The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) Read online

  They stopped a little earlier than they had the night before, simply because both they and the horses found it difficult to go any further.

  The heat of the day had changed when the sky became overcast and a chill wind began to blow across the open countryside.

  For the first time Antonia wished that her smart pique habit was more substantial, and that she had not thrown away all the shawls in which she had disguised herself for leaving Paris.

  She did not complain, but the Duke must have known what she was feeling because a mile later he said:

  “I see a barn ahead. If, as it appears, it is not connected to a farm-house, I think that is where we will stay the night.”

  The barn was in fact some distance from the farmhouse which lay about a quarter of a mile away.

  What was more, it was half full with hay, which provided not only fodder for the horses but a comfortable resting-place for two very tired people.

  They ate a little of the dry bread and the pate which still tasted quite pleasant, although rather monotonous. Then Antonia sank down into the hay.

  “I would not change this,” she said, “at the moment for the most comfortable mattress in Doncaster Park!”

  The Duke picked up some handfuls of hay and covered her with it.

  “This will keep you warm just as effectively as a woollen blanket,” he said. “I should have thought to suggest that you brought a riding-cloak with you.”

  “I should have thought of it myself,” Antonia replied, “but it was so hot in Paris.”

  “I think it is going to rain.”

  The Duke lay down on the hay and they neither of them heard the rain pouring down in the night.

  But when they left the barn in the morning the earth felt fresh and the horses seemed to respond to the coolness in the air.

  They stopped to water the animals at the first stream and then they were off again.

  Antonia hoped and prayed that they would reach the end of their journey before nightfall. She would not have admitted it to the Duke but her body was feeling very stiff and the saddle was not a comfortable one.

  The day seemed unaccountably long, but she knew hopefully that the end was near when the Duke insisted on her drinking quite a lot of the last bottle of wine and then threw it away.

  “Only a few more hours,” he said encouragingly.

  “You can manage?” Antonia asked anxiously.

  “I am worrying about you and not myself!” the Duke answered.

  “That is ridiculous!” she protested. “You are the invalid.”

  She knew as she spoke she had said the wrong thing.

  “I am nothing of the sort, Antonia,” he said almost sharply, “and this would be a taxing journey for any woman, even an Amazon like yourself.”

  He was teasing her and she felt happy because he was well enough to do so.

  As the hours dragged by she grew tireder and tireder.

  Fortunately the horses kept together and when she thought the Duke was not watching her she was able to hold on to the pommel of her saddle.

  “I must not fail him now,” she kept telling herself. “We have got so far. I cannot let him down at the very last moment.”

  But the very last moment seemed far away and when finally they clattered over the cobbled streets of Le Havre she thought that if a whole battalion of Prussian soldiers was waiting for them she would be unable to make any effort to escape.

  Now she made no pretence of not holding on to the pommel with both hands, and the Duke reached out to take the bridle of her horse as they rode down to the Quay.

  She had heard him giving orders; she felt him lift her down from the saddle and help her into a boat. Then there was a blank.

  “He should have been the one to collapse, not me,” Antonia told herself and was ashamed that she had so little fortitude.

  She wondered what time it was and even as she thought about it, the door of the cabin opened very softly and she knew someone was peeping inside.

  “I am ... awake!” she said and her voice sounded hoarse and strange.

  “I thought you might be, Your Grace.”

  Tour came into the cabin and pulled back the curtains over the portholes.

  “We are safe!” Antonia exclaimed.

  “You are indeed, Your Grace. There are no dangers in Southampton Harbour.”

  “Southampton!” Antonia queried. ‘But how can we have got here so quickly?”

  Tour smiled.

  “You slept all of yesterday, Your Grace, in fact you have been asleep for two nights, a whole day and it is now nearly noon!”

  “I cannot believe it!’ Antonia exclaimed. “And His Grace?”

  She waited apprehensively in case Tour should tell her the Duke was ill.

  “His Grace also slept the whole way over. He had a little dinner last night and went straight back to sleep.”

  “He is all right?” Antonia enquired.

  “Fit as a fiddle, Your Grace. There is no need to worry about him.”

  “And the journey did not hurt his wound?”

  “It appears to me not to have changed in any way since I last saw it in Paris.”

  “Thank God for that!” Antonia exclaimed.

  “And thank God you and His Grace arrived safely,” Tour said solemnly.

  “And you,” Antonia added. “Was it a difficult journey?”

  “It had its unpleasant moments, but I will tell Your Grace about them another time.”

  He bent down as he spoke and Antonia saw him pick up her dusty travel-stained riding-habit which was lying on the floor.

  “I expect Your Grace would like a bath,” he said, “and I have some good news for you.”

  “What is it?” Antonia asked.

  “When I came aboard I found that when six weeks ago, Monsieur Worth passed through Le Havre on his way to England, he saw the yacht in the harbour and asked to whom it belonged.”

  Tour paused to make what he had to say even more dramatic.

  “When he learnt it belonged to His Grace, he sent aboard the trunks in which he was conveying Your Grace’s purchases to England.”

