Mr Blake arrived at the appointed time, but Donna was not downstairs to admire the gig and the bay gelding he was lending them. She was still in her chamber, dithering over the choice between her three decent day gowns, a most uncharacteristic way for her to carry on.
Antonia had not needed to dither. She was sensibly dressed for driving in a pale fawn muslin gown with jonquil braid about the hem and a compact bonnet shading her eyes. She pulled on a pair of tan gloves and called
up the stairs, ‘l am leaving now, Donna. I will see you later, please give Lady Finch my regards.’
‘Where would you like to go, Miss Dane?’ Jeremy enquired as he handed her up into the little carriage and gathered up the reins. ‘It is a very warm day, and the flies are so bad in the park, I wondered if you would care to drive out onto the Downs. There will be a breeze and a fine view and I found a trackway the other day where you can take the reins without fear of other traffic.’
‘That would be delightful,’ Antonia agreed. ‘I think I know where you mean, and I had intended to go there myself one day, but the weather has turned far too hot for such a long walk.’
‘You would not consider such a distance on foot, surely?’ Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up as he turned left into the lane. ‘It is all of three miles in each direction. You are a most energetic walker, Miss Dane, if you considered such an expedition.’
‘Why so surprised, Mr Blake? Did you think me a drawing room miss who would never deign to do more than stroll around a pleasure garden? I must confess to enjoying vigorous exercise. Why, if I thought Donna would permit it, I would even dig the garden.’
‘I never thought you a conventional young lady, Miss Dane. Making your acquaintance over the past few weeks has convinced me that you are quite out of the ordinary. Ah, here is the start of the track. Would you care to take the reins now?’
‘Yes, please. I have been observing how you handle them and I believe I can manage, if he only walks to start with.’
Jeremy pulled up and transferred the reins into Antonia’s hands. ‘It is not so very different to riding when you are driving only one horse, more complicated with a pair, of course. Yes, you have got it just right.’ There was a fleeting pressure of reassurance from his fingers through the leather of her gloves.
Antonia clicked her tongue and shook the reins and the gelding walked docilely forward, little puffs of chalky dust rising as his hooves struck the hard ground.
The hot air was full of the vanilla scent of gorse blossom. Overhead larks sang and spiralled out of sight in the cloudless blue sky and Chalk Blue and Fritillary butterflies danced away from the horse’s progress.
The track rose gradually as they climbed to the top of the Downs and Antonia’s spirits lifted with their progress and the intoxicating feeling of freedom. As they came out onto the short cropped grass and saw the view of the whole Vale stretched out before them, still and shimmering in the heat, she reined in instinctively.
‘That is very good,’ Jeremy encouraged. ‘You have a very light hand on his mouth – see how well he responds to you. I do believe you are ready to trot.’
‘Let’s just stay here a moment,’ Antonia said. ‘It is so lovely, so wide and open and the breeze is fresh. When I am here I do not miss London one jot.’
‘You must have many friends and acquaintances in Town who miss you,’ he said gallantly.
‘We had a wide circle of acquaintances when I lived with my great-aunt,’ Antonia agreed. ‘But it was quite remarkable how quickly they fell away when we had to move to less fashionable lodgings.’
She turned to look at him, suddenly ready to confide. ‘l will not attempt to hide the truth from someone who knows our circumstances as well as you. After the death of my father, we were in very straitened circumstances.’
There was a small silence as they both gazed across the tranquil vista beneath them, then Jeremy spoke carefully. ‘I will be equally frank and say I much admire the courageous way in which you have retrieved your fortunes.’ He seemed to catch his breath as thought to continue, but all he said was, ‘Now, shall we try trotting?’
The bay responded to Antonia’s tentative signals with a brisk trot, and Jeremy put a restraining hand on her wrist as the stride lengthened.
There was a fine stand of perhaps a dozen beeches ahead, casting a broad swathe of shade over the turf. ‘The track goes around that copse,’ he directed. ‘Try taking the bend at a steady trot. You are doing so well on the straight, it should give you no trouble.’
As they rounded the curve, they found themselves almost on top of a picnic party assembled under the shade. There was a welcoming cry of, ‘Miss Dane! Please stop and join us,’ and Antonia recognised Anne Meredith waving from a rug spread on the grass.
‘It is the house party from Brightshill.’ How very awkward. But she could hardly snub them and drive on. ‘Do you have any objection to our stopping a while, Mr Blake?’
‘Not at all, although you must introduce me, for I know only the Duke in the party.’
The picnickers had apparently arrived in several open carriages, which were drawn up some little distance away. As Antonia turned the bay’s head towards the group, a groom hurried down to take its head.
The picnic party had thrown all formality to the wind in the heat of the day. The gentlemen had taken off their coats and loosened their neck cloths and the ladies were reclining languidly against heaps of cushions on the ground. Only the children were unaffected and were playing hide and seek in the bushes, sunhats bouncing on the ends of their ribbons despite pleas from their mother to cover their heads.
Marcus, who had been lying stretched out at his sister’s feet, a book open in one hand, his chin propped on the other, dropped the volume and got to his feet.
Antonia swallowed hard and fought for composure as he strolled towards them. They had last met, and parted, in anger, but her feelings for him still burned as strong as ever. Marcus’s eyes were fixed on her face and she lowered her chin so that the brim of her hat shadowed her expression.
The glimpse of bare skin where his shirt fell open, the play of muscles as he walked, the sun glancing off that tawny head, all conspired to rob her of her breath, of her senses. She remembered that last puzzling kiss and yearned for the feel of his lips again.
This is madness. She had made her decision, rejected him. Where was her pride that she could long for him like this, knowing what his relationship was with Claudia Reed? Antonia made no effort to free herself from Jeremy’s light grasp on her elbow. Let Marcus think what he might.