He’d left Antonia responsible for his daughter, no matter how inadequate she felt to that task outside the bounds of his estate. In spite of the enormous gratitude she owed him, they’d verged on their first quarrel when he’d insisted that supervising Cassie’s debut season presented few risks to Antonia.
Antonia had pointed out that someone from Northumberland might recognize her. Mr. Demarest retorted that her brother was the only likely candidate and he’d become a hermit since inheriting. Demarest also remarked—correctly so far, with the exception of that wily fox Ranelaw—that nobody looked closely at a companion. Even if they did, who would suspect dowdy Miss Smith was the renegade daughter of Lord Aveson? With his usual unbounded optimism, Mr. Demarest promised that if Antonia was safe from exposure in Somerset, she’d be safe in London.
After tonight, she didn’t feel safe. One misstep and her identity would remain a secret no longer. With that revelation, scandal would rise to drown not just her, but her cousins, in a tide of disgrace. And she still had to convince Cassie that Ranelaw wasn’t for her.
“There are regular mail deliveries, even to the wilds of Paris,” she said dryly. “Don’t imagine you’re beyond reach of nasty gossip, my girl.”
“Don’t you think he’s handsome?”
Knowing she fought a losing battle, Antonia tried to distract her. “Your father? Yes, he’s a fine figure of a man.”
Cassie smothered a belly laugh that would surprise the many admirers who praised her delicacy. “Not Papa. Lord Ranelaw. Toni, don’t pretend you didn’t notice. I saw you talking to him.”
“I was warning him away from you,” she said with perfect truth, if not with perfect completeness. Plenty else had gone on during that intense conversation in full view of the ton. Again she chided herself. How could she have been so reckless?
“I’ll wager he’s a wonderful kisser,” Cassie said in a dreamy voice.
“That thought is unbecoming in a lady,” Antonia said, even as she couldn’t help picturing that long, lean body. She was a tall woman but he’d towered over her. Cassie was right. He’d turned every other man there tonight into a nonentity. That’s what rakes did. She ought to know.
After her experiences, she’d imagined herself immune. She hadn’t found a man attractive in ten years. Once bitten, forever shy.
So why did the old, insidious heat stir at the sight of the depraved Marquess of Ranelaw? A man who made the other rakes she’d met seem complete scarecrows. She should be repulsed by his self-confidence and blatant sexual games.
She hadn’t been repulsed, curse her.
Now Cassie was starry eyed over the rogue. The headache that had threatened all night pounded in earnest at Antonia’s temples.
“You haven’t answered me.” Cassie was a good, sensible girl, but stubborn. Something else that would surprise th
e numerous swains she’d gathered since her advent into society.
Antonia was firmly of the belief that a little stubbornness stood a girl in good stead. But sometimes she wished Cassie was the gorgeous, empty-headed doll the world considered her.
“His swarthy skin contrasts unattractively with his light hair.”
You’re such a liar, Antonia.
Ranelaw’s unusual coloring was striking, drew the eye like his impressive height and lazy sensuality.
Damn him to hell.
Cassie gave another dismissive laugh. “Toni, what a fib. He’s as handsome as Adonis and you know it.”
“Forget what he looks like. He’s a sewer rat.” Her voice became urgent. “Cassie, for my sake, for your father’s sake, for your own sake, don’t set your cap at him. Men like that are heartbreakers.”
She waited for the girl to object. Or perhaps worse, continue praising the marquess. To her surprise, Cassie took her hand. “I’m sorry, Toni. I’m not silly. I know what’s at stake.”
She was tactful enough not to say, I know what a rake cost you. But she might as well have. Once a future just as bright as Cassie’s had extended before Antonia Hilliard. No longer.
Antonia returned Cassie’s clasp and glanced out the window. They were nearly home. “He’s not good husband material.” She meant it to her toes.
“Perhaps not.” Before Antonia could breathe a sigh of relief, she went on. “Although I’m sure he’s an unforgettable lover. One look from under his eyelids and I get all shivery. When he took my hand for the dance, I vow I almost swooned.”
“Cassie . . .”
“I know. He’s dangerous. But I’ve never met anyone like him. He makes me think of stallions and lightning and the ocean and long gallops across the moors.”
To her chagrin, Antonia knew exactly what Cassie meant. As a girl not much younger than Cassie, she’d experienced all those exciting urges and she’d let them ruin her life. The glittering life she’d been born to live was forever denied her because of her fatal weakness. No way would she permit that insanity to destroy this innocent girl she loved like a sister or the daughter she’d never have.