The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) Page 6

  “As soon as you are married, Harry has decided he will speak to Papa,” Felicity said.

  “He had better wait until I come back from my honeymoon,” Antonia advised. “I will then try to persuade the Duke to say pleasant things about Harry to Papa and Mama and perhaps make them see him in a different light.”

  “Do you think the Duke would do that?” Felicity asked. “If he would, I am sure Papa would then think Harry was a suitable husband for me.”

  “I can at least try,” Antonia replied.

  She wondered as she spoke whether it would be easy to make the Duke do what she wanted and give a helping hand for the second time where Felicity was concerned.

  She did not have a chance however of approaching him on any subject and she had the idea that he might be relieved that they saw so little of each other.

  The Duke was in fact finding his time fully occupied with the Marchioness.

  She had been appointed a Lady of the Bedchamber and she thanked him for making it possible by being even more passionate and voluptuous in their moments of intimacy than she had ever been before.

  He wondered sometimes how it was possible for a woman who looked almost angelic to be a ferocious tiger when it came to love-making.

  As he walked through the high stone archway which led into the stables the Duke was thinking of the Marchioness.

  It was almost as if her arms were still clinging to him possessively and her lips were still like a consuming fire against his.

  Then he realised the stables were very quiet and knew the stable-boys had retired for the night.

  He wished now that he had sent for Ives when he first arrived and explained to the old groom why he could not go round the course as he had planned.

  Ives he knew would be disappointed.

  He had always wanted the Duke to go in for steeple-chasing, and now there would be much they had to discuss and a number more horses to be bought before they could really enter a new field in the racing world.

  “I am too late,” the Duke told himself. “He will have gone to bed.”

  The horses were all shut up in their stalls for the night.

  He was just wondering if he would have a look at Black Knight when he heard the sound of hoofs at the far end of the buildings.

  The stables were so extensive that in the dusk it was hard to see clearly what was happening, so that he heard rather than saw two horses being ridden into the stable-yard to enter the stalls at the far end.

  The Duke wondered who was out so late, and told himself that perhaps Ives was having a last look at the jumps and wished that he could have been with him.

  He walked on and as he drew nearer heard Ives speak to be answered by a voice he also knew.

  “I did it! I did it, Ives! It is the most exciting thing I have ever done in my life!”

  “You rode magnificently, M’Lady!” Ives replied. “But you’d no right to take that untried animal over the jumps, as you well know!”

  “But he took them like a bird!” Antonia insisted. “He hesitated just for a moment at the Water-Jump, then he stretched himself out and I swear not a drop of water touched his hoofs!”

  “Oi be sure of it, M’Lady, but that jump’s too big for a woman!”

  “Not for me!” Antonia said proudly.

  “Oi don’t know what His Grace would say, that Oi don’t!”

  The Duke stood still outside the stable.

  He was aware that Ives and Antonia were unsaddling the horses.

  There were two stalls side by side in that particular stable, Ives was rubbing down his mount making a whistling sound through his teeth that the Duke could remember hearing ever since he was a boy.

  “I am quite certain that Black Knight has a chance of winning the Grand National!” Antonia was saying. “You must tell the Duke so.”

  “And how am Oi to explain to His Grace what a good jumper the horse is?” Ives enquired.

  “He should have been here to see for himself,” Antonia answered. “We waited until it was nearly dark.”

  “That be true, M’Lady.”

  Antonia gave a little sigh.

  “Oh, Ives, I wish I were not going away to-morrow. I want to go round the course again not once, but a dozen times!”

  “Ye’ll enjoy yourself abroad, M’Lady. Oi hears as ye be going to France. Them Frenchies have some good horses!”

  “Do they? Yes, of course they have! I can see them at the races if His Grace will take me there!”

  She sighed again.

  “But I shall be counting the days until I can be back, to ride Black Knight for the second time.”

  “Oi’m only hoping, M’Lady that His Grace won’t consider the horse too strong for ye.”

  “You know he is not!” Antonia answered. “I do not think there is a horse I cannot handle!”

  “That’s true, M’Lady. Ye’ve a way with animals, as Oi’ve always told ye. ’Tis something as be born in a person. They either has it, or they hasn’t!”

  There was a silence during which Ives went on whistling through his teeth and the Duke was aware that Antonia too was rubbing down her horse.

  “How does the Marchioness of Northaw ride?” she asked in a low voice.

  “A Park-rider, M’Lady!” Ives replied disparagingly. “But she’s hard on her horses.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Antonia enquired.

  “A groom from Northaw Place were here t’day asking me what Oi uses as a poultice.”

  “You mean she has spur-galled her horse?” Antonia asked.

  “Oi be afraid so, M’Lady, and pretty bad the groom told Oi it were.”

  “How can these fashionable women be so cruel ... so insensitive?” Antonia asked furiously. “Seeing the way they ride, only trit-trotting in the Park, there is no reason for them to use the spur, especially the five-pointed rowel, unless it actually gives them pleasure.”

