“I suppose all women feel like that when they are in love,” Antonia said as if she was speaking to herself. “But why are men so different? They seem to be able to make love to two or three women at the same time without it perturbing them!”
“That is not love!” Felicity said. “It is something horrid! Harry says that because he loves me he can never even see another woman! They just do not exist where he is concerned!”
Antonia did not answer and Felicity suddenly put her arms around her sister.
“Oh, Antonia, help me, help me!” she cried. “I am so frightened, so terrified that I shall be made to marry this horrible Duke and never see Harry again!”
“I am sure it will be all right,” Antonia said soothingly. At the same time even to herself her voice sounded uncertain.
The Duke arrived at 29 Chesham Street precisely at three o’clock, and as a concession to the importance of the occasion he travelled in a closed carriage.
It was not a great distance from Berkeley Square to Chesham Street in Belgravia where the Earl had a small and comparatively inexpensive residence.
The Duke’s London carriage, with his crest on the painted panels and the accoutrements of silver, was extremely impressive. His horses were superlative.
The Duke himself was resplendent in a morning-coat which fitted him like a glove and his striped trousers were in the very latest vogue.
His top-hat which sat on the side of his dark hair had the curled brim which Locke had decreed as the dernier-cri and yet everything about him seemed to have that degree of casualness which only a well-bred Englishman could impart to his clothes.
An ancient Butler escorted the Duke up the twisting staircase to the first floor where the Earl was waiting for him in the Drawing-Room.
It had been the subject of another long controversy as to whether it would be more correct for the Earl to be waiting in the small, rather stuffy Study at the back of the house where he habitually sat.
But the Countess had decided it was not impressive enough and the chairs were so shabby that the Duke could not help noticing them.
The Drawing-Room, however, decorated with fresh flowers, was quite a pleasant room, despite the fact that there was a slight stiffness about it as it was usually kept for Receptions or other occasions when the Countess entertained formally.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” the Earl said with a bluff heartiness. “I am delighted to meet you. I knew your father, but unfortunately I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance since you were a boy.”
Try as he would he could not help a slight resentment creeping into the tone of his voice.
“It has been most remiss of me not to have invited you to Doncaster Park,” the Duke replied. “But as you must know, I am seldom in residence, being kept in London by my duties at the House of Lords or finding the Leicestershire packs provide me with better sport than those in Hertfordshire.”
“We are not a particularly good hunting county, Your Grace,” the Earl admitted. “Nevertheless we can occasionally get an exceptional day on the southern part of your estate. The coverts at Harmer Green, for instance, gave us the best run of the season last December!”
“I heard about it,” the Duke remarked.
“I think everybody who was out enjoyed themselves,” the Earl said. “I was unfortunately not in at the kill owing to the fact that I am somewhat of a heavy-weight. I lost my second horse.”
“That must have been bad luck,” the Duke said lightly, “but I dare say your daughter, Lady Antonia, supplied you with a graphic account of what happened.”
“Antonia?” the Earl exclaimed in surprise. “Well, as a matter of fact, she did, Your Grace. She rides well and so of course does my daughter Felicity.”
“I am sure both your daughters follow Your Lordship’s lead,” the Duke said politely.
There was a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Then the Earl ventured:
“You said in your letter, Your Grace, that you had the idea that our families should be more closely associated than they have been in the past. May I ask exactly what you mean by that?”
“I think you must already have a good idea of my intentions,” the Duke replied slowly.
“You mean marriage?” the Earl enquired heavily.
“That is what I had in mind,” the Duke agreed.
There was no doubt about the look of pleasure in the Earl’s face as he said:
“It is of course a suggestion, Your Grace, to which I shall give my whole-hearted consent and support. Although I say it myself, Felicity is a very lovely young woman. I feel sure you would like to meet her. Shall I send for her so that she can join us for a few moments before we go further into this matter?”
Without waiting for the Duke’s reply the Earl moved towards the bell-pull hanging at the side of the mantelpiece. Only as he reached it did the Duke say quietly:
“It was actually, My Lord, your second daughter I had in mind—Lady Antonia!”
The Earl’s expression was ludicrous. His hand dropped to his side.
“Antonia!” he ejaculated. “I think Your Grace has made a mistake!”
The Duke’s fingers were playing with his gold watch-chain.
“I think not,” he said. “Perhaps I was remiss in not stating clearly in my letter to which of your daughters I desired to pay my addresses. It is in fact Lady Antonia!”
“But—I never envisaged such a thing,” the Earl gasped, “neither did my wife. Antonia is the younger and...”
He paused and the Duke knew he was trying to find words in which to describe his second child.
“I am sorry if I misled you,” the Duke said, “But now that it is quite clear may I suggest, My Lord, that you ring the bell, as you intended?”
The Earl seemed too bemused to argue.
He pulled the bell. When the Butler, who had obviously been waiting outside the door, appeared he said sharply: “Ask Her Ladyship to come here immediately and—alone!”
