Francesca Shaw - The Unconventional Miss Dane

by The Unconventional Miss Dane (lit)

  With a start she realised how far she had ventured. Although she had never walked so far along this path before, she guessed she was on Brightshill land. In fact, she calculated, if she walked on around that bend, she might be able to glimpse of the roof of the house where Marcus was. The evening, when he would come to her, seemed a long way away. The turn of the river revealed a summerhouse built as a small classical temple on shorn grass. The lawns swept up towards the house, almost hidden by the rise of the land. All seemed deserted, shimmering in the heat of the aRe moon Antonia gazed towards the house for a long moment, hardly believing that she would be mistress ~ it, perhaps before the year was out.

  The classical portico of the temple was casting temp ing shade; Antonia realised just how far she had to walk back and decided that a few moments' rest would I welcome, for if anything the day was getting hotter. S1 sank gratefully on to a wrought-iron bench and fanned herself with her hat. Through gaps in the trees she could see the sky was no longer cloudless and great thunder heads were building, threatening a storm later;

  Antonia got to her feet and decided to set out aga'. before she was caught in the rain.

  "What are you doing here?" Marcus's voice enquired from behind her.

  She whirled round, her heart beating with delight the sound of his voice, then found she could not see hit P~~7~led, she descended the short flight of marble steps and rounded the far corner of the summerhouse.

  Trees had been planted to surround a grassy gla, where the wild flowers had been allowed to grc unchecked in the natural style. A semi-clad goddess marble gazed out to the river with unseeing eyes, a doci fawn recumbent at her feet.

  For a moment Antonia stood, enchanted by the tranquility of the spot, then she saw Marcus, A hammo~ had been slung between two trees, providing a sha~ resting place, and he was lying, coat discarded, sh open, a book and pitcher on the ground beside him.

  Whoever Marcus had spoken to, it was not Antoni His gaze was fixed on someone within the grove trees, someone who at that moment emerged.

  For a dizzy moment Antonia believed the statue' had come to life and descended from its plinth, then she realised it was Claudia. Her hair was caught up in classical ringlets, her form molded by the diaphanous muslin of a white gown. The garment, confined only by a crisscross of ribbons at the besom, was to Antonia's horrified eye, quite outrageous.

  Claudia skirted the foot of the hammock to stand at Marcus's side, her back to Antonia. As the sunlight caught the gown, the wearer's limbs were clearly defined beneath skirts that must have been dampened.

  They were talking, low-voiced. Antonia, frozen to the spot, was unable to hear what passed between them, but she could clearly see Claudia reach out to brush the hair from Marcus's forehead before leaning down and fastening her lips on his.

  Surely he would rebuff her, push her away! Then, before Antonia's startled eyes, his arms encircled Claudia, pulling her into his embrace. The hammock swayed-wildly, the slender trees supporting it bent inwards and Claudia, ever graceful, subsided on to Marcus's broad chest.

  Seconds later the hammock tipped, tumbling them beth onto the grass sward, where they lay in a tangle of limbs, lips still joined.

  With a sob Antonia whirled round and ran blindly back along the river bank, stumbling over roots, briars catching at her skirts.

  Behind the summerhouse, Marcus freed his lips from the voracious, experienced mouth abe ve him and pushed Lady Reed from his chest with more force than gallantry.

  He raised himself on his elbews, panting slightly, and glowered at Claudia, who still sprawled enticingly at his side.

  "Damn it, woman! Have I not told you to behave with more circumspection? Anyone could have seen you."

  Claudia pouted prettily. "Why so hot for respectability, my love, when you used to be so hot for me?"

  He snorted, pushing himself into a sitting position. "When was I ever your love, Claudia? Admit it, you love only yourself."

  "And you, Marcus? I suppose you are going to tell me now that you love that female. What is it that attracts you, my dear? It surely cannot be her clothes, her lack of style and connections? She is all ungainly legs and country complexion." Her drawling tone did not quite disguise the malice behind the words.

  Marcus got to his feet in one easy movement. "Enough." He Stooped to take Claudia's hand and help her up. "I intend to marry Miss Dane. It is an entirely suitable match."

  "In terms of land, I suppose it is wise," Claudia conceded. "For I can see the advantages of connecting the two estates, they march together so well. I am quite fatigued, my dear, and be red with talking of your little country mouse." She slipped her hand through his arm, "Let us go back to the house and take tea."

  As they began to stroll up the long sloping lawns, Antonia had reached the last stretch of river before the Dower House. She had sobbed as she ran, and now, breathless and dishevelled, sank to the bank edge.

  She could not go into the house like this, unless she was prepared to tell all to Donna. Antonia bent, scooping up-cold water to splash on her hot eyes, and eventually felt calm enough to return home.

  In the pari our Donna was sipping tea, the mended linen in a basket at her feet. "My dear!" She started up at the sight of Antonia's flushed face and heavy eyes. "Come and sit down. You have walked too far, undone all the good work of this morning. I do hope you are not sickening for something."

