One o'clock was striking as he dismissed his valet from his bedchamber.
"I will undress myself, thank you, Dale. And if you see my sister as you leave, tell her I have already retired."
"Very well, my lord." The valet~ used to Marcus's ways, bowed himself out, leaving his master staring rather grimly at the big bed.
Marcus shrugged out of his swallow-tailed coat and waistcoat, removed his cravat and pulled on a light silk dressing-gown. He had no doubt that his solitude would soon be interrupted by Claudia, lured by the promise of his kiss in the conservatory. He could not have given her a much clearer signal that the weeks of denial were over--and that tonight he wanted her in his bedchamber.
Restlessly he tugged aside the heavy curtain and looked out over the pleasure grounds, then his focus changed and he found himself regarding his own reflection as though in a looking glass. "You damn fool," he addressed his image dispassionately. "What a coil."
He was still at the window when the door opened quietly and Claudia slipped in. He watched her without turning as she tiptoed across the carpet, her negligee of gold silk gauze moulding her voluptuous body.
She pressed her palms flat against his shoulder blades, then ran them insinuatingly down the planes of his back until she~ ached his waist.
Marcus turned then, catching her wrists in his hard grasp, arresting their knowing progress. "Darling," she pouted, 'you are so masterful.
" She shivered and looked into his face, her tongue-tip running lasciviously round the full curve of her lips. " It has been so long, Marcus. come to bed now. "
She started to back towards the fourposter, only to be pulled up short and none too gently by Marcus's immobility. "Mmm..." She smiled wickedly at him. "So you want to do it here."
"
"No, Claudia, I do not. And I do not want to take you to my bed, now or in the future, It is over."
Looking into his hard face she could not doubt it, but ever a fighter, she was unwilling to concede defeat: "I do not believe you! The way you kissed me tonight tells me you do not mean it'!"
"I had to make sure you would come to me: there is nowhere else in the house we can be certain of being alone."
Ready tears started in the lovely blue eyes~ "Marcus, how can you be so cruel? You know you love me, and I have been faithful to you, only to you. :'
"Faithful to my fortune, my dear Claudia. I have never had any doubt that you would remain faithful to that while you had any hopes of presents--or until a bigger, richer, fish swam by."
The tears slid decoratively over the pink cheeks, but a hardening anger was forming in the depths of her eyes. "How could you be so cruel?
Inviting me down here only to spurn me when I have done nothing to incur your displeasure. Come, darling, come to bed. You are tired and cross, let Claudia make it better..." She wriggled seductively, sending the gauzy fabric sliding from her shoulders. Only the fact that he was still hold' rag her wrists prevented the entire garment slipping to the floor.
"Yes, Claudia, I could go to bed with you. You are a very beautiful woman. But that beauty is only skin deep; it took me but a few weeks to realise that. You knew it was over, you knew I did not want you here, yet somehow eou cozened my sister into inviting you down. Since you arrived, I have done nothing to encourage you, yet you persist."
"But I love you, Marcus," she wheedled.
"You love only yourself. You are vain, self-absorbed, cruel and dismissive of others' feelings. You are redeemed only by your beauty--for so long as that lasts, my lovely. Do not frown so, Claudia, frown lines are so very ageing."
"That did not concern you when you were in my bed taking your pleasure of me," she hissed, two hot spots of colour mottling her cheek bones.
Marcus dropped her wrists and stared down at the spiteful little face that tonight, despite the artful maquillage, had lost every iota of its freshness and appeal. "But then you managed to hide those characteristics from me so well, did you not?"
Claudia reached up one long-nailed finger and ran it scoringly down his chest, exposed by the open shirt neck. "I hid nothing from you, remember...?"
Marcus did, vividly. Then he had been consumed by passion for the sophisticated, available---oh, so very available--Lady Reed. The burning desire had been short-lived; now he felt only distaste that he had surrendered so easily to her lures. A reflection of his thoughts must have shown on his countenance.
Claudia, her wheedling smile vanishing in a second, smack like an adder, the flat of her hand cracking across his gace so hard his head snapped back. Beyond touching the stinging weal with his fingertips, Marcus did nothing, but his eyes burned with a cold fire that stopped Claudia' sbreath. With a sob which was half-petulance, half-apprehension, she ran from the room, her negligee swirling in disorder around her.
Marcus stalked across the room and shut the heavy panelled door behind her, then slumped down into a wing chair before the empty grate. He stuck his legs out, easing the tension from his-long frame, then ran his hands through his hair.
Egad, that had been unpleasant! He blamed himself for having become entangled with Claudia in the first place. At first he had ad~'red her spirits and beauty, the courage with which she coped with an empty life married to a corrupt man old enough to be her father.
Society was full of grass widows, game for a fling with any gentleman who was willing. As long as everyone concerned was discreet, no one turned a hair, even when there were some aristocratic households where all a man could be certain of was that his first-born son and heir was his own.