  “Oh, Tour, I cannot believe it!” Antonia cried. “How wonderful! Bring me my bath, and then I will make myself look respectable for His Grace.”

  “His Grace has gone ashore, so there is no hurry,” Tour replied. “First I must get Your Grace something to eat.”

  Antonia smiled.

  “As you mention it,” she said, “I do feel ravenously hungry.”

  She ate what seemed to her an enormous amount of eggs and bacon, while Tour filled her bath with hot water and brought one of the trunks that Monsieur Worth had left for her into the cabin.

  There was a fascinating choice of garments, but knowing it was likely to be colder in England than it had been in Paris, especially late in September, Antonia chose a gown of heavy satin.

  It had a short jacket fastening into the waist and was trimmed with a collar of ermine, with the same fur on the cuffs.

  She washed her hair and was appalled at the amount of dust it had accumulated on the ride and from sleeping in the hay in the barn.

  While she had a little difficulty in arranging it, when it was surmounted by one of Worth’s chic little hats she looked very fashionable and very un-English.

  She knew when she went on deck that the Captain and the crew looked at her in undisguised admiration, and she only hoped the same expression would be echoed in the Duke’s eyes.

  He was standing near the gangway, exceedingly smart and looking as if he had undertaken nothing more strenuous than a ride in the Park.

  Antonia found it hard to look at him.

  Now they were back to normal life and there was no danger, no urgency, she felt as if they were drifting apart.

  She wanted to cling onto him and to beg him not to leave her.

  “I love you, I love you,” she wanted to cry, but instead with a commendable control, she said:

  “Good morning, Your
Grace. It is delightful to be home.”

  “Are you ready to go for a drive?” he asked.

  “A drive?” she questioned. “I thought we should be taking the train to London.”

  “We are not going to London,” he replied. “Not unless you particularly wish to do so.”

  She waited for him to explain and he went on:

  “I have a cousin, the Earl of Manford, who lives near Southampton. I have already called at his house to find that he and his wife are in Scotland. I have therefore arranged with his Secretary who is in charge, that we shall stay there for a few days. I think we have both done enough travelling for the moment.”

  He smiled at Antonia as he spoke and she felt her heart turn over in her breast with excitement.

  She was not to lose him immediately! He was not in such a hurry as she had feared to see the Marchioness again.

  They would be together and she could not imagine anything that would be more wonderful.

  The Earl’s house was only a few miles outside Southampton and the Duke drove her there in the smart Phaeton which he explained also belonged to his cousin and which was drawn by two horses.

  Antonia had to exclaim in delight at the sight of them. Then she said:

  “Perhaps they only appear so superbly well-bred after the two which carried us from Paris.”

  Then she added quickly:

  “Do not think I am disparaging their splendid performance in bringing us to safety. I only wish we could have explained to them how grateful we were.”

  “I gave them to the man who owns the local Livery Stables,” the Duke said. “I also gave him quite a considerable sum for their keep on condition he rested them for at least a week. I think he will appreciate their worth.”

  “That was generous of you,” Antonia said gratefully.

  “I do not think either of us will forget that ride or the horses that carried us,” he said quietly.

  “I could never forget it,” Antonia said in her heart. “We were alone ... he was with me both by day and by night ... for perhaps the last time!”

  The house belonging to the Earl of Manfred was impressively Georgian with a delightful garden.

  There was a staff of well-trained servants and Antonia was shown into a large, elegantly furnished bed-room which compared favourably with the State rooms at Doncaster Park.

  There was a canopied and curtained bed in a rose pink that she thought was particularly becoming to herself. Only she remembered that the colour was of no importance as she would be sleeping alone!

  The last two nights she had slept beside the Duke her body had been touching his and the first night she had held him in her arms.

  “That will never happen again,” she told herself miserably.

  Suddenly the fact that they were back in civilisation swept over her with a feeling of despair! Now she would lose him!

  She had had him to herself for so long that she could hardly remember what it was like before he had been there. To the exclusion of all else, she had concentrated all her thoughts, her feelings and love on him.

  Yet she had promised him when he had asked her to marry him that she would be unobtrusive and would make no demands upon him. Now she must keep her promise.

  ‘I cannot imagine anything more humiliating,’ she thought, ‘if he realises that I love him and he had to make it clear to me that he is not interested.’

  What was more, she thought, such knowledge might make him feel uncomfortable, perhaps embarrassed, in which case she might see even less of him than she would do otherwise.

  “I have to be very sensible, and very brave about this,” she told herself, but was near to tears.

  She forced herself to take an interest in her trunks which had been brought to the house by Tour and had followed them from Southampton in a travelling carriage also provided by the Earl’s staff.

  Before she had left the yacht, Antonia had remembered to ask about the Duke’s clothes.

  She learnt that he always had an extra wardrobe kept aboard the yacht in case he wished to embark at a moment’s notice without the necessity of waiting for a valet to pack for him.

