Even if he had, it wasn’t as if no other woman was called Antonia, especially in society’s upper echelons. This still wasn’t unassailable proof, even while his gut obstinately insisted that of course Benton was talking about his Antonia.
His Antonia who perhaps had once been Benton’s Antonia, God rot the bastard.
He felt suddenly trapped, suffocated. He needed to get out of here. Before he did something rash like murder this mongrel. Assuming Antonia was Benton’s long-lost and supposedly dead lover was crazy. He couldn’t breathe without thinking of her. She made him mad. Fresh air might clear his head.
Abruptly he rose and scattered a handful of coins across the table. They landed with a rattle, but Benton didn’t look up. He was too sunk in self-pity.
His belly churning with frustrated bloodlust and his mind buzzing with a thousand angry questions, Ranelaw strode into the freezing night and curtly ordered his horse.
Chapter Fifteen
For a fortnight after returning to London, Antonia managed to restrict Cassie to quiet strolls in the park and a few small gatherings at the house. The girl’s strength hadn’t fully returned, but her determination to rejoin the social whirl was so powerful, that scarcely mattered. Antonia tried again and again to convince Cassie to return to Somerset to convalesce, but she became so upset at missing her first season that it seemed less injurious to her health to remain in Town.
Eventually Antonia reluctantly consented to accompany Cassie to the Merriweather ball. But only after extracting the strictest promise that if Cassie felt ill, they left.
Antonia was well aware it wasn’t just Cassie’s well-being that made her desperate to escape London. She’d be a hypocrite of the first rank if she pretended it was.
She’d hoped giving herself to Ranelaw would cool the heat in her blood. Instead it only stirred demons she thought she’d conquered ten years ago. Demons that now tormented her, broke her sleep, made her unusually intolerant of everyone around her.
Tonight she’d see Ranelaw. He had at least one spy in the household so he’d know their plans. She’d considered dismissing the entire staff, but that seemed unfair to the honest servants. Anyway, she had a healthy respect for Ranelaw’s charm, not to mention his ready coin. She might as well stick to people familiar with the domestic routine.
Since their visit to Surrey, neither she nor Cassie had mentioned the disreputable marquess. He’d sent flowers and a note wishing Cassie a quick recovery, but Antonia hadn’t remarked upon his bouquet among the hundreds Cassie received.
When they entered the crowded Merriweather ballroom, Antonia immediately scanned the throng, seeking a tall man with guinea gold hair. She told herself it was for Cassie’s sake. She knew that for a lie.
The pressure around her chest eased when she realized Ranelaw wasn’t present. He was such a striking man, she couldn’t miss him.
Perhaps fate granted her one boon by keeping Lord Ranelaw away for the evening. Wild Antonia burned to see him, but her saner self had had time since that shattering encounter in the summerhouse to recognize the risks she took.
She turned to Cassie with her first genuine smile all night. “It’s quite a crush.”
Cassie looked ethereal and breathtakingly lovely in white silk, like a visitor from celestial realms. Antonia already noticed masculine heads turning in their direction. If she could divert Cassie’s attention from Lord Ranelaw, a number of men here would make her cousin a suitable husband.
“It’s going to be a wonderful ball.” Cassie returned Antonia’s smile.
Briefly Antonia forgot everything but the excitement in the girl’s eyes. How wonderful to be so full of life and hope. She said a silent but fervent prayer that Cassie kept this joyful spirit, that nobody crushed her girlish dreams the way Antonia’s had been crushed.
“Are you all right, Toni?”
An
tonia realized she blinked back tears. Dear God, she needed to get a grip on her emotions or she’d make an utter spectacle of herself. She’d been on edge ever since leaving Surrey.
“Of course I am.” She heard the betraying huskiness. If she wasn’t careful, Cassie would suspect something momentous had happened at Pelham Place. “I’m just thinking how pretty you look.”
Cassie thanked her very sweetly just before her coterie surrounded her. Most of her friends had called at the house during the fortnight—although thankfully not the Marquess of Ranelaw, which she knew irked Cassie.
Antonia lagged behind as her cousin glided through the crowd like a beautiful white swan. She’d never had a season, she’d broken all the rules before she entered the marriage mart. She wouldn’t be human if occasionally she didn’t envy these glowing, laughing young people.
You made your bed, my girl. Now you have to sleep on it.
She raised her chin, told herself to stop being a henwit, and made her sedate way to where she belonged, the chairs grouped in the corner. For one brief starlit moment, she’d become a woman who pursued what she wanted. That moment had passed.
The other duennas raised their heads and greeted her more warmly than she’d expected, although she soon realized they hankered after gossip about the house party. A chaperone’s life was stultifying. Scandal was the only spice permitted these women.
She closed her eyes and let her mind drift with the lilting music. In her imagination, a man’s arms enfolded her as they whirled around the room. Surely nobody could chide her if her fantasy man possessed Ranelaw’s features.
When she opened her eyes, it was inevitable she saw Lord Ranelaw bowing over his hostess’s hand and making her blush and giggle like a debutante. Antonia’s heart crashed against her ribs and her breath jammed in her throat.