‘It will grow. I have the greatest admiration for love matches – after all, look at the example of my aunt and uncle. But very few people begin their married life with such strong feelings.’
‘And what would happen if you found the woman for whom you could feel such emotions after we were married?’
‘I would not look,’ he teased, squeezing her shoulder.
‘All men look, it is your nature,’ Antonia retorted, laughing, feeling surprisingly cheered. ‘No, Jeremy, I like you too much to marry you. Now come, admit it, I am not breaking your heart, am I?’
‘Madam, it is in pieces at your feet.’ He assumed an expression of anguish. ‘It will be noon tomorrow, at the very earliest before I have recovered.’
‘Mountebank. Help me to my feet, we cannot sit out here all night and I am ready to sleep on my feet. Goodness knows what hour it is.’
As they strolled through the silent night, Jeremy asked sombrely, ‘This is all very well, but what will you do now? You are sure to encounter the Duke again.’
‘I shall pretend none of this happened. After all, he can say nothing without casting himself in a most unfavourable light. If an engagement between you and I is not announced, he will just see it for what it was, a device to get over the awkwardness of the moment.’
When they arrived at the back door of the Dower House Antonia retrieved the big key from under a flower pot and unlocked the door. She turned back to Jeremy. ‘Good night, dear friend. I am sorry I have embroiled you in such a coil.’
Jeremy smiled, then bent to drop a brotherly kiss on her cheek. ‘Do not give it another thought, my dear…’
‘Antonia,’ Donna’s cry of outrage sounded like a shout on the still air. Both Antonia and Jeremy started, presenting a picture of perfect guilt, she realised as she tried to suppress an hysterical laugh.
Donna, hair in curl papers, her thin body encased in a flannel wrapper of hideous design, stood brandishing the poker she had apparently snatched from the kitchen range on her way to investigate the stealthy footsteps she had heard approaching the house.
‘Libertine! Blackguard! Rest assured your uncle shall hear of this you... you... whitened sepulchre, you!’ she stormed.
‘Donna, please put that poker down and stop abusing poor Mr Blake. He has done nothing to warrant your wrath – he was merely seeing me safely home after my walk.’
‘Your walk? At three in the morning? A tryst, more like.’
Jeremy passed his hand wearily over his brow. Miss Donaldson, madam, I can assure you...’
But Donna was well into her stride and was not to be deflected. ‘And I can assure you, sir, that you will marry this poor child at the earliest moment it may be accomplished without scandal.’
‘Jeremy, go.’ Antonia pushed her much put-upon friend in the direction of the back gate. ‘Donna, we will go inside and I will explain it all before we waken Jane. Then there would be a scandal.’ She wrested the poker from Donna’s grasp and pushed her down on a chair before the flickering light of the kitchen range.
‘That it should come to this. I only thank Heaven your poor mother is not alive to see this day,’ Donna moaned.
‘Oh, do be quiet, Donna,’ Antonia snapped. ‘Poor Mr
Blake met me quite by chance by the riverbank. I went for a walk because I could not sleep and he was listening to the nightingales. I had a fright because of... something I thought I saw in the undergrowth and Mr Blake came to my rescue.’
‘That’s as may be,’ Donna was still not mollified. ‘He took advantage of you – I saw him kiss you.’
‘If I had a brother living, he could not have kissed me more chastely, Donna. Jeremy Blake is my good friend, and only a friend.’
To her alarm and utter astonishment, Donna responded by bursting into tears.
‘What is it?’ Antonia fell on her knees beside the chair. ‘Were you very frightened because you thought we were burglars?’ She took Donna’s hands in hers and chafed them gently. ‘You were very brave.’
‘But we thought, we hoped, you were going to marry him,’ Donna lamented.
‘Who? Who is we? You wanted me to marry Mr Blake? Then why make such a hue and cry? Oh, I am so tired I cannot think straight.’
‘Lady Finch and I had such hopes of you and Mr Blake, such a suitable match. And then to think that he was just another heartless philanderer and then to discover you do not wish to marry him, after all...’
‘Go to bed, Donna,’ Antonia said wearily. ‘We have both had an over-exciting night.’
Chapter Nineteen