‘Gone? Gone where?’ Anne sat down abruptly in the chair opposite.
‘I have no idea, although I would hazard either Bath or London.’
His sister’s colour was rising to match her temper. ‘So you have thrown away the one chance you have of marrying someone who would suit you to
perfection and hurt a sweet girl into the bargain.’
‘I offered for her before our first dinner party here, and she turned me down.’ This was compressing events somewhat, and made no mention of Claudia’s role in it all.
Anne was not to be deflected. ‘l suppose you thought she would fall into your arms for the asking?’ she demanded. ‘After all, everything else does, does it not, Marcus?’
Startled by this attack, he pulled himself up in the chair and stared at her. ‘What can you mean?’
‘Ever since you were a boy, you have been admired and fêted, for your rank and your fortune and your looks. You have never had to be accountable to anyone for anything, which is no doubt why that sweet girl has refused your suit. No, hear me out,’ she held up a hand as he opened his mouth to protest.
‘You are a good brother and uncle and an excellent employer, but you are aloof, sometimes haughty. I am assuming you love Antonia? Have you told her so, or have you just presumed that the honour of being courted by the great Marcus Renshaw, Duke of Allington is sufficient?’
Before he could respond there was a discreet tap at the door and Mead entered. ‘Your Grace, I regret the intrusion, but Welling is here, saying you required immediate speech with him.’
Marcus stood. ‘Tell him to wait, Mead, I will be with him directly. Direct Bain to pack a valise for me. He turned to Anne and kissed her cheek. ‘This will be news of Antonia and I intend to follow her. Do not fret, my dear. What you say may be true, but I intend to rescue the situation.’
In the hall he waited only for three words from Welling, ‘London, Your Grace,’ before ordering the man to bring round his high-perch phaeton within the half-hour.
Anne hurried out on to the steps as Bain was stowing the valise under the seat of the carriage and preparing to climb up beside him. ‘Marcus!’
‘Give my apologies to our guests, Anne, and tell them I have called away to Town by urgent business.’
‘How will you find Antonia?’
Marcus bent down to touch her cheek. ‘Saye is hot on her trail, he will mark where she is staying and then await me at the Town house. I will find her, never fear.’
The carriage jolted over the London cobblestones, jerking Antonia’s mind back from the miserable circles it had been running round all day. Even in a swift chaise, with no money spared in hiring postilions and making changes whenever the horses faltered, the journey had seemed interminable.
In the country it would still be light at eight o’clock, but here, with tall buildings crowding all around and the press of humanity on the streets, the evening seemed well drawn-in.
Antonia had directed the postilions to Half Moon Street, hoping that her great-aunt had suffered no relapse and was therefore at her own home and not at Cousin Hewitt’s. To her relief, the knocker was still on the door and lights glowed from the windows.
As soon as the carriage steps were let down Antonia ran up to the front door which opened as she reached it, as if in greeting. But it was not for her. Hodge, her great-aunt’s long-serving butler, was in the process of bowing out the familiar portly figure of her cousin Hewitt Granger. As usual he looked smug and she took some pleasure in seeing his face change at the sight of her.
They had never enjoyed a happy relationship. Hewitt was deeply suspicious of Antonia’s position in his grandmother's affections and had been only too pleased to see her depart to Hertfordshire. But at the same time she was uncomfortably aware that Hewitt Granger found her attractive. He never lost the opportunity to touch her, squeeze her hand or stare blatantly at her figure in a manner that left her feeling somehow soiled.
Even as he regarded her now with suspicion and dislike in his pale eyes, Hewitt’s tongue ran over his lips leaving them shining wetly in the lamplight.
‘Antonia, what are you doing here? We did not look to see you in London again. Perhaps you sent a missive which has gone astray?’ One gingery brow rose in an attempt at superiority.
‘Good evening, Hewitt.’ Antonia dismissed him, and his questions, and turned to greet the elderly butler. ‘Good evening, Hodge. I trust I find you well? How is the lumbago? Better, no doubt, in this warm weather.’
The old man beamed back. ‘Much better, thank you, Miss Antonia. And may I say what a pleasure – ’
‘Now look here,’ Hewitt interrupted. ‘l do not know what you think you are about, Antonia, but you cannot go in there.’ He moved to block her entrance with his body. ‘Grandmother has been very ill, she cannot possibly see you and certainly not at this hour. You must go to an hotel.’
Antonia glimpsed the expression on Hodge’s face, the almost imperceptible shake of his head. ‘Fiddlesticks, Hewitt. I am here at Great-Aunt’s invitation. Now do step aside and let me past. You have grown so stout since we last met; I cannot but feel it will do you no good, especially in this warm weather.’ She regarded his face with cloying sympathy. ‘You really look rather hot and agitated, quite puce, in fact. Do go and rest. Goodnight, I will not detain you any longer.’
Hodge curbed the smile that was beginning to dawn on his face and said urbanely, ‘Your usual chamber is prepared, Miss Antonia. And Cook has your favourite supper all ready.’
Antonia, even knowing this was untrue, could detect no falsity in the butler’s tone. With another sweet smile at Hewitt, who was muttering indignantly, she slipped neatly into the hall. Her cousin was further discommoded by two footmen running down the steps to collect Antonia’s luggage from the chaise. Comprehensively ignored by everyone, he clapped his hat on his head and strode off towards Piccadilly.
Hodge beamed at Antonia. ‘I will ring for Mrs Hodge and have your chamber prepared directly, Miss Antonia. Do you wish to go in directly to her ladyship?’