Marcus pressed her hand, gazing deep into her eyes. His look promised so much that her breath caught in her throat. He glanced round the room at his friends, who were now looking towards them, perhaps wondering what they were doing, arm in arm. He opened his mouth to speak, then there was a quavering cry.
‘Ohh...’ On the chaise-longue, Lady Reed raised a trembling hand to her brow, moaned again, and slid gracefully from the low silk seat to the carpet where she lay motionless.
There was a general rush to her side. Lady Anne was there first, kneeling on the carpet, her hand under Claudia Reed’s head. Donna knelt beside her on the other side, chafing one limp hand between her own capable ones.
‘My dear,’ Lady Anne commanded over her shoulder to her husband who stood behind her, ‘Kindly ring for Mead. I fear we may need to call for the doctor, and we must certainly have her woman here.’
‘I shall do it, ma’am.’ Sir John strode to the fireplace and tugged hard at the bell pull.
Miss Fitch had started up from the piano stool in alarm and now stood, hand to her mouth, almost as pale as Lady Reed.
Antonia crossed to Mr Leigh. ‘See to Miss Fitch, or we will have another patient on our hands. Why not take her out on to the terrace? The fresh air will revive her.’
‘Willingly, Miss Dane, but do you think it entirely proper that I should do so in the absence of her chaperone?’
‘Goodness, yes.’ Antonia was losing patience with such a backward lover. ‘I can see perfectly well from here if you just step outside the window.’ She gave him a little push and he put one arm protectively around Sophia and ushered her out onto the terrace.
Marcus had stepped across to speak to the butler, who turned and hurried from the room to summon a footman. Antonia cast a tolerant glance at the young people outside before strolling across to the chaise longue.
She felt no great concern for Lady Reed, convinced she was merely playacting, but, standing next to Lord Meredith and looking down at the prone figure, she began to have doubts for the first time.
Claudia was certainly pale, her body limp, her mouth a little open. She was lying in what must have been an exquisitely uncomfortable position without a sign of movement and appeared unresponsive to Lady Anne’s ministrations. ‘Oh, she is very convincing,’ Antonia muttered to herself, not quite under her breath.
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am? Did you speak?’ She had forgotten Lord Meredith at her side.
‘I said, “I fear she is sinking”,’ Antonia extemporised hastily. ‘Where can her maid be?’
As she spoke the woman hurried into the salon, vinaigrette in hand, and bent over her mistress to administer the smelling salts. Despite the strength of the vapour the only effect was a low moan and a brief fluttering of eyelids before they closed again. But Antonia, watching closely, caught the swift, assessing glance around the tableau of helpers that Claudia made in that moment.
She was looking to see where Marcus was, the devious baggage. All this was a device to divert his attention from Antonia. Well, we will see about that, Antonia thought grimly. ‘Oh, dear,’ she declared out loud in a voice of deep concern, ‘I fear such a long lasting swoon will be injurious to her health. We must revive her.’
As she spoke, she picked up a glass of water from the table that had been placed beside Lady Anne as she sat at cards. With one swift movement, she dashed it into the face of the prone woman.
With a shriek Lady Reed sat up so swiftly she almost overturned the women kneeling beside her. Her mouth opened and closed with shocked outrage as the water trickled down her face, turning her blonde curls into rats’ tails and sending the cunningly-applied lamp black on her lashes running down her cheeks.
‘You… you…’ she spluttered, turning furious blue eyes on Antonia.
‘No, do not thank me, I am only relieved that my actions have restored your senses,’ Antonia assured her earnestly.
The men had tactfully turned away and Anne Meredith and Donna, assisted by the maid, helped Claudia to the chaise. Donna glanced up, catching Antonia’s eye, her expression a mixture of amusement and censure.
The maid began mopping her mistress’s cheeks. When Lady Reed saw the black staining the cloth, she gave another shriek and demanded to be taken to her chamber.
‘Give me your arm, you stupid girl,’ she railed at the unfortunate maid. She stumbled from the room, Lady Anne in attendance, leaving a stunned silence behind her.
‘Poor gel,’ Sir John Ollard commiserated clumsily after a moment. ‘Quite understandable, though, that she should swoon. It is a devilish close night. Very quick thinking on your part, Miss Dane, I have to confess I was becoming anxious myself.’
Antonia, who by this time was feeling thoroughly ashamed of herself, glanced uneasily at Marcus. His face was impassive as he tugged on the bell pull again, but Antonia thought she could detect a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips.
Mead appeared with his usual quiet calm. ‘Your Grace?’
‘Please ascertain from Lady Anne whether she requires you to send for Dr Rush.’
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‘I have already done so, Your Grace, and James has taken the gig to collect him.’
Antonia’s conscience was still pricking her. ‘Does Lady Anne require any assistance, do you know, Mead?’