Miss Dane and the Duke

‘Not since a bite of bacon at breakfast, ma’am. Long time ago, that was,’ he added, managing to sound half-starved.

‘Then go to the kitchen and tell Jane I said you were to have a bowl of soup and some bread. And when you have finished, go to the kitchen garden and see if there is any weeding you can do for Johnson.’ The lad grinned and dashed off.

Antonia spread the handful of letters on the table. ‘There is a note from Great-Aunt Granger. That is a hopeful sign, her handwriting seems much firmer. And a bill from the corn chandler for the chicken feed. And I think this is from Mr Blake.’ She broke the seal and spread out the crackling sheets. ‘Yes. He writes that Sir Josiah and Lady Finch will be arriving at Rye End Hall the day after tomorrow.’

‘How interesting.’ Donna put down her sewing and gave Antonia her full attention. ‘How soon do you think we should call? We must not be backward in paying our respects to our new neighbours. On the other hand they will no doubt be fatigued after their removal and one would not wish to intrude.’

‘Then let’s leave our cards in four days’ time.’ Antonia finished scanning her great aunt’s letter and handed both it and Mr Blake’s note to Donna. ‘Great-Aunt does indeed seem more like her old self, I’m glad to say.’ She pushed the ledger away and stood up. ‘These figures are giving me a headache. I think I will go for a walk. Will you come too?’

‘No, thank you, dear, I think I will remain here and finish this linen. Keep to the shade and do not forget your hat,’ Donna called after her.

Antonia strolled along the river bank, idly swinging her broad-brimmed straw hat by its ribbons and taking deep breaths of the warm air. Above her skylarks sang in a clear sky without a hint of cloud. The river glinted in the sunshine as it hurried along, its surface disturbed as fish rose to take flies from the surface.

She paused to pick dog roses as she went, sucking her finger as she pricked it on the thorns. Her spirits were rising as she walked and she began to sing under her breath. The trees closed in over the river in a green tunnel and she strolled beneath them, grateful for the shade and uncaring how far she had walked.

It seemed to her that she had her heart’s desire. She was in love with a man who wished to make her his wife, whose every action showed his desire for her. She had secured her family home from ruin and by her actions in the neighbourhood had made the name of Dane respected once more. To have found a husband so close to home was an added joy, because she had grown to love the rolling beauty of the countryside, to value the good relations she felt she had forged with her tenants.

With a start she realised how far she had ventured. Although she had never walked such a distance along this path before, she guessed she was on Brightshill land now. In fact, she calculated, if she walked on around that bend, she might be able to glimpse of the roof of the house where Marcus was. The evening, when he would come to her, seemed a long way away…

The turn of the river revealed a summerhouse built as a small Classical temple set on closely scythed grass. The lawns swept up towards the house, almost hidden by the rise of the land. It all seemed deserted, shimmering in the heat of the afternoon. Antonia gazed towards the house for a long moment, hardly believing that she would be mistress of it, perhaps before the year was out. A duchess.

The pillared portico of the temple was casting tempting shade and the day was getting hotter. Antonia realised just how far she had to walk back and decided that a few moments’ rest would be welcome. She sank gratefully on to a wrought-iron bench and fanned herself with her hat. Through gaps in the trees she could see the sky was no longer cloudless and great thunderheads were building, threatening a storm later. It might be as well to set out again before she was caught in the rain, she thought, standing up.

‘What are you doing here?’ Marcus’s voice enquired from behind her.

She whirled round, her heart beating with delight at the sound of his voice, then found she could not see him. Puzzled, she descended the short flight of marble steps and rounded the far corner of the summerhouse.

Trees had been planted to surround a grassy glade where the wild flowers had been allowed to grow unchecked in the natural style. A semi-clad goddess in marble gazed out to the river with unseeing eyes, a docile fawn at her feet.

For a moment Antonia stood enchanted by the tranquillity of the spot, then she saw Marcus. A hammock had been slung between two trees, providing a shady resting place, and he was lying, coat discarded, shirt open, a book and pitcher on the ground beside him.

What was he doing there when he had sent a message that he was engaged all day?

Whoever Marcus had spoken to, it was not her. His gaze was fixed on someone within the grove of trees, someone who at that moment emerged.

For a dizzy moment Antonia believed the statue had come to life and descended from its plinth, then she realised it was Claudia. Her hair was caught up in Classical ringlets, her body was moulded by the diaphanous muslin of a white gown. The garment, confined only by a criss-cross of ribbons at the bosom, was to Antonia’s eye, quite outrageous.

Claudia skirted the foot of the hammock to stand at Marcus's side, her back to Antonia. As the sunlight caught the gown, her limbs were clearly defined beneath the delicate skirts.

They were talking, low-voiced. Antonia, frozen to the spot, was unable to hear what passed between them, but through the bushes she could see Claudia reach out to brush the hair from Marcus’s forehead before leaning down and fastening her lips on his. Surely he would rebuff her, push her away?

Then, before Antonia’s startled eyes, his arms encircled Claudia, pulling her into his embrace. The hammock swayed wildly, the slender trees supporting it bent inwards and Claudia, ever graceful, subsided on to Marcus’s broad chest.

Seconds later the hammock tipped, tumbling them both onto the grass where they lay in a tangle of limbs, lips still joined.

With a sob Antonia whirled round and ran blindly back along the river bank, stumbling over roots, briars catching at her skirts.

/> Behind the summerhouse Marcus freed his lips from the voracious, experienced mouth above him and pushed Claudia Reed from his chest with more force than gallantry. The confounded woman had precipitated herself into his arms so that he’d had to catch her, then plastered her lips to his in a way that had sent masculine instinct triumphing over sense for a few seconds.

He raised himself on his elbows, panting slightly, and glowered at her as she sprawled enticingly at his side.

‘For Heaven’s sake, Claudia. What do you think you’re about? Anyone could have seen you.’

‘You said you would be busy all day and then I find you have sneaked off down here – surely you must be in need of company?’

‘The confounded constables left half the paperwork behind them and I am not sitting in a stuffy study until they return. And no, I do not require company.’ And especially not yours, he thought.

Claudia pouted prettily. ‘Why so hot for respectability, my love, when you used to be so hot for me?’