Robert left her and closed the door behind him, leaving it unlocked. He did not feel confident about doing that, was convinced she would take the opportunity to escape, but looking at the deepening snow and feeling the freezing temperatures, he hoped she would have the sense to stay where she was. He did not want to have to chase after her in this weather, but still he watched the courtyard carefully for any sign of a fleeing woman, lest she decide it was worth the discomfort.
He had not exactly shown her the best of himself and that he regretted. What he told her had not been empty flattery; he did admire her, admired her stubbornness and her courage as he was quite sure she would go, would not marry for no better reason than to spare herself the hard work and humiliation of servitude.
Camilla's beautiful face flitted across his thoughts, the haughty lift of her chin when he had the audacity to suggest they might still wed without the title and the wealth. She could not have been more horrified had he asked her to scrub the floor! He had always believed himself to be a good judge of character, but quite obviously he had fallen victim to Camilla's flattery and had not known her at all. He wondered briefly if he was really that shallow, that easily gratified. He supposed he must be, but if there was one thing he was sure of it was that Antonia would never subject him to false flattery. She would say what she thought, regardless of where it took her.
He found himself smiling again and this time he let the smile develop into a feeling of contentment and wellbeing. Perhaps it would work, after all, he thought. But he was still faced with the problem of securing her agreement.
His thoughts were disturbed by the opening of the sitting room door. He looked up to see Antonia standing in the doorway, staring at him where he sat beside the fire. She was not wearing her outdoor clothing, which surprised him, and he sat up straight in his chair and gestured her to sit on the other side of the hearth. She turned and closed the door, then walked toward him, settled herself before the fire and folded her arms against the cold.
He did not speak, just looked at her expectantly.
"You forgot to lock the door, My Lord," she said.
He shook his head.
"No. I realised that the more I try to force you, the less likely I am to get my own way."
"You see," she answered with a little half smile, "you are getting to know me."
"Antonia," he said earnestly, "if this marriage does not go ahead, I will have nothing, no money, no land, not even a roof over my head. I am begging you, I will do anything you want. We can live separate lives; I will give you money, your own part of the house... I'll even give you your own house if that is what you want and it can be as far away from me as you want it to be. We need never see each other again."
Her eyes met his thoughtfully and her heart melted a little.
"You are afraid?" She asked softly.
"Hell, yes! Yes, I am afraid! You are the only one who can save me and instead of appreciating that, I have made an enemy of you. I do not want that."
"Your accusation," she began, "that it is my duty to aid you in securing your birthright, has been bothering my conscience. I know not what would have become of me without the aid of your father when my parents died and I had nothing; I owe it to him and to his name to help his son in return."
He was very surprised. He had believed this would be an ongoing battle, had wondered how to go about persuading a priest to marry them against the lady's will, hoped he could use some of that well known charm to persuade her, though it seemed unlikely she would succumb. Yet here she was telling him she agreed, without coercion. His suspicious mind wondered if this was a ploy to make him drop his guard so she could make her escape with ease, but somehow he did not believe she would think of that. She was altogether too forthright and outspoken and would resist him loudly until resistance was of no further use.
"Thank you," he said warily.
"I want you to know that I do so under duress," she went on. "Once married, it will be final and we will only ever be free of each other when one of us leaves this world. If I am to be your wife, I think I am entitled to make some conditions."
He leaned forward, his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin resting in his hand. He felt that little smile of amusement trying to escape again and he had no idea why except that she was so very, very different from any other woman he had ever known. Every single one of them had gone out of her way to please him, to be sure he wanted her, lusted after her, while this fairy creature was making demands and conditions as though she were doing him a great favour. But she was, and he could not deny it. He just did not quite comprehend why he should find it so amusing.
"Well?" He said at last.
"I will not be party to a sham marriage, My Lord." His eyes widened in surprise. "If I am to be your wife, I will be your wife, not some appendage who wears your title and bears your babies without deference or respect."
He was taken aback and it showed, but her forthright openness once more made him smile with amusement.
"You are laughing at me?"
"No, no," he protested quickly. "Please do not think that. I am just surprised; I expected one of your conditions to be that I did not consummate the marriage, yet you talk of babies."
"A marriage like that would be no marriage, My Lord," she replied with a frown. "As I said, if I am to be your wife, I will be your wife. I will do my duty in that direction and I expect you to do the same."
"Antonia," he replied. "I would never think of it as a duty. I hope you will come to realise that as well."
Her eyes met his and held his gaze for a few moments and she blushed.
"I am not sure that will be possible," she said solemnly. "I have no experience, a fact which aroused something violent in you when last I spoke of it."
"I am so sorry..."
"But rest assured," she went on as though he had not spoken, "if I do this thing, I will adhere to my vows. I will be faithful and I expect the same from you. I will not be made a fool of."
He smiled, then leaned forward further and took her hand. He was surprised when she allowed him to hold it, made no move to pull away.
