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 Gra
ce.’ 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.
Chapter Twenty
At the end of what must have seemed to their harassed hostess to be an interminable meal, Lady Anne at last stood up, gathering the attention of her female guests with a smile. ‘Ladies, shall we leave the gentlemen to their port?’
As she got somewhat unsteadily to her feet, Antonia bent and whispered in Marcus’s ear, ‘Meet me in the conservatory as soon as may be.’
In as dignified manner as she could, Antonia followed the other ladies out and found herself a seat. She looked around, hoping no-one would come and speak with her, at least until her head stopped spinning and she could work out exactly what she thought she was doing with that invitation just now.
Sophia Fitch perched nervously at one end of the chaise with Claudia on the other. Clearly the older woman had decided to amuse herself by patronising the little mouse. ‘Tell me, Miss Fitch, when are you going to announce your engagement to Mr Leigh? Such a worthy young man, I am sure. Does he have a patron? I suppose, coming from such an obscure family, he will need one.’
Antonia was about to leap to Sophia’s defence, but the girl, usually so shy, rallied at this attack on her beloved Richard. Her little figure quivered with indignation but her voice was steady as she replied, ‘Mr Leigh is one of the Hampshire Leighs, and as such need look no further than his uncle the Bishop for advancement. He is going as private secretary to Lord Seymour at the War Office, but hopes before long to stand for Parliament.’