  "I think it is the weather." Antonia was surprised at the matter-of-factness she could achieve, although her heart felt as though it were breaking. "See, the clouds are banking up, we will have a storm soon." Despite the heat she felt as though something had frozen inside her. It was as though she had known all along that he did not love her, that he had offered only for her land, not for her love. ~

  You fool, she told herself, as she mechanically drank the tea Donna passed her. You have been living in a fool's paradise: after all, he had never spoken of love. She could not fault him in that. It was all her own foolishness, her own romantic daydreaming. Her own inexperience had ensnared her, leading her to believe that a man's passions were all allied to love. But men, she was learning, could desire a woman with their affections entirely unengaged. And, it seemed, could feel that desire for more than one woman at a time.

  And several hundred acres of land were, no doubt, a powerful inducement to desire.

  She was still more despising of herself than angry with Marcus when, an early supper eaten, she sat waiting for him in the garden. Donna, in obvious expectation of a proposal, had tactfully made herself scarce.

  The air was heavy with a threatening chrome yellow tinge to the banked clouds. Lightning flickered over the

  Vale and thunder flies swarmed above the flowerbeds. Antonia, despite the light summer gown, felt as if she were wearing furs, so oppressive was the heat.

  She was fighting to keep calm, rehearsing the dignified, frigid speech with which she intended to withdraw her acceptance of his offer. She had no intention of bringing Claudia Reed's name into it. No, she would say in measured tones that she had thought better of it, that they would not suit. After all, she could never admit she had seen them that afternoon.

  The old long case clock from the hallway struck seven, the sound echoing faintly across the garden from the open casements, set wide to catch what little breeze there was.

  Where was he? The longer she waited, the harder it became to maintain her fragile composure. Then she heard the hoofbeats and started to her feet, her heart beating painfully. Marcus, uotting ~up the driveway, saw the tall, slim figure in the pale yellow gown against a rose bush and turned his horse's head. Tossing the reins over a branch he strode across the lawn towards her, a smile warm on his lips.

  Antonia knew her face was set--try as she might, she could not arrange her features into any semblance of welcome. As he neared her and saw her expression his changed, too, into a look of questioning concern.

  "Antonia, what is wrong?" He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips.

>   Antonia pulled her hand away, her legs suddenly weak with longing for him, for his touch. She could not allow herself to falter, weaken, or she would be lost, loving him as she did.

  "My lord," she began formally, her lips stiff. He began to speak, but she held up her hand to forestall him. "My lord, I have to tell you that, flattering as your offer to me yesterday was, I feel my acceptance of it was mistaken. Upon mature reflection..." her voice wavered slightly as a frown gathered between his brows, but she pressed on bravely 'upon reflection, I must decline your proposal, sensible though I am of the honour you do me. My lord, we should not suit," she finished haldly.

  This was as far as she had gone with her prepared speech. Her imagination had not allowed her to envisage Marcus's reaction.

  "Should not suit!" His voice was incredulous. "Antonia, what can you mean?" She was having an attack of maidenly vapours, no doubt, although he had not thought it of her.

  Antonia drew herself up and took a steadying breath. "I mean what I say, my lord. We should not suit. I am only grateful circumstances were such that we made no announcement last night."

  He let out a short bark of laughter. "We may have made no announcement, but our friends know what to expect."

  "I have done nothing to lead them to draw conclusions," she said stiffly. "What you have done, my lord, is your affair."

  "Damn it, woman, will you stop calling me " my lord"!"

  "How dare you use such language to me!" The thunder cracked and rolled overhead, causing Antonia to start nervously.

  Marcus did not hesitate. He seized her in his arms, fastened his mouth on hers, feeling its hard resistance soften and yield beneath his lips.

  Antonia felt close to swooning, the pounding of her heart finding echo in the skies above. His hands were roaming tantalisingly, finally settling on her shoulders, hot on the bare skin exposed there. "

  She wanted him so much, and when his tongue invaded her mouth she opened to him, welcoming the intimacy. Her hands tangled in his hair, and as they did so a picture of Claudia flickered against her closed lids.

  Antonia stiffened in his arms. It was as though she could taste the scent of the other woman on his lips and it repelled her. With a gasp, she wrenched herself free of him~ ~

  "My God, Antonia," he exclaimed, running his hand through his disordered hair. "How can you claim we do not suit? I have never known a woman respond so, with such passion..."

  "And you have known so many, my lord," she riposted, her colour high, her bosom heaving.

  So that was what it was all about! Damn Claudia. This was what he feared would happen when she had turned up uninvited and against his wishes. He had implored her to be discreet, not flaunt their relationship. But he should have known that the slightest hint of competition would drive Claudia to a display of ownership as provocative as it was indiscreet.

  "If this is about Claudia--' he began, with fatal misjudgment.

  "About Claudia! You have the effrontery to invite your strumpet to your home at the very time you make me a proposal and you wonder that I reject you? I had a better opinion of your understanding than that, my lord!"

  Heavy rain drops began to fall, plopping weightily-on the dusty earth.

