have a storm later tonight.’ At the front door she added, low-voiced, ‘And do make certain you are never alone with that wicked man!’
Brightshill shone eerily in the purplish light of the approaching storm, lightning already forking through the sky far off over the Vale. The carriage horses shifted uneasily as the coachman reined in at the front door while the footman let down the steps to help Antonia alight.
She was conscious of nerves as she stepped into the hall to be greeted by Mead the butler but, as he opened the double doors and she walked into the brightly lit salon, she felt her apprehension start to dissipate. She supposed, greeting her hostess and Lord Meredith, that it was like soldiers going into battle, once committed to action, it was strangely calming.
Antonia made her way through the salon, exchanging smiles and greetings with Sir John and Mr Leigh, stopping to exchange a few words with Miss Fitch, who blushed prettily at the attention.
At length, her circuit of the room brought her face to face with Marcus, who was standing before the empty grate, one foot on the brass fender rail. He straightened as she approached and bowed over her hand, but not fast enough for Antonia to miss the gleam of, presumably reluctant, appreciation in his dark eyes as he took in her appearance.
‘You are in great beauty tonight, Miss Dane,’ he observed dispassionately. There was genuine admiration there, but an undercurrent of suppressed anger too. She was not forgiven.
Antonia looked into his eyes and caught her breath with a shock of love and longing. She wanted to reach out and touch his hair, smooth out the tension that only she could discern in the taut skin over his high cheekbones and caress the lips that had kissed her so thrillingly only the night before.
Instead, she looked at Claudia Reed sitting close to him and hardened her heart. No, she would not let herself be hurt by a man who continued his liaison with such a woman, so blatantly, so cruelly.
‘Is Mr Blake not with you?’ Marcus’s voice recalled her attention.
‘Mr Blake? Why, no. Were you expecting him?’
‘I expected you to be accompanied by your fiancé.’
‘My fiancé? Why, Your Grace, I am not engaged to be married to anyone.’ She widened her eyes innocently. ‘You must have dreamt it. The moonlight has such a strange effect, do you not find?’
Marcus’s lips narrowed and his eyes sparked with unshielded emotion. Antonia found her wrist gripped none too gently as he pulled her closer to his side. ‘Do not toy with me, Antonia. Are you telling me Blake lied to me last night?’
'Last night? I cannot imagine to what you refer, Your Grace. I was in bed last night.’
She gasped as his fingers tightened and he bent his head so close to hers that she felt his breath on her mouth.
‘Last night, madam, you were in my arms on the riverbank and, if that fool Blake had not blundered in, I would have made you mine.’ His eyes glittered and Antonia was seized with the wild thought that he would take her in his arms, stride out into the night and complete his seduction there and then.
‘Marcus, do not monopolise Miss Dane, you have all evening to talk to her.’ Lady Anne advanced across the Chinese carpet towards them, ‘And here is Sir George just come down. Antonia, allow me to make him known to you.’
Colonel Sir George Reed was a sad disappointment to Antonia who had imagined a distinguished military man of impeccable bearing, nobly sacrificing hearth and home for duty. Instead, the man who took her hand in his damp grasp reminded her of no one more than the Duke of York. Portly, the red veins of his cheeks competing with the scarlet of his dress uniform jacket, and with a lecherous eye to match that of the Prince Regent’s brother, he bent over her hand.
For a moment, as he held fast to her fingers, Antonia felt a stab of sympathy for Claudia. Faced with such a husband, who would not turn to another man for consolation, especially if the other man was Marcus?
Sir George’s corsets creaked as he straightened up from planting a kiss on Antonia’s gloved hand and she had a struggle to repress a giggle. To her alarm, he tucked her hand under his arm and announced, ‘Now, my dear, you must allow me to take a little promenade up and down the room while I learn all about you.’
Antonia shot a glance of startled entreaty towards Marcus, which he met with a stony gaze. Claudia, on the other hand, smiled vixen-like from her chaise longue as her husband, perspiring profusely from the combination of tight stays and the intense heat, passed by.
