by Louise Allen
‘Give my apologies to our guests, Anne, and tell them I have called away to Town by urgent business.’
‘How will you find Antonia?’
Marcus bent down to touch her cheek. ‘Saye is hot on her trail, he will mark where she is staying and then await me at the Town house. I will find her, never fear.’
The carriage jolted over the London cobblestones, jerking Antonia’s mind back from the miserable circles it had been running round all day. Even in a swift chaise, with no money spared in hiring postilions and making changes whenever the horses faltered, the journey had seemed interminable.
In the country it would still be light at eight o’clock, but here, with tall buildings crowding all around and the press of humanity on the streets, the evening seemed well drawn-in.
Antonia had directed the postilions to Half Moon Street, hoping that her great-aunt had suffered no relapse and was therefore at her own home and not at Cousin Hewitt’s. To her relief, the knocker was still on the door and lights glowed from the windows.
As soon as the carriage steps were let down Antonia ran up to the front door which opened as she reached it, as if in greeting. But it was not for her. Hodge, her great-aunt’s long-serving butler, was in the process of bowing out the familiar portly figure of her cousin Hewitt Granger. As usual he looked smug and she took some pleasure in seeing his face change at the sight of her.
They had never enjoyed a happy relationship. Hewitt was deeply suspicious of Antonia’s position in his grandmother's affections and had been only too pleased to see her depart to Hertfordshire. But at the same time she was uncomfortably aware that Hewitt Granger found her attractive. He never lost the opportunity to touch her, squeeze her hand or stare blatantly at her figure in a manner that left her feeling somehow soiled.
Even as he regarded her now with suspicion and dislike in his pale eyes, Hewitt’s tongue ran over his lips leaving them shining wetly in the lamplight.
‘Antonia, what are you doing here? We did not look to see you in London again. Perhaps you sent a missive which has gone astray?’ One gingery brow rose in an attempt at superiority.
‘Good evening, Hewitt.’ Antonia dismissed him, and his questions, and turned to greet the elderly butler. ‘Good evening, Hodge. I trust I find you well? How is the lumbago? Better, no doubt, in this warm weather.’
The old man beamed back. ‘Much better, thank you, Miss Antonia. And may I say what a pleasure – ’
‘Now look here,’ Hewitt interrupted. ‘l do not know what you think you are about, Antonia, but you cannot go in there.’ He moved to block her entrance with his body. ‘Grandmother has been very ill, she cannot possibly see you and certainly not at this hour. You must go to an hotel.’
Antonia glimpsed the expression on Hodge’s face, the almost imperceptible shake of his head. ‘Fiddlesticks, Hewitt. I am here at Great-Aunt’s invitation. Now do step aside and let me past. You have grown so stout since we last met; I cannot but feel it will do you no good, especially in this warm weather.’ She regarded his face with cloying sympathy. ‘You really look rather hot and agitated, quite puce, in fact. Do go and rest. Goodnight, I will not detain you any longer.’
Hodge curbed the smile that was beginning to dawn on his face and said urbanely, ‘Your usual chamber is prepared, Miss Antonia. And Cook has your favourite supper all ready.’
Antonia, even knowing this was untrue, could detect no falsity in the butler’s tone. With another sweet smile at Hewitt, who was muttering indignantly, she slipped neatly into the hall. Her cousin was further discommoded by two footmen running down the steps to collect Antonia’s luggage from the chaise. Comprehensively ignored by everyone, he clapped his hat on his head and strode off towards Piccadilly.
Hodge beamed at Antonia. ‘I will ring for Mrs Hodge and have your chamber prepared directly, Miss Antonia. Do you wish to go in directly to her ladyship?’
Antonia smiled at him. ‘You said just now that my room was already prepared, Hodge. Was that an untruth?’
‘Merely a slip of the tongue, Miss Antonia,’ he replied blandly. ‘Her ladyship will be delighted to see you, if I may make so bold. She is in the blue parlour. Shall I show you up?’
‘Thank you, no, Hodge. I know the way.’ Antonia whisked upstairs, happy to be back in the reassuring familiarity of her old home. It only lacked Donna to be quite like the old days, but her companion, when Antonia had announced her intention of fleeing to London, had reluctantly agreed to remain behind and supervise the Dower House.