"It is little enough to ask," he murmured softly.
"I do not really know you, but from what I have seen so far, I do not like you very much. I hope we can develop some mutual respect, but I have not forgotten that you told me you love another woman," she went on. "You need to know that is intolerable to me. I cannot contemplate a husband who is in love with someone else and if that is still the case, let us forget the whole thing. I will go and find work and you can charm your way into some wealthy lady's bed."
Camilla's image flitted across his mind, the way she was at their last meeting, the furious way she greeted the news that she would not be the Countess of Roxham after all, and he held tighter to the tiny hand which still rested in his. The idea that he might be in love with that selfish and superior woman, suddenly made him want to laugh out loud and he fought against the creasing of his lips.
"You find that amusing, My Lord?" Antonia asked.
He sighed heavily, clasped hold of her hand as though it were a lifeline then he brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers.
"A lot has happened in a few short days," he said. "If you will agree to this marriage, which I know you do for my sake not yours, I will swear to be faithful to you."
"Good," she replied. "My parents enjoyed a loving relationship. It is what I always hoped for, but fidelity and respect will do almost as well. I do not like you and I do not expect that to change, but I have been known to be wrong."
She made a move to stand, but he held fast to her hand so that she stopped and stared at him warily.
"Have you no interest in whether I like you?" He asked.
"You do not seem to consider that important," she answered. "You do not want to marry me, you have to. I will wed you out of gratitude to your father; you will marry me to acquire your title and estate. I am not expecting you to like me."
"Oh, bu
t I do," he told her. "I find you so utterly different from any other woman I have ever met. You are funny and honest and care little for titles and wealth. I have never met anyone like you before."
The snow continued to fall, for which Robert was grateful. Despite Antonia's promise, despite her sudden change of heart and their agreement, he still feared she might take the first opportunity to slip away.
There were but a few days until the wedding and he wanted to use them wisely. Antonia had openly told him she did not like him and while he could hardly blame her for that, he would like to change her mind.
Today a strong wind accompanied the snow and howled about the walls of the house and he suddenly thought of how fortunate he was to be here, before this warm fire instead of freezing in one of the tenant's cottages or wandering the roads in search of shelter.
Antonia had saved him from that and he owed it to her to try to make her happy, to convince her that he could be a good and amiable man and that scheme would coincide nicely with the one he had already formed.
He got to his feet and donned his fur mantle before making his way down to the basement kitchens. There was a lot of activity, bustling cooks preparing dishes and sweetmeats for the wedding feast, kitchen maids sweating from their exertions and the heat from the ovens.
It all came to a stop when they noticed His Lordship on the balcony looking down at them. They all looked up, curtsied and bowed, all but one - Antonia. She stopped what she was doing, her eyes met his and she frowned. He frowned back, surprised to see her there. Was she having a hand in making the food for her own wedding feast?
"Do not stop," he told them. "I came to tell you the great hall will be opened for the poor until the weather improves. Please see to it there is food for them all. I know you are all busy with preparations for the wedding, but I hope one of you can spare the time."
There were murmurs of assent and as he looked at Antonia, his heart skipped unexpectedly to see her smile of approval.
She put down the basin she was holding and made her way up the spiral staircase toward him. Impulsively, he held out a hand to her and was thrilled when she took it without hesitation.
They walked together to the small sitting room, still holding hands, and he felt a stirring deep inside just from this innocent touch. He was not even thinking of more intimate things, of more familiar contact, yet her touch made him stir. He did not understand it.
"That was a generous thing to do," she said as they walked. "Your father never did anything like that."
"Why does that not surprise me?" He replied. "I did not expect to find you in the kitchens. What were you doing there?"
"The same as you," she said. "Preparing extra food for the poor. It is not my place to invite them inside, though."
He tried to imagine Camilla doing that, taking it upon herself to prepare food for the poor during a blizzard that would likely leave them hungry or possibly starving. Even in his imagination he could not make it happen, could not make her stay in the kitchen, could not see her anywhere but before the fire, at the table and eating her sumptuous meal, sparing not a single thought to the poor.
"You soon will be," he replied at last.
As they reached the sitting room and sat together before the fire, he found himself reluctant to release her hand. He held it to his lips and smiled at her over the tiny fingers.
"You have been smiling at me since I agreed to the marriage," she said. "I realise you are pleased to be getting your inheritance but..."
"That is not all I am pleased to be getting," he replied.
"What then?"
He hesitated a moment before answering her question with one of his own.
"Do you like me any better yet?"
"A little," she said warily. "Why?"
He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him, but made no reply.
Because I think I am falling in love with you, He wanted to say.
The snow had stopped falling by the date set for the wedding, but it froze solid along the hedgerows and banks, and along the ruts in the narrow roads which led to the village church.
