‘Now, let us set to partners,’ Lord Meredith exclaimed, tearing open the seal on the first pack of cards. ‘Miss Donaldson, do you care to play?’
‘Well, my lord, I must confess a distinct partiality for whist,’ Donna admitted.
Antonia laughed. ‘I warn you, Lord Meredith, she is a demon player.’
‘In that case,’ Lady Anne declared, ‘I shall claim Miss Donaldson for my partner.
’
‘Then I will partner you, Meredith,’ Sir John offered. ‘Unless either of you ladies, or you, Renshaw, wish to take my place. No? Very well then, Meredith, I am with you and we must hope the ladies will be gentle with us!’
Antonia moved to a sofa where she could listen to the music and watch the card players. Lady Reed, sighing heavily, drifted off to the other end of the room where she posed decoratively against a table and began to turn over the pages of an album of engravings.
Marcus was turning towards Antonia when his sister called to him. ‘Marcus, I need you. This hand is beyond everything and if I do not have your assistance, I must throw it in immediately.’
To cries of ‘Unfair!’ from the other men, Marcus pulled up a chair and settled at his sister’s side.
Antonia sat, the intricate melody on the edges of her consciousness, her eyes on Marcus as he teased his sister, dropping his head into his hands as she played a disastrous card. He was totally natural and at ease, his good humour and his affection for his sister evident.
Antonia had known in her heart for some time that she was in love with him, but seeing him like this, all his coldness and arrogance gone, she realised she liked him very much as well. And she could not deny that she could imagine herself mistress of Brightshill.
She sat there, warmed by her thoughts, dreaming a little, unheeding of time until she was brought back to the present by laughter at the card table.
Lord Meredith was totalling points and saying teasingly to his wife, ‘My dear, you and I will play the next rubber together and permit Miss Donaldson a partner more worthy of her skills.’
The table broke up and resettled itself amid Donna’s laughing protests. Marcus got to his feet and strolled over to the sofa where Antonia sat.
‘Antonia, I feel in need of some fresh air. Will you join me on the terrace? It is quite warm out.’
‘Yes, I would like that.’ She looked up into his face, meeting his gaze frankly. She saw his face change, soften, as he extended his hand to lead her towards the long windows, which were open on to the balmy night. He helped her across the low threshold then, when they were both standing on the flagstones, tucked her hand under his elbow and strolled towards the balustrade.
Antonia watched their shadows precede them across the terrace, lengthening as the light diminished behind them. Her heart beat strong but steady and her certainty grew that Marcus would take her in his arms as soon as they were out of view.
He led her round the corner of the terrace, into the moonlight that bathed the garden. Moths fluttered around and the perfume of night-scented stock hung heavy on the warm air. Neither of them spoke. Antonia rested her hands on the cool roughness of the stone balustrade, quite content to wait for what would come.
The fine cloth of Marcus’s sleeve brushed against her arm, and she was so aware of him that it felt like his touch. After a long moment, he put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. Antonia tipped up her face trustingly, inviting his lips. When the kiss came she returned it with ardour, melting into his embrace.
She was very conscious of his body hard against hers, of his breathing, of his desire for her. Finally he freed her mouth and looked down at her. His face was shadowed, but she could still read the question in his eyes.
‘Yes, Marcus,’ she said simply.
‘Yes?’
‘I will be your wife.’ She loved him, he desired her. It was enough to build on. It had to be.
He raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. ‘You have made me a happy man.’ It seemed as if he were about to claim her lips again, but he checked himself, glancing over her shoulder towards the house. ‘We had best rejoin the others, I do not want our absence remarked upon.’
Despite her happiness, Antonia felt a tiny chill at his correctness, his formality. She wanted him to sweep her up, cover her face with kisses, say how much he loved her…
As they rounded the corner of the terrace, Antonia glimpsed a figure slip back through the far windows and recognised Claudia’s flounced skirts.
Perhaps that was why he was being so restrained, he wanted to protect her from Lady Reed’s acid tongue. There was time enough to talk of love when they could be sure they were alone.
Antonia felt she was floating across the threshold, hardly needing Marcus’s guiding hand on her arm. She was so suffused with happiness that she was sure everyone in the room would be aware of it the moment they looked at them. It seemed they had been gone for hours, yet the card game was still in progress, Miss Fitch was still playing her pretty airs on the pianoforte and the clock on the mantel was just chiming eleven.
‘Shall we tell them now?’ Marcus whispered in her ear.
‘Oh, yes, I want everyone to share in our happiness,’ she murmured back.