Antonia paused, one hand raised to tap on her great-aunt’s door. She remembered the uncharacteristic blaze of fury on Donna’s face when she realised the lengths to which the Duke had driven her. Antonia had left in the gig with Miss Donaldson’s furious instructions to Jane ringing in her ears: ‘That man is never, never, to be permitted to cross this threshold again. Do you understand?’
Great-Aunt’s hearing was not what it was, so Antonia tapped firmly on the door and peeped round the edge, somewhat concerned that she might give Lady Granger a shock. The old lady was in her eighties and her health was uncertain, despite the recent improvement.
All that was visible was the top of a most elaborate lace cap showing over the back of a heavily brocaded wing chair. A small fire flickered in the grate despite the warmth of the evening and an embroidery stand and a basket of silks had been pushed to one side.
‘Is that you, Hodge?’ Lady Granger’s voice was still as strong and commanding as it always had been. ‘Has that fool of a grandson of mine gone? Thinks I do not know why he comes round! Sits there prattling on and all the time measuring me for my coffin with those wishy-washy eyes and wondering about my will. Pshaw! Does he think I am a fool?’
Antonia smiled to herself. The old lady was as outspoken as many of her contemporaries brought up in the more robust manners of the reign of the second George. She was quite likely to use intemperate language and could be open in her admiration for a comely young man in a way that caused blushes and giggles amongst younger women.
Antonia adored her great-aunt and was about to call her name when the old lady demanded, ‘And bring me my brandy, Hodge. Take away the taste of that bloodless sherry Hewitt pressed upon me.’
Antonia picked up the tray from the side table, carried it round and placed it before her aunt.
‘Good Gad! Antonia, my child, is it really you?’ Lady Granger held out her arms and Antonia went into them, enveloped in a cloud of rose scent, rice face powder and lace. ‘It does my heart good to see you.’
‘I am sorry to come with no warning. I hope it is not a shock, Great-Aunt.’ Antonia sat on a footstool beside Lady Granger and took her hand. She was shocked at how thin and papery the skin felt, but under her fingers the pulse beat strongly and the old eyes were bright and shrewd. ‘Reading your letter, I was so happy that you are feeling better, that I wanted to take up your invitation immediately.’
It sounded false even to her own ears and Lady Granger was not fooled. ‘Now tell me the real reason you are here,’ she demanded. She tipped up Antonia’s chin with a bony fingertip and peered into her face. ‘Some man has made those shadows under your eyes, I suppose. Who is he?’
Chapter Twenty Two
Antonia was shaken into honesty by the old lady’s directness. ‘Marcus Renshaw, the Duke of Allington.’
‘Allington, eh?’ A mischievous glint lit Lady Granger’s eyes. ‘And is he as handsome a dog as his grandfather, I wonder? Now there was a man with a fine leg in a pair of satin knee breeches. A man with a true damn-your-eyes attitude to life!’ She cackled reminiscently. ‘I nearly married him, but he was too much a rakehell, even for me.’
'His grandson is handsome, right enough,’ Antonia admitted ruefully. ‘And arrogant, and a rake.’
‘And you love him, I suppose?’
‘Yes.’ Antonia admitted.
The old lady held up an admonishing finger. ‘Do not dare cry, girl. Remember who you are and keep your pride. They are none
of them worth a single tear, and I should know.’
Antonia bit her lip. ‘I am not crying over him.’ She was beginning to believe the rumours she had heard about her great-aunt: that she had been a great beauty, the mistress of powerful men, even, it was hinted, one of the highest in the land.
The bright gaze suddenly froze on her face. ‘Why have you run away, girl? Has he been playing fast and loose with you? Have you permitted him any liberties? I recall Edmund Renshaw and his winning ways with the ladies. If his grandson has seduced you, he will find himself down the aisle before the week is out, if I have to take a shotgun to him myself.’
‘No,’ Antonia denied, blushing hotly, remembering how close she had come to yielding to the urging of his hard body on the riverbank that night, remembering her responses to his mouth on hers in the conservatory.
‘Indeed, miss!’ Great-Aunt took a sip of her brandy and fell silent as Mrs Hodge brought in a light meal, laid the table and departed with a curtsy.
