Antonia blushed at the improper implication, but Marcus laughed. ‘Enough to make me envious, ma’am.’
The two settled into a conversation that subtly excluded Antonia. She sat to one side, watching Marcus’s face, the play of expression, the movement of his hands, listening to the laugh in his voice. She loved him, wanted nothing more than to run across the room to him, bury her face in his shirt front and hear his heart beat under her ear.
It was so painful to see him here in her old home, talking to her great-aunt, but to know that nothing had changed, nor could it. Ruthlessly she reminded herself that she could not ally herself with a man so unprincipled he would flaunt his mistress before her. And if that meant she had to live out her life in spinsterhood, well, so be it. If she could not have Marcus Renfrew, she did not want second best.
Not that she any longer had the choice. He had made it quite clear that he was not here to see her and his reaction to Hewitt had been one of total indifference.
Antonia became aware that Marcus was on his feet taking his leave. As he bowed over Lady Granger’s hand once more, Antonia saw her great-aunt give a decisive little nod as though she had reached a conclusion to a difficult puzzle.
Antonia curtsied slightly. ‘Good day, Your Grace.’ And goodbye for ever, she whispered to herself.
Antonia discovered, as she dressed for Almack’s that evening, that deciding on a life of spinsterhood did not diminish her pleasure in putting on her newest gown. The confection of silver cobweb gauze over a deep jade green underskirt was outrageously becoming, especially when worn with her great-aunt’s diamond set, just returned from the jeweller that afternoon.
As she waited for the carriage to come round Great-Aunt Honoria regarded her critically and observed, ‘You look very beautiful tonight, my dear: that simple Grecian hairstyle becomes you. But you are not in spirits, are you? It is Allington, is it not?’ Antonia nodded silently. ‘Well, I can see why you have fallen for him. Can you not forgive him? Men are but fallible creatures.’
‘No, never,’ Antonia said emphatically. ‘He flaunted his mistress before me and besides, he does not love me.’
Further conversation was cut short by the arrival of the carriage with the Granger party. Reluctant as she was to accept Emilia’s chaperonage, Antonia knew she had little choice: Great-Aunt Honoria could not be expected to attend every evening party with her niece.
As soon as they reached Almack’s Antonia accepted an invitation to dance and was not displeased at the end of the measure to find herself on the far side of the room from her relations. She encountered the family of Sir George Dover, another Hertfordshire neighbour, and was soon in conversation with his two pretty daughters.
Miss Kitty fell silent in the middle of a description of the most ravishing silk warehouse she had visited the day before. ‘…and two dress lengths for scarcely more than you would expect to pay for one…’ and blushed.
Antonia turned to follow her gaze and saw Marcus enter the room. Few men could carry off the severe evening wear insisted upon by the Patronesses of Almack’s to such advantage she thought. Her pulse rate kicked up and she fanned herself, fearing her cheeks were as flushed as Miss Kitty’s.
‘Is he not the most handsome man in the room, Miss Dane?’ Kitty Dover whispered in Antonia’s ear. ‘In fact, I do declare him the most handsome man in Town.’
Antonia could only stare dumbly across the dance floor, lost in hopeless love for Marcus, a lump in her throat preventing her from answering. She just hoped her feelings were not written plain on her face.
‘Oh. He is coming over here! Why, I shall just die if he asks me to dance,’ Kitty's younger sister Amanda exclaimed.
Marcus strode across the floor as the next set was forming. Antonia was aware that many pairs of female eyes followed his elegant progress, and when he stopped before the three young women, bowed and then addressed her, she was conscious of several dagger-like looks.
‘Miss Dane, Miss Dover, Miss Amanda. Good evening to you. Miss Dane, will you do me the honour of standing up with me for this cotillion?’
‘You must forgive me, Your Grace, I have a headache and cannot dance. Excuse me,’ she said to the girls as she pulled back a curtain and stepped into one of the small retiring rooms.
The room was deserted, without even the presence of the maidservant who was normally in attendance armed with smelling salts, a pincushion and other essentials for rescuing ladies at a disadvantage.
Antonia laid one hand on her breast in a vain attempt to steady her hectic breathing. It was so foolish to respond like this. After all, she told herself with an attempt at lightness, if she came to the most fashionable resort in Town she must expect to find Marcus there. She must accustom herself to the sight of him.
A footfall behind her sent her whirling around. ‘Marcus. You should not be in here, it is most improper. Were we to be seen people might believe… assume…’
> ‘Then they would be correct,’ he remarked calmly and took her in his arms in a manner which brooked no argument.
Despite that, Antonia tried to break free, just for her own self-esteem, but his arms were strong around her waist and when his lips neared hers she stopped struggling. All propriety, all thought of what was correct flew from her mind the moment his teeth nibbled delicately along the sensitive curve of her upper lip.
Antonia gave herself up to the sensation of being kissed by the only man she would ever love and when he deepened the kiss she responded in kind, kissing him so fiercely that she felt rather than heard his answering groan.
At length he freed her mouth, although his arms continued to support her. That, Antonia acknowledged shakily to herself, was a good thing, for her legs were too tremulous to hold her up.
Marcus's eyes as they smiled down into hers were dark with desire, yet sparkling with mischief. ‘Now confess – that preposterous cousin of yours does not kiss you like that.’
Antonia freed herself with an angry shake. ‘So that was what prompted your kiss, was it? A desire, not for me, but to best my cousin Hewitt? Well, for your information, Marcus, I have never permitted Mr Granger to embrace me, nor will I ever do so.’
Marcus looked down into the angry eyes, sparkling magnificently in the indignant face, saw the rise and fall of Antonia’s bosom and judged the time was right to do what he had intended ever since he came to Town in pursuit of her.
‘But you permit me to embrace you. Come, Antonia, let us end this charade. Say you will be my wife and have done with it.’