But that sort of life had palled, Marcus realised. It was no longer enough to have passion without attachment--not since he had met Antonia.
A great weariness suddenly overcame him. Marcus shrugged out of his clothes and climbed into the great fourposter. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he must ride over and see Antonia as soon as maybe in the morning. He knew how much he must have hurt her 'in the conservatory, but he would explain how he had needed to shield her from Claudia's venom, and her vicious, gossiping tongue.
His next conscious act was to blink in the full glare of the morning sunlight as Dale pulled back the drapes at the long casements with their view east over the park. "Another fine morning, my oral I trust you slept well, my lord. Shall I direct them to send up your bathwater immediately?"
Dale, an immaculately trained valet, was well used to carrying on a one-sided conversation with his master, who was never talkative much before eleven in the morning. Encouraged by a grunt, he ushered in footmen carrying hot-water cans and began gathering up his lord-ship's discarded clothing from the day before.
So well schooled was he and so discreet that Dale had been known to retrieve intimate articles of feminine apparel and return them to the wear~'s lady's maid perfectly laundered and without even a quirk of an eyebrow.
This morning tumbled linen revealed no such embarrassments, however, somewhat to Dale's surprise: there was very little in an aristocratic household that escaped the notice of the upper servants. And later, when he noticed the faint braise on his lordship's cheek, he did not comment, beyond wielding the cutthroat razor with extra care.
Lady Meredith, sweeping downstairs an hour later with every intention of bearding her brother, encountered him in the hall, dressed for riding and pulling on his gloves as he gave orders to Saye, his head groom.
"And tell Welling to come with us, you can both ride over to Sir George Dover's and collect that bay gelding' I bought off hhn last week~ It is unbroken and will need both of you to bring it home." Seeing his sister, he paused. "Good morning,-Anne. I trust you slept well?"
"Marcus, must you go out now? I particularly wished.~ to speak to you." It was a demand rather than a request.
"I shall be back later, my dear." Marcus bowed over her hand, avoiding her gimlet eye. He had no doubt ~he intended to lecture him on the subject of Antonia; well, by the time he returned, her lecture would be redundant, and she would be too pleased with h
is news to scold him.
Anne, fulminating over her brother's escape, was even less pleased at the discovery that her sole breakfast companion was Sir George Reed, making a hearty meal of sirloin, ham and porter.
Marcus, meanwhile, giving the horse its head on the fine cropped down land grass, was in the best of spirits as he cut across the parkland to the Dower-House. The sound of the church clock striking ten reached him faintly over the pounding of three sets of hooves. The sun, though warm, was still tempered by the fresh early morning air and the prospect of bringing the smile back to Antonia's face lent urgency to the ride.
The old, twisted chimneys of the Dower House came into view behind a stand of trees and Marcus reined the mount in slightly, slowing him as he entered the lane that ran along the front of the property. At the gate he turned in the saddle. "Wait here, Saye." What instinct prompted him to keep the two grooms he could not say; something perhaps about the unwonted stillness of the normally bustling house.
Surely they were not still abed' he thought, as the heavy knocker dropped from his hand onto the old oak 'door. Anna appeared and dropped him a curtsy, her cheeks even pinker than normal,
"Good morning, your lordship,"
"Good morning, Anna. Is Miss Dane-at home?,
Anna's pretty country complexion grew more rosy. "No, my lord."
"Well, may I speak to Miss Donaldson?" So Antonia was angry with him still. That was not to be wondered at.
"Miss Donaldson is not at home, my lord," Anna recited with the air of a child repeating a lesson.
Marcus's lips tightened. "Do you mean," he enquired with dangerous civility, 'that the ladies are not here, or that they are not at home to me? ,
This threw the maid servant into even more confusion than he might have expected. "Yes,no." that is. " She took a deep breath and said desperately, " Miss Donaldson said as I was to say, that they aren't at home, your lordship. "
For a moment Anna thought his lordship was going to shoulder her aside and stride into the house, there was such a flare~ of anger in the dark eyes. But instead he nodded curtly, turned on his heel and vaulted into the saddle. Outside in the lane, the waiting grooms were startled to see their master urge his horse into a gallop away from the house.
"What are we supposed to do now?" Welling demanded. "Follow him or go for the gelding?"
Saye, well used to his lordship's sudden starts, dug his heels into the side of his hack. "Follow him---at least, until he rides off that temper."
ARer the first quarter of a mile, Marcus reined back to a more temperate pace, smiling grimly at his own mood. He was not used to being thwarted, and he was uneasily aware of how hurt Antonia must be feeling, but storming around the Hertfordshire countryside was no remedy. He would go back and write her a note.
He pulled up where the lane crossed the Berkhamsted road and watched the approaching grooms. If he sent the note with Josh Saye, who was courting young Anna, there was a good chance it would reach Antonia, more so than if he took it himself.
The men had just reached him under the shade of the chestnuts when a gig came bowling round the bend from the direction of the town. It was driven by young Jem, whose cheerful demeanour changed into a look of alarm tinged with shiftiness the moment he saw who was at the crossroads.