“Alone, My Lord?”
“That is what I said,” the Earl affirmed.
The Butler withdrew and a few moments later the Countess rustling in silk and wearing almost every jewel she possessed, which were not many, came into the Drawing-Room.
Her face was wreathed in smiles and she held out her hand in a welcoming gesture as she said:
“Your Grace! How delightful to see you here! I have always longed to meet our nearest neighbour in Hertfordshire, and it seems unbelievable that the years have passed by without us becoming acquainted!”
“It does indeed!” the Duke answered. “But now, as His Lordship will tell you, the omissions of the past are to be rectified.”
“The Duke wishes to marry Antonia!” the Earl said abruptly.
“Antonia?”
The Countess was no less astonished than her husband had been, but quicker than he, she recovered her poise.
“I think you have made a mistake, my dear Duke. You surely mean Felicity, our elder daughter. She is lovely, so very attractive that I have always been certain she will make a brilliant marriage and make some lucky man extremely happy.”
“There is no mistake, Emily,” the Earl interposed before the Duke could speak. “His Grace means Antonia!”
“I do not believe it!” the Countess exclaimed. “How can you possibly wish to marry Antonia when you can have Felicity?”
The Duke began to grow somewhat bored with the argument.
“Of course,” he said addressing the Earl, “if you do not wish to give your consent to such a union I shall quite understand. In which case, My Lord, I can only withdraw and ask your forgiveness for taking up so much of your time.”
His words could not have caused more consternation than if he had cracked a whip under the Earl and Countess’s noses.
“My dear fellow, I am not saying you cannot marry Antonia if you wish to do so,” the Earl said quickly.
“No, indeed!” his wife interrupted. “Of course we should be thrilled and delig
hted to welcome you as a son-in-law, whichever of our daughters you prefer, but it is just slightly surprising. Antonia is...”
The Countess paused for a word.
“... the younger!” she finished lamely.
“I should like to make Lady Antonia’s acquaintance,” the Duke said.
“I will fetch her,” the Countess answered and casting a despairing glance at her husband went from the room.
“I am afraid I have been remiss in not offering you any refreshment,” the Earl said. “I see there is some wine on the table. Would you have a glass of sherry, Your Grace, or would you prefer port?”
“Neither, thank you,” the Duke replied. “I make it a rule never to drink in the afternoon. I find at most dinner-parties, especially those at Marlborough House, one has to drink so much that only the most strenuous exercise will shake it off the next day.”
“You are right! Of course you are right!” the Earl agreed. “Indeed it is difficult to refuse a drink when one is in convivial company.”
The Duke was thinking of a suitable reply to this rather banal chit-chat when the door opened and the Countess returned followed by Antonia.
She was wearing the same gown she had been wearing early in the morning.
But without the ugly bonnet she did in fact look more attractive, and as her eyes met those of the Duke he knew she was trying to tell him without words how grateful she was.
As she curtsied he took her hand and felt her small fingers tighten on his.
“May I introduce my daughter Antonia!” the Earl asked ceremoniously. “Antonia, His Grace the Duke of Doncaster has asked for your hand in marriage! I need not say how fortunate your mother and I consider you to be, and I hope you will be fully appreciative of the honour His Grace has accorded you.”
“I am indeed very honoured, Your Grace,” Antonia said in a quiet voice.
“I hope I shall make you happy,” the Duke said a little stiffly.
“And I hope that I may ... please you, Your Grace.”
“That will be all, Antonia,” the Earl said. “His Grace and I have various matters to discuss.”
He looked at his wife and added:
“I think, Emily, it would be best if we do so alone.”
“Of course, Edward,” the Countess agreed meekly. “Good-bye, Your Grace. My husband will, I am sure, invite you to dine with us either this week or next and I feel sure there will be a great many details of the marriage that we must discuss in the near future.”
“Of course, Your Ladyship,” the Duke replied.
The Countess curtsied and the Duke bowed.
Antonia curtsied.
Only as she turned towards the door and her father could not see her face was the Duke almost certain that she winked at him!
CHAPTER THREE
“To your health, Athol!”
It was the third or fourth time the gentlemen seated around the Dining-Table had drunk the Duke’s health and he fancied that some of them were getting a trifle ‘foxed’.
The dinner had been superlative. The Chef had excelled himself in order to impress the Duke’s numerous relations who had accepted his invitation to stay at Doncaster Park for his wedding.
The Duke realised that most of them came with not only a sense of relief that he was doing his duty to the family so that he could produce an heir, but also considerable curiosity.
They had none of them met Antonia: their innumerable suggestions that he should take her to Receptions, Dinner-parties or even Balls in London for the purpose of introducing her to the family had met with no response.
‘There will be quite enough for them to talk about tomorrow,’ he thought.
As if the idea of his wedding weighed heavily upon him, the Duke made an excuse to the cousin sitting next to him and went from the Dining-Room, aware that most of the party had not noticed his departure.