  He was therefore looking resplendent and just as elegant as on their wedding night, when Antonia entered the Salon before dinner.

  The sun was sinking and the crimson and gold sky cast a warm glow into the long room with its French-windows opening out onto a balustraded terrace.

  Antonia stood just inside the door, her eyes seeking the Duke’s and for a moment it was hard to move forward.

  She had spent a long time choosing what she would wear, changing her mind a dozen times.

  Finally she had let the maids dress her in a gown of cardinal red which made her skin seem almost translucent.

  It was however not a heavy gown despite the depth of colour.

  It was ornamented with the soft tulle, expensive satin ribbons, frills and fringes which Worth had made fashionable. They accentuated the perfect curves of Antonia’s figure and gave her an alluring femininity that was unmistakable.

  Slowly she walked towards the Duke.

  “These surroundings are somewhat different from our lodgings last night,” he said with a smile, “and although I had a good luncheon I am still hungry.”

  His eyes were on her face as he spoke, and she had the feeling that he was talking as if he had to bridge a certain awkwardness which lay between them. But what it was she did not know.

  Then as he raised her hand to his lips, she wanted desperately to hold on to him because she was afraid he would vanish.

  ‘He will leave me now we are home,’ she thought despairingly, but aloud she said:

  “Tour tells me your shoulder has withstood the journey well.”

  “I am well,” the Duke said firmly. “It is what I have waited for, for a long time, Antonia.”

  She looked at him enquiringly, but at that moment dinner was announced and she put her hand shyly on his arm as he led her towards the Dining-Room.

  The Earl’s chef was not as skilled as the one employed by the Duke in London, but Antonia thought that never had a meal tasted more delicious.

  She kept remembering how dry and hard the bread had been the last day of their journey, and how tired she had been of the pat£ which seemed less appetising every time they sampled it. The cheese too had been over ripe from being carried in the saddle-bag.

  She thought now that the fish, fresh from the sea; the beef, from the Earl’s own herd; the pigeons, roasted until they were exactly the right tenderness, were an epicurean feast.

  The Duke insisted that she should drink a little champagne.

  “It will take away the last vestige of tiredness,” he said.

  The Duke had found out the latest news from France and he told her that Strasbourg had surrendered after a gallant defence, following the bombardment which had destroyed the magnificent old library and killed many civilians.

  “War is such a waste!” Antonia exclaimed. “It destroys not only people but also history.”

  “That is true,” the Duke agreed, “and it seems incredible that the French should have gone to war without finding out more accurately the strength of the German armies.”

  “I suppose the Prussians are very pleased at the way things are going,” Antonia said in a low voice.

  “Cock-a-hoop!” the Duke replied, “and I am quite certain they will extract every ounce of humiliation possible from the French.”

  “We can only pray that Paris will be spared,” Antonia said quietly and hoped that Labby would be safe.

  When dinner was over she and the Duke moved into the Salon. The sun had now sunk and it was twilight outside, with a few stars in the sky.

  The candles had been lit in the Salon and the curtains were drawn in all the windows except one. Antonia stood looking out, and then drawing a deep breath she said in a very small voice:

  “I have ... something to ... tell you.”

  She turned round as she spoke to walk back towards the
Duke who was standing in front of the fire-place.

  A fire was lit in the grate in case, as the Butler had explained, they should feel cold, but Antonia at the moment was cold, not from the temperature, but because she was extremely nervous.

  The Duke set down on the mantelpiece the glass of brandy he held in his hand.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “It is ... something which may make you very ... angry,” she answered, “but I ... have to tell ... you.”

  “I promised you the night we married that I would try never to be angry with you, so I cannot imagine what it can be.”

  “It is ... something of which I am very ... ashamed.” She twisted her fingers together as she trembled, and he said quietly:

  “It is not like you to be afraid, Antonia.”

  “I am ... afraid of making you ... angry.”

  “Then I will not be.”

  “You have every ... right to be,” she said miserably. There was silence and after a moment the Duke prompted:

  “I am waiting to receive the momentous confession.”

  His voice sounded almost apprehensive but for a moment Antonia thought she was struck dumb and would never be able to speak again.

  “It is my ... fault that you ever had to ... fight the ... duel.”

  The words came out with a rush and as she looked up at him for a fleeting second he saw the stricken consternation in her eyes.

  “I spoke without ... thinking,” she went on. “I did not know the Count was the husband of the lady you were ... with.”

  And there was a little sob in her voice as she continued:

  “When he asked me where you were I replied you were in the garden with a very fascinating and alluring lady ... whom I ... suspected of being an old ... friend.”

  Antonia’s voice faded away and then she added:

  “How could I have been so foolish ... so idiotic to say such a thing without ... knowing to whom I was ... speaking?” There was so much self-accusation in her voice that it seemed to vibrate in the air.

  The Duke gave a sigh, almost as if it was one of relief, Antonia had no idea what he might have been afraid of hearing.

  “You must not blame yourself,” he said quietly. “The Count would have found an excuse sooner or later to fight me as he had always wished to do.”