Antonia was shaken into honesty by the old lady’s directness. ‘Marcus Renshaw, the Duke of Allington.’
‘Allington, eh?’ A mischievous glint lit Lady Granger’s eyes. ‘And is he as handsome a dog as his grandfather, I wonder? Now there was a man with a fine leg in a pair of satin knee breeches. A man with a true damn-your-eyes attitude to life!’ She cackled reminiscently. ‘I nearly married him, but he was too much a rakehell, even for me.’
'His grandson is handsome, right enough,’ Antonia admitted ruefully. ‘And arrogant, and a rake.’
‘And you love him, I suppose?’
‘Yes.’ Antonia admitted.
The old lady held up an admonishing finger. ‘Do not dare cry, girl. Remember who you are and keep your pride. They are none of them worth a single tear, and I should know.’
Antonia bit her lip. ‘I am not crying over him.’ She was beginning to believe the rumours she had heard about her great-aunt: that she had been a great beauty, the mistress of powerful men, even, it was hinted, one of the highest in the land.
The bright gaze suddenly froze on her face. ‘Why have you run away, girl? Has he been playing fast and loose with you? Have you permitted him any liberties? I recall Edmund Renshaw and his winning ways with the ladies. If his grandson has seduced you, he will find himself down the aisle before the week is out, if I have to take a shotgun to him myself.’
‘No,’ Antonia denied, blushing hotly, remembering how close she had come to yielding to the urging of his hard body on the riverbank that night, remembering her responses to his mouth on hers in the conservatory.
‘Indeed, miss!’ Great-Aunt took a sip of her brandy and fell silent as Mrs Hodge brought in a light meal, laid the table and departed with a curtsy.
She brooded quietly as Antonia ate, then, when she finally pushed away the plate, asked, ‘What is the matter then, that you have come to me?’
‘He does not love me and I cannot bear to be near him and his mistress a moment longer,’ Antonia admitted, getting to her feet and crossing to the window to look out on the street below. It was full dark now, except for the lanterns at each doorway.
‘Keeping a mistress, is he? Clumsy fool to let you know. Young men these days are losing their finesse. His grandfather would never have paraded his fancy piece in front of a girl he was courting. Has he made you any sort of declaration?’
‘He has proposed marriage and I have refused.’
‘Glad to hear you have that much spirit, my girl. And I am glad you had the sense to come to me although, with the Season over, Town is thin of company.’ Lady Granger mused for a while. ‘Difficult to think of an available man who might take your mind off that rake. Marcus Renshaw is very eligible,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I doubt you will ever make such a good catch again, but the important thing is that you are happy.
‘Come back and sit by me, child. You may stay as long as you wish, we will be comfortable together.’
Antonia put her head in the old lady’s lap and felt her hair being gently stroked. She shut her eyes and let the wise voice wash over her. ‘You will forget him in time, child. You are young and beautiful and bright and there are plenty more fish in the sea.’
The following morning brought Hewitt and his younger brother Clarence, accompanied by his wife of a few months who, Antonia decided after the briefest of acquaintances, was a total ninny.
The ladies had scarcely finished their breakfast when the knocker sounded their arrival. Lady Granger was not pleased at the early interruption. ‘What I have done to deserve such fools for grandsons I do not know,’ she confided to Antonia, not bothering to keep her voice down. ‘Neither of them has a thought in his head, but that does not stop them sticking their beaks into my business at every turn.’
The unbecoming mottling of Hewitt’s complexion showed he had heard at least part of this condemnation, but he swallowed his anger, bustling forward to kiss his grandmother’s hand and enquire condescendingly after her health. Clarence followed his elder brother. Although two years separated them, they were as alike as twins with their florid complexions and bulky figures.
Clarence turned to his cousin and presented his wife with the air of a man showing off a rare jewel. Emilia Granger was at least ten years younger than her husband. She was blonde and fluffy and simpered up at Clarence, who swelled with pride at the blatant adoration in the shallow blue eyes.