  Neither heeded the wetness, so caught up were they in their battle. to speak, but she held up her hand to forestall him. "My lord, I have to tell you that, flattering as your offer to me yesterday was, I feel my acceptance of it was mistaken. Upon mature reflection..." her voice wavered slightly as a frown gathered between his brows, but she pressed on bravely 'upon reflection, I must decline your proposal, sensible though I am of the honour you do me. My lord, we should not suit," she finished baldly.

  This was as far as she had gone with her prepared speech. Her imagination had not allowed her to envisage Marcus's reaction.

  "Should not suit!" ~ His voice was incredulous. "Antonia, what can you mean?" She was having an attack of maidenly yap ours no doubt, although he had not thought it of her.

  Antonia drew herself up and took a steadying breath. "I mean what I say, my lord. We should not suit. I am only grateful circumstances were such that we made no announcement last night."

  He let out a short bark of laughter. "We may have made no announcement, but our friends know what to expect."

  "I have done nothing to lead them to draw conclusions," she said stiffly. "What you have done, my lord, is your affair."

  "Damn it, woman, will you stop calling me " my lord'V "How dare you use such language to me!" The thunder cracked and rolled overhead, causing Antonia to start nervously.

  Marcus did not hesitate. He seized her in his arms, fastened his mouth on hers, feeling its hard resistance soften and yield beneath his lips.

  Antonia felt close to swooning, the pounding of her heart finding echo in the

  16. " skies above. His hands were roaming tantalisingly, finally settling on her shoulders, hot on the bare ski: exposed there. "

  She wanted him so much, and when his tongue invade, her mouth she opened to him, welcoming the intimac) Her hands tangled in his hair, and as they did so a pictur of Claudia flickered against her closed lids.

  Antonia stiffened in his arms, It was as though she could taste the scent of the other woman on his lip and it repelled her. With a gasp, she wrenched hers el free of him.

  "My God, Antonia," he exclaimed, running his han through his disordered hair. "How can you claim we d not suit? I have never known a woman respond so, wit such passion..."

  "And you have known so many, my lord," she riposte' her colour high, her bosom heaving.

  So that was what it was all about! Damn Claudia. Th was what he feared would happen when she had turn~ up uninvited and against his wishes. He had implored her to be discreet, not flaunt their relationship. But I should have known that the slightest hint of competiti~ would drive Claudia to a display of ownership as pr, vocative as it was indiscreet.

  "If this is about Claudia--' he began, with fatal mi judgment.

  "About Claudia! You have the effrontery to invite yo strumpet to your home at the very time you make me proposal and you wonder that I reject you? I had a better opinion of your understanding than that, my lord!"

  Heavy rain drops began to fall, plopping weightily-{ the dusty earth.

  Neither heeded the wetness, so caug up were they in their battle.

  "Strumpet! That is fine language for a lady to use! And Claudia Reed is not my mistress, if we must speak plainly of such things." His eyes were narrowed in the failing light, but she could still see the angry glitter through the rain that now lashed down.

  "Do not lie to me!"

  "How dare you!" His voice was like the thunder above. "I dare because I speak the truth! I cannot deny the evidence of my own eyes!" As soon as she uttered the words Antonia realised how she had betrayed herself.

  "What evidence? What are you speaking of?" ~ The water was running down the hard planes of his face, his hair was as sleek and dark as an otter, s.

  "I saw you this aRe moon she cried out. " I saw you behind the summerhouse with your wh--' She almost used the shocking word, but some vestige of restraint held her back.

  "Those who creep about spying should expect to' see unpalatable sights, madam." Marcus's cheeks were flushed, although whether from anger or shame she could not tell.

  "You do not deny it, then?" she accused hotly.

  "I am not going to justify myself to you, Antonia. If you are not prepared to take my word, ~ you are correct: we would not suit." He bowed stiffly, clapped his hat back on his sodden head and strode to where his horse sheltered miserably under the tree.

  She stood, unheeding of the torrent, until she could no longer discern the sound of hoofbeats, then, her gown winding wetly about her limbs, she stumbled back towards the house.

  Chapter Nine

  The heavy rainstorm of the night before had mined all but the most sheltered roses in the Dower House gardens. Antonia lifted up the water-weighted branches to try and find some buds fit for
cutting, grimacing in distaste as the pulpy petals clung to her hands.

  The storm had cleared the air: the morning had dawned bright and fresh and a slight breeze was fast drying the gravel paths. Antonia was resolved to keep herself occupied, but her mind felt numb. Her thoughts flickered to the events of the day before, then flinched away as though she had touched a burn. She could not bear to think of Marcus and of what she had lost by spurning him. Hoofbeats sounded in the lane beyond the high quick-thorn hedge and she dropped the basket, her hand flying to her throat. "Marcus!" she said out loud as the hoofbeats slowed and the rider turned into the carriage way of the Dower House.

  It was Marcus . her eyes strained against the bright sunlight, then the silhouetted rider became clearer. The man was shorter than Lord Arlington, his hair a neatly barbered brown and the horse he was riding obviously a hired hack.