She brooded quietly as Antonia ate, then, when she finally pushed away the plate, asked, ‘What is the matter then, that you have come to me?’
‘He does not love me and I cannot bear to be near him and his mistress a moment longer,’ Antonia admitted, getting to her feet and crossing to the window to look out on the street below. It was full dark now, except for the lanterns at each doorway.
‘Keeping a mistress, is he? Clumsy fool to let you know. Young men these days are losing their finesse. His grandfather would never have paraded his fancy piece in front of a girl he was courting. Has he made you any sort of declaration?’
‘He has proposed marriage and I have refused.’
‘Glad to hear you have that much spirit, my girl. And I am glad you had the sense to come to me although, with the Season over, Town is thin of company.’ Lady Granger mused for a while. ‘Difficult to think of an available man who might take your mind off that rake. Marcus Renshaw is very eligible,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I doubt you will ever make such a good catch again, but the important thing is that you are happy.
‘Come back and sit by me, child. You may stay as long as you wish, we will be comfortable together.’
Antonia put her head in the old lady’s lap and felt her hair being gently stroked. She shut her eyes and let the wise voice wash over her. ‘You will forget him in time, child. You are young and beautiful and bright and there are plenty more fish in the sea.’
The following morning brought Hewitt and his younger brother Clarence, accompanied by his wife of a few months who, Antonia decided after the briefest of acquaintances, was a total ninny.
The ladies had scarcely finished their breakfast when the knocker sounded their arrival. Lady Granger was not pleased at the early interruption. ‘What I have done to deserve such fools for grandsons I do not know,’ she confided to Antonia, not bothering to keep her voice down. ‘Neither of them has a thought in his head, but that does not stop them sticking their beaks into my business at every turn.’
The unbecoming mottling of Hewitt’s complexion showed he had heard at least part of this condemnation, but he swallowed his anger, bustling forward to kiss his grandmother’s hand and enquire condescendingly after her health. Clarence followed his elder brother. Although two years separated them, they were as alike as twins with their florid complexions and bulky figures.
Clarence turned to his cousin and presented his wife with the air of a man showing off a rare jewel. Emilia Granger was at least ten years younger than her husband. She was blonde and fluffy and simpered up at Clarence, who swelled with pride at the blatant adoration in the shallow blue eyes.
Antonia marvelled that any woman could regard her cousin with adoration until Mrs Granger opened her mouth. ‘Have you been in London before, Miss Dane? Oh, yes, silly me, I quite forgot. Clarence told me you used to live here. Oh, dear, I am a goose!’ She giggled inanely, a noise not unlike a guinea fowl at its most irritating, and prattled on. ‘We are just a little early, are we not? But dear brother Hewitt was so set on visiting. He said last night…’
Even a woman as stupid as she could not fail to recognise the fury with which her brother-in-law was regarding her. Emilia flushed unbecomingly and subsided into silence. Hewitt glowered at her until he was certain she would prattle no more and turned his attention once more to Antonia.
Antonia, catching his eye, shifted uncomfortably and moved closer to her great-aunt, who was snapping at her visitors, ‘Sit down, sit down. Do not hover about like a flock of pigeons. What do you want, Hewitt? You were only here last evening.’
Emilia, clearly scared out of her remaining wits by this terrifying old lady, squeaked and dropped her reticule. The contents fell out and she scrabbled at her feet to pick them up, her cheeks scarlet. The two men sat firmly, one at each end of the sofa opposite their grandmother.
‘Ha! Like a pair of bookends, and with as much sense between you,’ Lady Granger snorted.
A moment of silence followed. Clarence finally broke it by clearing his throat. ‘Well, Grandmama.’ He fiddled with his neck cloth. ‘Sensible as we all are of your weakened condition and mindful that your doctor has prescribed rest…’
‘Poppycock. I have dismissed the old fool, as well you know. Young Dr Hardcastle – it does me good just to see his handsome face – stands for none of that nonsense.’
‘Be that as it may, Grandmama,’ Clarence continued gamely, ‘We were concerned that our cousin’s presence might fatigue you. So we have come to offer her accommodation with us. For the week or two you are in London, Coz,’ he added, turning to Antonia.
