‘In that case, allow me to help you.’ He stopped to right the fallen chair and set it to one side. ‘I believe I can reach the hooks if you will explain how you wish the fabric to hang.’
Antonia, hesitated before gathering up the muslin and handing it to him. ‘I am trying to achieve a soft curve across the top of the window. A little more… A little more fullness on the left… Perfect. If you can just secure it there.’
They stepped back together to admire the finished effect. ‘Now, what is the next task?' Marcus asked.
‘I am certain you did not come here to hang curtains. I really cannot trespass on your time, especially when you have a house party assembled at Brightshill to claim your attention.’
Marcus appeared not to have taken in a word she had said. He was gazing at her in an abstracted manner, a slight smile on his lips.
‘Marcus?’ she prompted.
‘I do beg your pardon, Antonia, I was quite some distance away. I was in fact in contemplation.’
‘That much was plain,’ Antonia said somewhat acidly. ‘Might I enquire what it was you were contemplating?’
‘Mmm? Yes, of course you may. Matrimony.’
‘Matrimony? What can you mean?’
‘I mean that I am intending to make an offer of marriage, Antonia.’
Her heart sank towards her slippers as the image of a fragile blonde figure emerging from the post chaise filled her mind. With a great effort of will, she forced a small smile to her lips. ‘I am flattered that you regard me as a friend to be confided in on such a delicate matter.’
He took her hand in both of his and looked straight into her eyes. ‘I do not make myself plain, Antonia, and perhaps I should not have approached you like this although, in the absence of either father or brother… In short, Antonia, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
Antonia gasped. She knew he found her attractive – his kisses had left her in no doubt of that – but she had never allowed herself to hope that anything more would come of it than a light-hearted flirtation.
She wanted to say, ‘Yes, with all my heart’, but her common sense held the words back. After all, he had made her no declaration of love, but in the past he had made a declaration of another strong motive for an alliance, his desire for her lands.
And he was a duke. Surely his world must be full of ladies who were prettier, better dowered and had more elevated connections than she had? Certainly a young lady of her class would be expected by Society to marry for position, but to become a duchess was far in excess of what she might aspire to.
His only reason for offering for her had to be the land. Gentlemen were obsessed with their estates, increasing them, perfecting them, and she supposed he was no different. There was a degree of liking between them, a frisson of desire and she was not totally ineligible, even if unlikely. But she had seen at first hand the destructive sadness of a marriage where the love of one partner, her mother, had not been returned by the other.
Marcus’s hands were warm and strong holding hers, she felt his gaze on her face but could not raise hers to meet it. If she did she knew she would lose all level-headedness. She swayed towards him, wanting to bury her face in his coat front, drink in the scent of him, give herself up to him.
Instead Antonia took a deep breath, gently freed her hands and sat down in the chair. ‘I am very sensible of the honour you do me, Your Grace,’ she began, surprised to find her voice so steady when her pulse was leaping.
‘But you are going to refuse me, are you not?’ Marcus’s voice was equally steady.
Chapter Twelve
‘Oh, no.’ Antonia did look up then, searching Marcus’s face for emotion and finding none. ‘I must… I must ask for time to consider my answer.’
‘I see. You would advise me not to give up all hope, then?’ he enquired drily.
He must be both surprised and, probably, insulted. He was a duke she kept reminding herself. Normally he could expect to get whatever he wanted.
‘How long would you require to make your decision?’
His lack of ardour helped her regain her own poise and Antonia’s reply was equally cool. ‘A few days. A week at most.’ He could at least seem disappointed, she thought resentfully.
‘Then we are agreed: I will raise the matter again a week from today, and until then, we will not refer to it. I trust you will still feel able to dine at Brightshill tomorrow. My sister is looking forward to meeting you.’
‘Your sister is here?’ Antonia was grateful for the change of subject. ‘Is she married? Is she accompanied by her family?’ It would not do to let him know she had been observing him at the King’s Arms.
‘Yes, Anne is the wife of Charles, Lord Meredith. He will join us later today, but my nephew and niece accompanied their mother.’
‘It must be pleasant to have children about the house.’ They must have been the charming children she saw arriving at the inn, greeting their uncle with so much affection.