Antonia marvelled that any woman could regard her cousin with adoration until Mrs Granger opened her mouth. ‘Have you been in London before, Miss Dane? Oh, yes, silly me, I quite forgot. Clarence told me you used to live here. Oh, dear, I am a goose!’ She giggled inanely, a noise not unlike a guinea fowl at its most irritating, and prattled on. ‘We are just a little early, are we not? But dear brother Hewitt was so set on visiting. He said last night…’
Even a woman as stupid as she could not fail to recognise the fury with which her brother-in-law was regarding her. Emilia flushed unbecomingly and subsided into silence. Hewitt glowered at her until he was certain she would prattle no more and turned his attention once more to Antonia.
Antonia, catching his eye, shifted uncomfortably and moved closer to her great-aunt, who was snapping at her visitors, ‘Sit down, sit down. Do not hover about like a flock of pigeons. What do you want, Hewitt? You were only here last evening.’
Emilia, clearly scared out of her remaining wits by this terrifying old lady, squeaked and dropped her reticule. The contents fell out and she scrabbled at her feet to pick them up, her cheeks scarlet. The two men sat firmly, one at each end of the sofa opposite their grandmother.
‘Ha! Like a pair of bookends, and with as much sense between you,’ Lady Granger snorted.
A moment of silence followed. Clarence finally broke it by clearing his throat. ‘Well, Grandmama.’ He fiddled with his neck cloth. ‘Sensible as we all are of your weakened condition and mindful that your doctor has prescribed rest…’
‘Poppycock. I have dismissed the old fool, as well you know. Young Dr Hardcastle – it does me good just to see his handsome face – stands for none of that nonsense.’
‘Be that as it may, Grandmama,’ Clarence continued gamely, ‘We were concerned that our cousin’s presence might fatigue you. So we have come to offer her accommodation with us. For the week or two you are in London, Coz,’ he added, turning to Antonia.
‘She stays here,’ the old lady snapped, causing another spasm of fright to shake Emilia’s thin frame.
‘And I intend to stay for quite some time – months, in fact. So, of course, I could not possibly impose on you in Wimpole Street.’ Antonia smiled sweetly at Emilia. ‘And I could not possibly intrude into the household of a newly married couple.’ Mrs Granger was so discommoded that she dropped her reticule again.
‘Fool of a woman,’ Great-Aunt muttered quite audibly, then, raising her voice, added, ‘We have all the dress shops to visit as Antonia needs a complete change of wardrobe. I fully intend to buy all the latest novels and volumes of poetry so we may read together. And, of course, we must get out of London soon. Bath, perhaps, or Brighton. What think you, Hewitt? Only a house in the best area, of course, and at this short notice it will no doubt cost a pretty penny. But there, I cannot take it with me, can I?’
Hewitt had raised a hand to cover his eyes and was murmuring gently to himself. Antonia thought she caught the words, ‘The money, the money…’
Lady Granger tugged the bell-pull at her side. ‘Well, you may all remain here if you wish, but we were about to go out. Antonia, did I mention last night that I intend to take my diamond set to Garrard’s to be cleaned and reset for you? We can do that on the way to the modiste’s.’ Having thus completed Hewitt’s anguish, she smiled benignly on her grandsons and, leaning on Antonia’s arm, crossed the room slowly but steadily.
Antonia was surprised to discover, when they sat down later to luncheon, how effective a good shopping spree was in keeping a broken heart at bay. Her mind still flinched from thinking of Marcus, but her spirits were lighter and she found she could look forward to the next few weeks with pleasant anticipation. At least she need not be constantly anxious that she would meet him.
‘I must go and lie down for a while,’ Great-Aunt announced. ‘No, no, I am not fatigued.’ She waved aside Antonia's concern. ‘Dr Hardcastle has told me to conserve my energies. Why not take a walk in the park? Or would you prefer one of the grooms to drive you?’
‘Thank you, Great-Aunt, but I think I will walk. I have grown used to covering some distances since I have been in Hertfordshire and I confess I miss the exercise.’ Antonia dropped a kiss on the dry, papery cheek and went upstairs to put on her bonnet and pelisse.