Antonia studied her reflection as a maid laced her bodice at the back and placed the veil of cloth of silver over her dark auburn hair. She wore her hair hanging loose, as was the tradition for unmarried women; tomorrow they would all expect her to arrange it on top of her head or cover it completely. For the first time she wondered where this tradition had come from. In some cultures women covered their hair, but that was a religious thing and nothing to do with whether they were wed or not. She liked her hair falling to her waist and she had no intention of changing it just to follow custom. She hoped Robert would understand that, as she had seen his temper and had no wish to see it again.
Although she had been coerced into this marriage, and was still uncertain if it was the right thing to do, she recognised that the ceremony would require her promise to obey him. It was not in her nature to do that, it never had been, and she would have to get to know him a little better before she decided the best way to handle him.
His change of mood from anger and rebellion to amusement surprised her. She still wondered what he found to amuse him about the situation, but no doubt she would find out.
She found herself more comfortable with him than she expected and opening the hall up for the poor, providing food and bedding for them, had certainly raised him in her estimation. They needed the hall for the wedding and there was no telling how long the weather would last, but he thought the tenants and peasants were more important. She agreed.
With the snow falling through the roofs of their little cottages and dousing the fires, they had no way to cook anything even if there were anything to cook. Their crops of vegetables were buried under many feet of snow and frozen solid.
"If the peasants are still here when the guests arrive for the wedding, My Lord," she asked him, "Where will we hold the festivities? People will be expecting to be fed, despite the weather."
"Then we will have more guests," he answered flippantly. "The more the merrier."
She smiled, a happy, spontaneous smile. She had no way of knowing the affect that smile had on him, but she thought perhaps she could learn to like him after all.
As she stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection, the door opened a fraction and Frederick stood in the opening holding a cloak of beautiful white fur in his hands.
"His Lordship sent this for you to wear," he said. "He thought you might be cold."
She caught her breath in surprise, then stepped forward to run her fingers over the soft fur. It was not a new garment; indeed where would he have got such a thing at short notice? But it had scarcely been worn.
Her eyes met those of the manservant and she raised an eyebrow in a gesture of query.
"It belonged to the late Countess," he told her. "To Viscount Robert's mother. I believe he still keeps a few of her clothes."
She had never thought of him as having a mother and now she wondered what had happened to her.
"Thank you, Frederick," she said and she turned to allow him to drape the heavy cloak over her shoulders.
"If I may be so bold, Mistress," he said. "You do look very beautiful."
"Thank you, Frederick.” She paused and looked up at him with a mischievous grin. “You got your own way, then?" She said.
He nodded and gave her a little quizzical smile.
“I hope that time will prove me right,” he said.
She made her way down the wide staircase to the waiting arm of the master of the neighbouring estate who was to take the place of her guardian at the wedding. She had no one to give her away; she would have liked Frederick, as he had been so kind to her, but she did not think Robert would allow it and it was probably a bad idea to make him feel of more importance than he was.
She did not know this neighbour at all; in fact she knew no one who would attend the marriage ceremony or the festivities afterwards. She could scarcely believe she had agreed to th
is after all and was very tempted to take the opportunity to run away and hide. But a promise was a promise and she would do her duty, both as a bride and as a wife. She closed her eyes and contemplated the marriage bed, remembered his threat of only a week ago, recalled his eyes on her naked breasts, and she shuddered. She hoped violence was not a prerequisite to consummation for him.
Flowers were scarce at this time of year, but a maidservant handed her a small bouquet of irises, which she took with a puzzled frown.
"His Lordship ordered them gathered this morning," the maid told her.
His late mother's fur cloak, flowers...the Viscount was showing himself to be a thoughtful man and Antonia wondered if these things were his own idea or whether someone had put him up to it, a woman perhaps. It would surely be a woman to think of these things and she felt a little stab of jealousy which she did not understand. She wondered just how important his promise of fidelity was. He could have promised anything just to get her to the altar, just to get his hands on his inheritance and his title. She would have little say in the matter afterwards.
It was a short drive in the carriage to the village and she sat in the corner, the fur cloak wrapped around her and watched the scenery go slowly past, the white fields, snow covered thatched rooftops of the scattered farmhouses. It was a wonderful sight but not one she wanted to see on foot in the freezing cold and she knew she had made the right decision, although she was still afraid of what the future might hold.
Robert watched the tiny figure walking slowly towards him, her arm loosely linked through that of the neighbour, and he knew a feeling of unreality. He had imagined this moment many times in the past three years, but it had been in a big London cathedral and the woman walking towards him was Camilla. Now he was relieved it was Antonia; he knew nothing about her, but he felt he knew even less about Camilla.
He also knew a brief moment of panic. He was suddenly afraid she might carry out her earlier threat to inform the priest she was being forced into marriage. But no, surely she would not do that, not now. She was really not at all devious or dishonest. He had taken the time to get to know her a little this last week and he thought it very unlikely she would get this far, then refuse to marry him. He pushed the thought away while he continued to watch her as she approached him.
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 39