‘She stays here,’ the old lady snapped, causing another spasm of fright to shake Emilia’s thin frame.
‘And I intend to stay for quite some time – months, in fact. So, of course, I could not possibly impose on you in Wimpole Street.’ Antonia smiled sweetly at Emilia. ‘And I could not possibly intrude into the household of a newly married couple.’ Mrs Granger was so discommoded that she dropped her reticule again.
‘Fool of a woman,’ Great-Aunt muttered quite audibly, then, raising her voice, added, ‘We have all the dress shops to visit as Antonia needs a complete change of wardrobe. I fully intend to buy all the latest novels and volumes of poetry so we may read together. And, of course, we must get out of London soon. Bath, perhaps, or Brighton. What think you, Hewitt? Only a house in the best area, of course, and at this short notice it will no doubt cost a pretty penny. But there, I cannot take it with me, can I?’
Hewitt had raised a hand to cover his eyes and was murmuring gently to himself. Antonia thought she caught the words, ‘The money, the money…’
Lady Granger tugged the bell-pull at her side. ‘Well, you may all remain here if you wish, but we were about to go out. Antonia, did I mention last night that I intend to take my diamond set to Garrard’s to be cleaned and reset for you? We can do that on the way to the modiste’s.’ Having thus completed Hewitt’s anguish, she smiled benignly on her grandsons and, leaning on Antonia’s arm, crossed the room slowly but steadily.
Antonia was surprised to discover, when they sat down later to luncheon, how effective a good shopping spree was in keeping a broken heart at bay. Her mind still flinched from thinking of Marcus, but her spirits were lighter and she found she could look forward to the next few weeks with pleasant anticipation. At least she need not be constantly anxious that she would meet him.
‘I must go and lie down for a while,’ Great-Aunt announced. ‘No, no, I am not fatigued.’ She waved aside Antonia's concern. ‘Dr Hardcastle has told me to conserve my energies. Why not take a walk in the park? Or would you prefer one of the grooms to drive you?’
‘Thank you, Great-Aunt, but I think I will walk. I have grown used to covering some distances since I have been in Hertfordshire and I confess I miss the exercise.’ Antonia dropped a kiss on the dry, papery cheek and went upstairs to put on her bonnet and pelisse.
With one of the maids at her heels, Antonia set off briskly towards Hyde P
ark. Green Park was closer, but the more open expanses of the larger park beckoned and the afternoon was pleasantly sunny with a light breeze.
Antonia had an enjoyable walk, wandering further than she had intended. She finally turned for home, much to the relief of Julia the maid, who was not used to lengthy excursions of this sort, judging by the increasing number of sighs from her direction. A particularly gusty sigh distracted Antonia, she slipped on a tussock and turned her ankle painfully.
‘Oh, Miss Antonia, are you all right, Miss?’ Julia’s face was anxious as Antonia grimaced and rubbed the side of her kid boot.
‘Ow! That was a nasty wrench, but I do not think it is sprained.’ She placed her foot gingerly to the ground and winced. ‘I shall manage well enough if I lean on your arm, Julia.’
The two of them had begun their slow progress homewards when there was the sound of carriage wheels behind them and a cry of, ‘Cousin! What has befallen you?’ Antonia turned to see Hewitt in a shiny curricle pulled by a showy bay.
‘l have turned my ankle, Hewitt, there is no cause for concern.’
Hewitt jumped down from the carriage. ‘But you must ride back with me, dear cousin, I insist.’
Antonia’s first instinct was to refuse, but the thought of hobbling conspicuously across the Park was not appealing and her ankle was now throbbing.
‘Thank you, Hewitt. Is there room for my maid?’
‘No!’ Hewitt looked appalled at the thought of having a maidservant in his new carriage.
‘Very well. Julia, I am afraid you will have to walk back to Half Moon Street.’
‘Hewitt, do take care,’ Antonia gasped two minutes later as Hewitt took a curve so close the carriage rocked. She suspected that he had chosen both horse and curricle for their showy looks rather than quality, and was not entirely certain he could control either.
‘If you are nervous I will slow down, one would not wish to frighten a lady.’ He reined back and leered at Antonia, who placed her parasol firmly on the seat between them.