With one of the maids at her heels, Antonia set off briskly towards Hyde Park. Green Park was closer, but the more open expanses of the larger park beckoned and the afternoon was pleasantly sunny with a light breeze.
Antonia had an enjoyable walk, wandering further than she had intended. She finally turned for home, much to the relief of Julia the maid, who was not used to lengthy excursions of this sort, judging by the increasing number of sighs from her direction. A particularly gusty sigh distracted Antonia, she slipped on a tussock and turned her ankle painfully.
‘Oh, Miss Antonia, are you all right, Miss?’ Julia’s face was anxious as Antonia grimaced and rubbed the side of her kid boot.
‘Ow! That was a nasty wrench, but I do not think it is sprained.’ She placed her foot gingerly to the ground and winced. ‘I shall manage well enough if I lean on your arm, Julia.’
The two of them had begun their slow progress homewards when there was the sound of carriage wheels behind them and a cry of, ‘Cousin! What has befallen you?’ Antonia turned to see Hewitt in a shiny curricle pulled by a showy bay.
‘l have turned my ankle, Hewitt, there is no cause for concern.’
Hewitt jumped down from the carriage. ‘But you must ride back with me, dear cousin, I insist.’
Antonia’s first instinct was to refuse, but the thought of hobbling conspicuously across the Park was not appealing and her ankle was now throbbing.
‘Thank you, Hewitt. Is there room for my maid?’
‘No!’ Hewitt looked appalled at the thought of having a maidservant in his new carriage.
‘Very well. Julia, I am afraid you will have to walk back to Half Moon Street.’
‘Hewitt, do take care,’ Antonia gasped two minutes later as Hewitt took a curve so close the carriage rocked. She suspected that he had chosen both horse and curricle for their showy looks rather than quality, and was not entirely certain he could control either.
‘If you are nervous I will slow down, one would not wish to frighten a lady.’ He reined back and leered at Antonia, who placed her parasol firmly on the seat between them.
Antonia averted her gaze from his face and began to talk of the magnificence of the shrubberies and the greenness of the grass despite the warm weather.
Her determined horticultural commentary was rudely interrupted by Hewitt. ‘That’s a damn fine bit of horseflesh.’
Antonia turned, but she had no need to follow her cousin’s pointing whip. The magnificent black stallion emerging at a controlled walk from one of the side paths was turning all heads in the vicinity. But after one glance, Antonia’s attention was riveted not on the horse but on the rider.
Marcus was controlling the spirited animal with one hand, the other at his hat brim acknowledging greetings from many of the passers-by.
‘Drive on, Hewitt,’ she demanded sharply, but her cousin had reined back almost to a standstill and was not listening. ‘Stop gawping, Hewitt, it is only a horse.’
What was Marcus doing here? It was only three days since that disastrous dinner party at Brightshill, now here he was riding through Hyde Park, as cool as a cucumber. One thing was clear, he had not followed her, for how could he know where she had gone after all the precautions she had taken to cover her steps?
Antonia’s heart was thudding in her chest so loudly she felt sure it would be audible to her cousin sitting alongside her. She could not take her eyes off Marcus, sitting erect in the saddle. His boots were burnished to the black sheen of the animal beneath him, his riding clothes were immaculate. His hair was caught by the slight breeze as he raised his hat and her fingers clenched against the desire to run her fingers through it.
‘It is Allington, is it not?’ Hewitt demanded. ‘I wonder if he would tell me where he got that animal?’
‘Please, Hewitt, take me home, my ankle is painful and I am sure it is swelling.’
‘What? Oh, sorry, Coz.’ Hewitt, recalled by her sharp voice, started and let his hands drop. The bay, feeling the lack of control, broke into a trot and the curricle lurched. Antonia, thrown off balance, gripped Hewitt’s arm with both hands and was still in that position when Marcus saw them.
He urged the stallion forward with the pressure of his knees and came alongside the curricle as Hewitt once more gained control.
Hewitt just managed to doff his hat without dropping either it or the reins. ‘Your Grace.’