‘Now, do not allow Miss Dane to tire you, Georgie darling,’ she called sweetly, bringing a flush to Antonia’s cheeks.
But Antonia was far more exercised preventing Georgie darling’s straying fingers from inching any further up her arm towards the underswell of her breast. It took all her social grace not to shake him off and slap his face. Instead, she drew herself up stiffly and away from him and enquired in a voice of frigid formality if the drive from Brighton had been free of incident.
‘Tiresome, tiresome, my dear, but nothing which cannot be forgotten in the face of your beauty,’ he wheezed enthusiastically. Mercifully Lady Anne appeared and begged Sir George to permit her to take Miss Dane to admire the new hangings in the study.
The two ladies shut the door of the study behind themselves and gazed at each other. It was difficult to tell which was the more horrified, and almost together they said, ‘Beastly man…’
‘My dear Miss Dane, I cannot apologise enough. Had I known what he was like I would never have invited him! No wonder Marcus was so angry with me. And the Reeds obviously loathe one another. My dear, you must not leave my side for an instant. Fortunately he has shown not the slightest interest in Sophia, she is far too young for his taste, thank goodness.’ Lady Anne subsided into a chair and fanned her flushed cheeks.
‘What is the seating plan for dinner?’ Antonia asked, seized with a sudden alarming thought.
'Oh, my heavens.' Lady Anne jumped up. 'I must see Mead at once, for I fear I have placed Sir George next to you…’ She hastened from the room, leaving Antonia to divert her thoughts by admiring the handsome cut-velvet draperies at the windows. They changed the aspect of the room somewhat from that cool day in March when she had been dragged unceremoniously into Marcus’s presence, accused of poaching.
She ran her fingers over the arm of the carved chair in which she had been sitting when he had kissed her for the first time. The warmth of that recollection was rudely interrupted by a kiss of a very different kind: the pressure of wet lips on her bare shoulder.
Antonia spun round with a small shriek of outrage to find herself pinned against the desk by the rotund and lascivious figure of Colonel Sir George Reed. ‘Alone at last,’ he announced with undisguised satisfaction.
‘No, leave me be,’ Antonia gasped, wriggling away.
‘No need to pretend now. My wife told me you were a bit of a goer, a game pullet.’ He opened his arms as if to envelop her. ‘Good of our hostess to make this room available, what? Thought she was a bit starched up at first, but I was wrong.’
‘Sir George, I believe your wife is looking for you.’
Marcus’s voice dripped ice. Antonia, glimpsing his set face over the gold braid of the Colonel’s shoulder, thought she had never been so glad to see him.
Sir George swung round with an oath, but clearly failed to read the danger signals in his host’s face. ‘Damn it, Allington, no need to spoil sport. After all, you’ve got Claudia to amuse you.’
‘Sir, if you cannot take a hint, I may be forced to make my meaning more plain. I do not wish to embarrass Lady Reed, a guest in my house, by calling out her husband, but if you persist in annoying Miss Dane, you leave me no choice.’
Sir George’s face purpled, but he straightened his scarlet coat and barged out of the room without a word.
‘Nauseating man.’ Antonia felt sick with reaction. ‘He is really quite beyond the pale.’
‘Then why were you foolish enough to permit yourself to be alone with him in here?’ Marcus demanded curtly.
‘I did not invite him here, I came in here to escape from his lecherous pawings, but it appears that his beloved wife had told him that I might welcome his repellent advances.’ She stamped her foot with anger. ‘And if you had been half the man I thought you were, you would have called him out when he did not apologise to me. But oh, no! That might embarrass dear Claudia, and we would not want to embarrass her, would we? Tell me, Marcus, just what lengths would he have to go to for you to challenge him?’
Marcus’s face was cold, with all the old arrogance back in his eyes. ‘The man is old enough to be my father, and a guest under my roof.’