  Ives did not answer and after a moment Antonia went on, still with a note of anger in her voice:

  “Do you remember what Lady Rosalind Lynke did to the horses when she stayed here two years ago?”

  “Oi do indeed, M’Lady. We both worked hard on the horses she damaged.”

  “I have never forgotten it,” Antonia said.

  “No more have Oi, M’Lady,” Ives agreed. “And very helpful ye were. The horses were that nervous and restless from the harsh treatment they’d received that only ye could calm them while Oi applied the poultices.”

  “I wondered then, and I wonder now,” Antonia said reflectively, “what it is that makes those feminine frilly sort of women so cruel when they are on a horse?”

  “Perhaps it be a sense of power, M’Lady. Some women resent a man’s superiority, so they takes it out on a dumb beast what can’t answer ’em back!”

  “I am sure you are right, Ives, and I loathe them for their cruelty! I swear to you I will never wear a spur however fashionable it may be, or whoever tells me it is essential to the training of a horse.”

  She spoke passionately. The Duke turned and retraced his steps towards the house.

  As he went he was thinking not of the Marchioness but of Antonia.

  The carriage decorated behind with two horse-shoes, two old boots, its roof be-speckled with grains of rice, rolled away down the drive.

  The Duke sat back against the cushioned seat and thought with a sense of unutterable relief that it was all over!

  He had been spared, for which he was extremely relieved, a Wedding-Breakfast which might have lasted interminably, simply because there were too many guests for the Earl to consider entertaining them in such a lavish manner.

  Even if they had restricted the Breakfast to relations there would not have been enough accommodation in the Dining-Room at The Towers.

  The Church ceremony had therefore been followed by a Reception from which the Duke and his bride could escape in little over an hour.

  He had risen in the morning in a depressed mood which he could not shake off, ev
en though he broke his rule of never drinking alcohol at breakfast-time.

  The brandy, good though it was, did not seem to alleviate his sense of being pressured into doing something he had no wish to do and also his apprehension about the future.

  When he entered the village Church to find it packed to over-flowing and stiflingly hot, he had an almost irresistible impulse to back out of what he told himself was a ‘mockery of a marriage’.

  It had been Clarice who had instigated the whole thing, and as he came from the vestry accompanied by his Best Man and she smiled at him from the fourth pew, he told himself he would willingly strangle her!

  She was looking inexpressibly lovely and he thought that it was most insensitive of her to be present at his wedding.

  Since she was a near-neighbour, it might indeed have caused comment if she had refused the Earl’s invitation.

  At the same time she made him feel uncomfortable and he resented that, just as, he thought savagely, he resented everything else which was happening to him.

  There was a stir at the end of the Church and his Best Man whispered:

  “The bride has arrived! At least she has not kept you waiting!”

  The reason Antonia was on time, the Duke told himself cynically, was not that she was considering his feelings but that she would not wish to keep the horses that were conveying her from her home to the Church waiting in this heat.

  Having seen Felicity as she arrived, he could not help asking himself if he would not have been wiser to marry the girl Clarice had originally chosen for him rather than her unimpressive, horsy sister.

  Wearing a bridesmaid’s gown of pale blue that matched her eyes, and carrying a bouquet of pink roses which echoed the wreath she wore in her fair hair, Felicity looked extremely pretty.

  She was in a modest way with her pink and white beauty the counterpart of the Marchioness.

  Felicity had curtsied to him, and as she rose she said in a soft voice which only he could hear:

  “Thank you! Your Grace must know how very, very grateful I am.”

  What other man, the Duke asked himself angrily, in his position and with his reputation, would be thanked by a pretty girl because he had not asked her to marry him?

  He took a quick glance at Antonia as she came up the aisle on her father’s arm and told himself again he had made a mistake.

  It was very difficult to see what Antonia looked like since she wore a Brussels lace veil over her face.

  Her wedding-gown, which had a long train, was carried by two reluctant small children who were being almost forcibly propelled up the aisle by their Nurses.

  Behind them, Felicity was the only bridesmaid.

  The service was conducted by the Bishop of St. Albans and the local Vicar. The Bishop besides actually joining the couple in matrimony gave them an extremely boring address to which the Duke deliberately closed his ears.

  Then there was the drive to The Towers under triumphal arches made in the village with small nosegays of flowers being thrown into the open carriage by the village children.

  The Towers, with such a large crowd inside it, seemed even hotter and more oppressive than the Church had been.

  By the time Antonia had changed and come downstairs the Duke was feeling that if he had to wait any longer he would leave alone.

  Fortunately—and the Duke had no doubt she was thinking once again of the horses waiting for them—Antonia was a good deal quicker than most women would have been in the circumstances.

  But now they had escaped, the Duke thought with satisfaction, as he brushed the rice from his coat and thought that the pelting of the bride and bridegroom with rice as a symbol of fertility was a pagan custom which should have been done away with a long time ago.

  “Do you think we ought to stop and tell the coachman to throw away the horse-shoes and the boots which I can hear rattling away behind us?” Antonia asked.