‘You have the advantage of me, sir, no doubt Miss Dane will introduce us. Your servant, ma’am.’ He replaced his tall hat and raised one eyebrow. ‘I had not looked to find you here, Miss Dane.’
‘And indeed, why should you?’ Antonia retorted. She put her chin high and left her hand resting on her cousin’s arm. ‘Allow me to make known to you my cousin, Mr Granger. Hewett, the Duke of Allington.’
The gentlemen exchanged stiff half-bows. Hewitt patted Antonia’s hand proprietorially.
Marcus’s face showed nothing but the bland amiability of a gentleman introduced to a new, boring, acquaintance but Antonia, knowing him so well, was aware of a watchfulness in his eyes. Some devil in her made her lay her free hand on top of Hewitt’s. ‘You will forgive us, Your Grace, but we have been out for some time and I am fatigued. Hewitt dear, take me home now.’
Marcus’s lip curved in an unpleasantly satirical smile. He did not believe a word of that, and Antonia knew it. ‘ln that case, ma’am, I would not detain you.’ To her chagrin Marcus tipped his hat once more and cantered off without asking for her direction. Not that I would have given it to him anyway.
Antonia was glad to descend from the carriage at her great-aunt’s house. The footman helped her down with care and she waved Hewitt goodbye as she limped up the steps on James’s arm. To her relief, her cousin showed no desire to accompany her into the house; she had been concerned that she had overdone things in the Park and that he would try and follow up her unexpected warmth. But no, she reassured herself, Hewitt was too stupid to notice.
The following morning her ankle was still stiff. Lady Granger, having failed to persuade her to allow her physician to examine it, had insisted that she spend the morning resting with it supported on a footstool. The old lady had driven out to visit an ailing acquaintance, promising to return in time for luncheon.
Antonia obediently settled down to read the latest volume of Lord Byron’s work. Many ladies would have considered it far too shocking for an unmarried girl to read, but Lady Granger had thoroughly enjoyed it and had no qualms in passing it to her niece.
Despite the disconcerting tendency of Marcus’s face to appear in her imagination every time she read a description of the hero, Antonia was engrossed in Manfred when Hodge threw the door open and announced, ‘Mr Granger, Miss Antonia.’
She groaned inwardly, wishing she had given instructions to Hodge that she was not at home. But then he would have denied all visitors…
Hewitt bustled across the room. ‘Dear Cousin. How is your afflicted, er...’ He boggled at naming part of a lady’s anatomy and finished lamely. ‘Injury?’
‘Much better, thank you, Cousin,’ Antonia said coolly. Why was he here? ‘Please, sit down and allow me to ring for some refreshment.’
Hewitt showed no inclination to sit, instead striking an attitude which displayed an inordinate amount of crimson silk waistcoat. ‘What a striking waistcoat,’ Antonia said weakly, eyeing the garment with horrid fascination. In combination with trousers in an assertive shade of canary yellow the whole ensemble this early in the morning made her feel quite bilious.
‘l knew you would admire it,’ he beamed. ‘l thought to myself, a woman of taste such as my cousin Antonia will admire this garment. In fact, I would go so far as to say I donned it especially for you.’ His expression was doubtless supposed to be a roguish twinkle, but it emerged more like a leer.
‘Really?’ Antonia was lost for words. She was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable and wished she could reach the bell-pull to summon Hodge.
Eyeing her even more warmly, Hewitt crashed to her side on one knee and seized her right hand in his damp grasp. ‘Miss Dane. Cousin. Antonia. Be mine, I beseech you! Say you will consent to be Mrs Hewitt Granger.’
Antonia stared down appalled at the head bent over her hand, then struggled to her feet with a painful lurch, attempting at the same time to extricate her fingers. Hewitt, misinterpreting her gesture, staggered to his feet and seized her in his arms manfully.
‘No,’ she cried as his lips descended inexorably towards her face, but the sound was muffled by Hewitt’s chest.
There was a discreet cough behind them and Hodge’s voice announced, ‘His Grace the Duke of Allington, Miss Dane.’