Antonia was taken aback by his sarcasm. Apparently it rankled that she had not chosen to sell the property to him. ‘Dwindle? Certainly not. We have every intention of entering fully into the social life of the district as soon as we are established at the Dower House. I have retained control of the lands other than those attached to the Home Farm, so I shall have tenants to oversee. Indeed, I have every expectation of being rushed off my feet.’
‘I am reassured to hear it.’ His brow quirked with what Antonia had come to recognise as hidden amusement. ‘May I hope you will visit Brightshill? I have a house party assembling soon. We may even muster enough couples to get up a dancing party on occasion.’
‘I should like that very much,' Antonia responded formally, although the thought of finding something in her wardrobe to match the London fashions of his guests was somewhat daunting. The light breeze suddenly strengthened and she shivered in her light gown. ‘We should go in, Donna will be wondering what has become of me.’
Marcus led her back to the edge and delivered a rapid, but clear explanation of what needed doing with the rainwater hoppers. Then he took her hand to help her across the roof before she could feel dizzy again. At the window he ducked through it first, before turning and holding up his arms.
‘I can climb down by myself, thank you,’ she said, blushing at the thought of such close contact. Again.
‘Antonia, there are two ways of doing this. Either I turn my back while you scramble down, doubtless tearing your gown in the process, or I lift you. In the most respectful way, of course.’ Amusement danced in his eyes. She knew he was laughing at her, but suddenly she did not care. She would be in his arms, however briefly, would feel his strength keeping her safe.
Wordlessly she reached for him and found herself swung effortlessly over the sill and into the attic. Marcus held her for a fraction longer than necessary, before setting her down on the dusty floor. ‘Tell me,’ he began, looking down at her.
‘Yes?’ Antonia lifted her gaze to his eyes, noticed a smudge of whitewash on his cheekbone, a cobweb caught in his unruly hair and ruthlessly suppressed the urge to brush them away.
‘Have you retained the fishing rights?’ He smiled, teeth white in the gloom.
So, standing here so close to each other evoked the same memories in him, too. ‘No, I am convinced I would never make a good fisherwoman, no matter how much I try,’ she said with a shaky laugh.
‘Practice is what you need, Antonia,’ he murmured, his gaze warm on hers. ‘You must come to Brightshill and let me teach you.’ He put up one hand as if to touch her face, but dropped it as heavy boots sounded on the floorboards outside. By the time William Hunt came in there was a clear five-foot space between them and Marcus was commenting on the state of the plasterwork.
Marcus took his leave soon after and Antonia drifted back to the small salon, half-excited, half-irritated with herself. She had been out for several Seasons, had engaged in elegant flirtations with eligible men at balls and dinners, so why did Marcus Renshaw have this effect on her? Her heart told her she was in danger of falling for him, yet her head told her it was impossible. He was a duke, for goodness sake.
She had been thrown into his company in the most extraordinary circumstances, hauled up before him as a common criminal. And their meetings since then had been characterised by an intimacy which was most unseemly. Antonia told herself firmly that it was this improper proximity that was fascinating her. And as for the Duke, he no doubt flirted with any lady willing to indulge him, and her circumstances were perhaps unusual enough to have piqued his interest.
By the time she rejoined Donna she thought she had her unruly emotions firmly under control. Donna, however, missed very little and she should have remembered that.
‘His Grace has gone?’ she enquired as she put aside her needlework.
‘Some minutes ago,’ Antonia replied indifferently. ‘He and Hunt appear to have settled a most difficult question to do with the downspouts.’
‘Indeed. And that necessitated you romping all over the leads?’
‘Hardly romping.’ Antonia laughed lightly, flicking through the day’s post. ‘The height is most disconcerting, although the view is wonderful, and I have learned all about rainwater hoppers.’
‘So you spent the entire time up there discussing drainage and the view?’
‘Oh, we spoke of our plans for the Dower House. And the Duke was kind enough to extend an invitation to Brightshill shortly. He is assembling a house party.’
‘Then I am not entirely without hope,’ Donna observed archly.
‘Hope?’ Antonia turned to look at her. ‘Of what?’
‘Of your moving in Society, of course, as is fitting.’ Donna kept her countenance schooled, but Antonia had the distinct impression that that was not her meaning.
Chapter Ten
‘Antonia, if you cannot find any rational occupation within the house, then please go ou
t and take the air, for I declare you are positively fraying at my nerves with this incessant fidgeting.’
The uncharacteristic sharpness startled Antonia. ‘Am I fidgeting? I am so sorry, I was not aware of it.’
‘You have done little else the past two days,’ Donna said more kindly. ‘You have embroidered two flowers on that scarf, only to pull both out again. The pages of that volume of Shelley’s poetry are still uncut, there are two letters awaiting reply from your cousin Augusta…’
Antonia put up her hands to stem the flow. She knew Donna was right, but she felt she could not settle to anything now the workmen had left and the big house stood ready for its tenant. Outside the windows the trees were heavy with fresh greenery, the newly-planted pleasure grounds were breaking with new growth and the very air was heavy with the promise of summer just around the comer.
‘If only we knew what was happening, whether Sir Josiah has decided to take Rye End Hall. It is a week now since Mr Blake’s visit and I had expected to hear from him several days ago.’ She paced restlessly across the drugget protecting the newly-laid carpet. ‘Donna, what if Mr Blake has failed to persuade his uncle? What shall we do then with all this money laid out and no way of repaying it?’