  “I have had a better idea than that,” the Duke replied. “When we are out of the village, and just before we come to the cross-roads, I have ordered my Phaeton to be waiting for us. It may be unconventional, but I thought it would be a quicker way of reaching London.”

  “And much more pleasant than being cooped up in here for hours,” Antonia exclaimed, “it was clever of you to think of it!”

  The admiration in her voice mitigated a little of the Duke’s irritation that he had been feeling all the morning.

  They drove on in silence, and when the carriage came to a standstill Antonia jumped out eagerly and hurried up the road to where the Phaeton was waiting.

  She greeted the grooms in charge, addressing them by name, the Duke noticed, then went to pat the team of four perfectly-matched chestnuts.

  She talked to the horses as they tried to nuzzle their noses against her and the Duke was aware of an expression on her face that he had not seen before.

  “I am glad Rufus is one of the horses taking us to London,” she said to Ives. “He has always been my favourite.”

  “Yes, M’Lady,” Ives replied a little uncertainly.

  He was embarrassed that Antonia was talking to him in the Duke’s presence and showing a knowledge of the horses that he might find it hard to explain.

  “I think we should be on our way!” the Duke said abruptly. “The guests will soon be leaving your father’s house, and it will cause quite a lot of comment if we are seen changing vehicles.”

  “Yes, of course,” Antonia agreed obediently.

  The footmen helped her into the Phaeton and a groom sprang up behind them. The Duke set the horses in motion and the four out-riders who were to travel with them to London spread out on either side so as to be clear of the dust.

  “This is exciting!” Antonia said. “I was wondering how soon it would be possible for you to drive me in your Phaeton! I was afraid I would have to wait until we came back from our honeymoon.”

  The Duke glanced down at her and realised that the short satin coat she was wearing over a thin gown was more becoming than anything he had seen her in on previous occasions.

  Her bonnet also, trimmed with small ostrich feathers, was fashionable, and he decided that while she did not compare to advantage with her elder sister she had perhaps, although he was yet to find them, attractions of her own.

  He was relieved to find that she did not chatter all the time they were travelling.

  In fact she appeared to be concentrating on the horses, and as they journeyed on towards London the Duke found that the fresh air and the fact that it was not so hot made him feel less constrained and irritable than he had been before.

  After dinner at Doncaster House where they were to stay the first night of the honeymoon, the Duke in fact felt mellow and almost at peace with the world.

  He found that he had enjoyed explaining to Antonia during dinner exactly what his plans were as regards Goodwood Races which would take place while they were away.

  He was also surprised at her knowledge, not only about his own horses bought in the last five years and improving the stud he had inherited from his father out of all recognition, but also how much she knew about the other stables with which they came into opposition on the race-courses.

  “How can you have learnt all this?” he asked at one moment.

  She had corrected him over the breeding of one of Lord Derby’s mares and after a short argument he found that she was right.

  “I read the racing-papers,” Antonia replied with a smile. “Papa would be horrified if he knew that I did so, because in most of them there are also all sorts of scandalous police reports and slanderous innuendos about political and social personalities.”

  The Duke knew only too well to which papers she referred and he thought they were certainly not the type of reading suitable for a young girl.

  He was however too interested in what Antonia had to say to find fault.

  They moved from the Dining-Room into the Library although the Duke had suggested they might sit in the Salon upstairs.

&
nbsp; “I have learnt that this is your favourite room,” Antonia said, “so let us sit here.”

  “I think the real reason for your choice is that you want to look at my books,” the Duke remarked.

  “As soon as you have time,” Antonia replied, “I want you to show me all the wonderful treasures you have here, which I am told are equally as fine as those at Doncaster Park.”

  “I have the uncomfortable feeling that you already know more about them than I do,” the Duke said.

  Antonia did not answer.

  He watched her looking round the Library with a faintly amused smile on his lips, being well aware she was far more interested in her surroundings than in him.

  As if she realised what he was thinking, she turned her large grey-green eyes towards him and he had an intuition she was going to say something that was of great importance.

  “I have ... something to ask you,” she said.

  Now her tone was very different and the gay excitement with which she had been talking all the evening seemed to have vanished.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  He knew she was feeling for words, but at that moment the door opened and the butler announced:

  “The Marchioness of Northaw, Your Grace!”

  The Duke, after a momentary start, rose slowly to his feet.

  Antonia rose too as the Marchioness, radiantly beautiful, glittering with jewels, and looking like a fairy on a Christmas-tree came gliding towards them. The long tulle train of her gown billowed out behind her.

  “I am on my way to a Reception at Marlborough House,” she said. “But I had to come in for a second just to give you both my good wishes.”

  Her words included Antonia, but her blue eyes were fixed on the Duke’s and they held a message that only he could understand.

  She put her ungloved hand in his and he raised it to his lips.

  “It is very gracious of you,” he said, “and my wife and I appreciate your expression of goodwill, even at such a late hour!”

  It was impossible not to hear the rebuke in his voice, but the Marchioness was quite unperturbed.

  “Forgive me for troubling you, Antonia,” she said, “but I came out without a handkerchief, I wondered if you would kindly lend me one of yours?”