A sudden suspicion made Marcus snap, "Stop that gig," and the two grooms moved their mounts into the road.
Jem tugged his forelock. and shifted uneasily on the bench seat.
Marcus, still unsure why he had stopped him, urged his mount alongside the gig, then saw a he ribboned hat box on the floor.
"Where have you been, boy?" he demanded sharply. "NoWhere, sir," Jem responded sullenly.
"You speak proper to his lordship--' Saye lifted a hand threateningly or I'll thicken your ear."
"Do not bully the lad," Marcus intervened. "What is your name, boy?"
"Jem ... your lordship." Still he would not look up. "Jem, ah, yes.
You work for Miss Dane, do you not?"
Yes sir. '
"And have you been driving Miss Dane this morning?"
"Couldn't say, sir ... my lord." Jem's face was almost crimson.
"That is all ~right, em, you do not have to tell us anything you do not wish to. What a pity Miss Dane forgot her hat box," Marcus said sympathetically.
"No, she didn't forget it, she said there weren't no room in the eh~ He broke off appalled, one hand clapping itself to his mouth.
"No room in the chaise?" Marcus finished gently. "So your mistress has hh'ed a chaise, has she? And where is she bound?"
Saye advanced to the side of the gig. "You speak up when his lordship asks you a question, boy, or I'll have your ears off."
"You can boil me in oil and l won't tell you nuffm about Miss Dane," stammered Jem, almost in tears now.
"Stop bullying the lad. He is only being loyal to his mistress and no doubt following her instructions. Here, lad." Marcus fished in his waistcoat pocket and sent a half sovereign spinning through the air to the 'startled boy. "Do not worry, Jem, you have kept your silence well, now be off back to the Dower House."
The lad needed no urging and was off down the road as fast as the elderly horse could go. Marcus used his spurs-and-~-Sent his mount cantering off towards Berkhamsted.
"What the blazes?" Welling demanded.
"You hold your tongue and follow," Saye growled. He urged his own hack after his master, adding under his breath, "Never seen his lordship in such a taking over a woman before, and that's the truth."
The King's Arms was the only hostelry in the town that hired out carriages, but enquiries there were met with little information. Yes, Miss Dane had hired a chaise and four with two postillions, but no, neither the landlord nor the ostlers could say which direction she had taken.
"We've been very busy, my lord," the landlord explained apologetically, wiping his hands on his apron. "Market day, you see."
Marcus was standing in the inn yard, fists on hips, sizing up the possibilities: east for London or west for Aylesbury, when Mr. Todd the curate walked through the arch.
"Oh, good morning, my lord," he beamed, 'bowing obsequiously. "Why, all local Society seems to be abroad in Berkhamsted today. I was gratified to see Miss Dane earlier. Such a cha~ing young lady, such an ornament to our Society.. ?
"Mr. Todd, good morning to you, I Irust I find you well." Marcus regarded his curate with a speculative eye.
Splendid sermon last Sunday, I hope you intend to stimulate us again this week. " Marcus had, in fact, dozed through most of Mr. Todd's interminable pro sing on the subject otr the Ephesians, but he did not want to cause gossip by pouncing too readily on the subject of Miss Dane.
"Thank you, my lord, you are too kind. I was, in fact, intending to enlarge upon the theme of the dangers of heathen imagery.
"
Marcus allowed him to prate on until he drew breath at last, then slipped in a remark.
"I am glad to hear Miss Dane succeeded in finding a suitable chaise.
Now, where was it she was going... London, I think...?"
"Oh no, my lord," said Mr. Todd brightly. "She took the Chesham road."
Chesham, Marcus ruminated, why would she go south to Chesham? Unless she had some intention of disguising her destination, for once along that road she could turn off for either London or Aylesbury~ Mr. Todd was prattling again, but his lordship excused himself brusquely and strode back to his horse, leaving the curate to worry that he had somehow given offence to his patron.
"Saye, you and Welling take the Chesham road until you find which way Miss Dane's chaise has gone. When you are sure, send Welling back to me and you follow until Miss Dane reaches her destination, then send me word. Here-he tossed a leather purse to the head groom-this should cover your expenses."
Not waiting to see the two men follow his instructions, Marcus turned back towards Brightshill, a thoughtful expression on his face. He had come to expect spirited behaviour from Antonia, but even by her stan
dards, setting off alone in a hired chaise was extraordinarily daring. When he discovered where she had gone--and London or Bath seemed the most obvious destinations--he would follow. Still, for once in his life Marcus Arlington was discovering that events were not following his desires.
This impression was reinforced when, no sooner had he set foot over his own threshold, his sister pounced on him and marched him with scant ceremony into his study.
"Well?" Anne demanded. "Have you been over to speak to Miss Dane?"
Marcus sank into a deep chair and crossed his booted legs negligently.
"Yes."
Francesca Shaw - The Unconventional Miss Dane Page 22