‘And his wife is your mistress! And we do not want to alienate him, do we? He might stop being quite so complaisant and take her away. You disgust me, the three of you.’ Antonia turned her face away, wishing she could bury it in the velvet drapes and burst into tears.
‘There you both are.’ Lady Anne swept into the room, beaming to see them both together. Her smile froze as she took in their expressions. ‘l came to tell you that Mead has announced dinner. Marcus, will you take Miss Dane in?’
Antonia met his eyes, daring him to refuse, but instead he said politely, ‘Miss Dane?’ She took his proffered arm and allowed herself to be escorted into the glittering dining room.
Lady Anne, deprived of a fifth lady by Donna’s absence and forced to rearrange her table hastily by Sir George’s behaviour, had none the less managed a reasonable disposition of her guests.
Marcus, at the head of the long board, faced his sister, who was flanked by Sir George and Sir John Ollard. With Mr Leigh on Sir George’s right, Anne had safely isolated the Colonel from both his wife and Antonia. Miss Fitch had brightened considerably at finding herself opposite Mr Leigh and next to the paternal Lord Meredith.
That left Antonia and Claudia on either side of Anne’s brother. Antonia saw him catch his sister’s gaze down the length of the gleaming table, heavy with plate and crystal. He raised his glass in a salute to her and Anne smiled back. What is that about?
Antonia sipped the champagne Mead poured for her, relishing its coolness, the burst of bubbles in her mouth. Normally she would make one glass of wine last all evening, but tonight she scarcely noticed that her glass was being refilled again, and then again, as the fish dishes were removed with entrées and roasts.
The long windows had been thrown open to the warm evening air and the scent of beeswax, perfumes and food mingled headily. Marcus was being meticulous in his behaviour towards Claudia, maintaining a polite dialogue about trivialities and showing none of the ennui he would normally display at such chatter. But however attentive, he was not flirting and seemed impervious to her coquettish looks and teasing jibes.
Antonia chatted comfortably with Lord Meredith but, when he turned politely to engage Miss Fitch in conversation, she found it difficult to talk to, or even to look at Marcus. She was acutely aware of him, of the Russian Leather cologne he used, of his long fingers as they played on the stem of his glass. She wanted them running up and down her throat, caressing her nape.
Antonia pulled herself together with a start and took a long mouthful of wine. The effect made her blink with the horrified recognition that she had drunk rather too much.
‘Your Grace.’ Claudia managed to make the formal title sound like the most intimate endearment. ‘Please will you help me to just the tiniest morsel more of that lobster? It is so delicious.’
‘And matches your dress so perfectly,’ Antonia observed and then had to slap her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. She looked sideways under her lashes and saw Marcus bite his lip as he served Claudia. It was as much as Antonia could do not to burst into laughter at the sight of her rival’s cheeks, flushed with anger, as pink as the boiled crustacean.
‘How brave of you, Miss Dane, to wear such a very trying shade of green,’ Claudia responded acidly. ‘One so rarely sees it without feeling depressed, although Lady Jersey, I suppose, has the style to carry it off.’
‘Well, I wear it a good deal, but I can quite see that on an older woman with a faded complexion it could be difficult to manage.’ Antonia took another sip of wine and continued smoothly, ‘Unless, of course, she used a lot of rouge.’
Marcus lifted his table napkin as though to cover his entire lower face while Claudia had gone so pale with anger that her rouge stood out in circles on her cheeks. She took a deep breath, causing a spectacular uplift of her breasts in the low-cut gown.
Antonia, beyond discretion, watched more closely. From the movement of Claudia’s shoulders she had put her hand on Marcus’s thigh.
Marcus turned his head sharply to meet Claudia’s hooded gaze, then he too moved, clearly replacing her hand firmly in her own lap.
Antonia realised that she was tired of behaving like the well-bred virgin she was. If she wanted Marcus – and with the wine coursing through her, she knew she wanted nothing more in the world – then she would have to fight for him.