He walked across the huge marble hall which in Adam’s inimitable manner was decorated with classical sculpture set in alcoves, and ignoring the row of attentive footmen, walked down the front steps.
Reaching the gravel sweep in front of the house he turned not towards the garden but to the stables.
It was later than he expected it to be. Already the sun had sunk and it was neither light nor dark but twilight which made the great mansion look like the Palace in a fairy tale.
The Duke had meant to arrive at his country home far earlier. He had in fact told Mr. Graham to notify Ives that he would ride over The Chase before dinner.
He had looked forward to doing this, because as the flat-racing season was nearly over he had decided that he would now concentrate on steeple-chasing.
Accordingly he had instructed Ives to have a number of Grand National fences set out on The Chase incorporating some of the new land he had just acquired from the Earl of Lemsford.
It was something he had planned to do for some years, and while he had been phenomenally successful on the flat he felt it was a challenge to see if he could train horses which could prove themselves over steeple-chasing courses.
The Grand National Handicap Steeplechase which had first been run in 1839, took place on the last week in March.
Steeple-chases had meant a good old hell-for-leather match race across any naturally fenced country that was available.
The sudden prominence of the Grand Liverpool Steeplechase as it was called, was due to the fact that it was the first jumping race for a really desirable prize.
Twelve hundred pounds was the purse in 1839.
It was four miles across country mostly heavily ploughed, with twenty-nine jumps in all, fifteen to be negotiated on the first round, fourteen on the second.
Two years ago in 1868 a horse called The Laird had won the race although he was only fifteen hands high and he had won it again this year, amid scenes of great enthusiasm.
The Duke was determined that in 1871 his colours would be first past the post!
He had bought a horse called Black Knight which he fancied might be exactly what he required. It was an exceptional animal in appearance, but although he had heard a great deal about its performance he wanted to try Black Knight out himself.
Unfortunately his plan had gone awry because the Marchioness had exerted every wile that she knew to keep him with her.
Like all women, having persuaded him to marry against his better judgment, she was now bitterly regretting that after to-morrow he would no longer be free.
“How can I bear to think of you on your honeymoon, Athol?” she asked. “And how will you bear three weeks, or will it be more, away from England and me?”
“I shall miss you, Clarice, you know that,” the Duke said automatically because it was expected of him.
“Promise that when you are in Paris you will think of me every minute, every moment!”
Her arms went round his neck as she said:
“It will not be your wife who perturbs me and makes me so anxious for you, but those exotic, expensive houris with whom you spent so much of your time and money last year.”
There was no chance of the Duke refuting this, even if he had wished to do so, because the Marchioness’s lips, fiercely, passionately demanding, prevented him from speaking and anyway there was no need for words.
Later the Duke had extracted himself with difficulty but he was so late in reaching Doncaster Park that dinner had to be put back an hour.
There was only time for him to bathe, change and greet his numerous relations before they proceeded into the great Baronial Hall which Adam must have designed with just such an occasion as this in mind.
The Castertons were a good-looking lot, the Duke thought, looking down the table.
His aunts, his cousins and his grandmother all looked, if not magnificent, certainly aristocratic however old they became.
‘Breeding shows itself in bone-structure,’ he thought and was glad that, if he had to marry, his wife should come from an ancient family with a pedigree that was almost the equal of his own.
He had in fact seen practically nothing of her since their engagement had been announced.
Because the Duke felt that the numerous parties that would be given for them jointly and the endless process of being looked over by each other’s families would prove intolerable, he had insisted on the marriage taking place far more quickly than his future mother-in-law thought seemly.
There was however the excuse that in July everybody would be leaving London.
While for economy’s sake the Earl had decided that Antonia should be married in the country at their local Church, the majority of the guests could conveniently come down from London for the ceremony.
“Indecent haste, I call it!” the Countess remarked tartly. “At any rate it gives me a good excuse to buy you only a small trousseau. Your future husband is rich enough to provide you with anything you need, and what money we have would better be spent on Felicity.”
Her mother was being disagreeable, Antonia knew, simply because she could not adjust herself to accepting the fact that the Duke had offered for her rather than Felicity.
“I cannot understand it!” the Countess said over and over again.
Then finally she found an answer to what perplexed her and the Earl in the fact that Antonia rode so well.
“He has obviously heard what a ‘go-er’ she is in the hunting-field,” the Earl said.
“Felicity also rides well!” the Countess said, championing her elder daughter as she always did.
“Not as well as Antonia!” the Earl retorted.
Antonia thought during the weeks that preceded the wedding that her mother’s dislike expressed itself every time she looked at her and every time she spoke.
She had never made any pretence that Felicity was not her favourite child; but now, Antonia thought, what had been mere indifference where she was concerned had changed into something very much stronger and very hurtful.
There was however nothing she could do about it, while Felicity told her over and over again how grateful she was and how both she and Harry would bless her for the rest of their lives.
The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) Page 5