The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) (16 page)

“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.”

“You will
...
forgive
...
me?” Antonia pleaded.

“I think you have made it impossible for me not to do so, seeing how well you nursed me,” the Duke replied.

“But you might have
...
died,” Antonia said. “And it would have been my
...
fault. How could I have gone on
...
living knowing that I had
...
caused your death?”

She thought she was going to burst into tears, and having no wish to lose her self-control, she turned away to walk back to the window.

She stood there looking out into the darkness, tipping back her head a little so that the tears would not brim over and run down her cheeks.

“As we are being frank with each other,” she heard the Duke saying behind her, “and because once we agreed that there could be no pretence between us, I also have something to tell you, Antonia.”

There was something especially solemn in the way he spoke and she waited, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. She could guess what he was going to say to her now they were back in England.

“What I have to tell you,” the Duke said, “is that I am in love.”

It was what she had expected to hear him say, but it was like a mortal blow which struck at her very heart.

Just for a moment she felt numb, and then it was an agony so intense, so violent that it tore her apart. It was only with the greatest difficulty she did not scream and cry out.

In a voice which did not seem to be her own, she said: “I
...
understand and I will ... go to Doncaster Park as we
...
arranged.”

“Do you think you will be happy there?” the Duke asked. It was hard to fight back tears, but a pride she did not know she possessed made Antonia reply:

“I will be
...
all right.”

“Alone?”

“I shall
...
have the
...
horses.”

“I thought we agreed to share them.”

She did not understand and after a moment she said hesitatingly:

“You
...
mean you will want
...
some of them for the
...
Marchioness?”

“Turn round, Antonia!”

She wanted to obey him but she was afraid he would read in her face what she was feeling.

She did not move and she heard him come nearer.

“You are under some misapprehension,” he said quietly. “It is not the Marchioness with whom I am in love.”

“Not the Marchioness?”

Now Antonia was surprised into turning round and she found he was nearer than she had thought. After one quick glance at him she looked away.

“But I
...
thought
...
” she said hesitatingly.

“So did I for a short time,” the Duke said, “but I was mistaken.’

‘Then there is someone else?’ Antonia thought and wondered desperately who it could be.

She could not believe it was the Comtesse after the way her husband had behaved during the duel.

“The person I am in love with,” the Duke said very quietly and slowly as if he was choosing his words, “is someone who I think loves me as she might love a child. What I wish to find out, Antonia, is whether she loves me as a man.”

It was difficult for Antonia to breathe!

Something strange had happened to her throat, and something wild and wonderful that she dare not acknowledge was rising in her breast.

“Do
...
you
...
mean
...
?” she tried to say.

“I love someone,” the Duke said very softly, “who held me in her arms and talked to me in the voice of love and who kissed my cheek and my forehead.”

Antonia made a little inarticulate murmur, and then instinctively she moved towards him and hid her face against his shoulder.

His arms went round her, holding her very close.

“Can you love me as a man, my precious one?” he asked. “I am so afraid that I might lose you now I am well again.” He felt her quiver against him and then very gently he put his fingers under her chin and turned her face up to his.

“You kissed me, my darling,” he said. “It is only fair that I should now be allowed to kiss you.”

His lips were on hers and she felt a strange and wonderful thrill streak through her whole body. It was like no feeling she had ever known before, and yet it was a part of the love that she had already given him.

It was so perfect, so rapturous, so overwhelming, that she thought no-one could feel such an emotion and not die of sheer happiness.

He kissed her until the room disappeared and they were alone, as she had thought they had been in Paris, on a secret island where there was no-one except themselves.

Only now it was so marvellous, so divine, that she felt she must be dreaming and this could have no substance or reality.

It was only when he raised his head to look down into her eyes and saw the wonder in them did he say tenderly:

“Now tell me how you love me.”

“I
...
love you. Oh, Athol, I love
...
you with all of
...
me ... as I have loved you I know now
...
from the very first.”

“My brave, wonderful, uncomplaining little wife,” he said. “How could I know that there was any woman who could be so perfect and at the same time so courageous.”

“I was never
...
afraid because I was with
...
you,” Antonia murmured.

“As you always will be,” he answered.

His arms tightened round her as he said:

“There are so many things for us to do together, and I think for the moment we neither of us
h
ave any wish to be in
London, to be fashionable, or to clutter our house with friends.”

Antonia felt that he was thinking of the Marchioness and she whispered:

“You will not be
...
bored in the country?”

“I should never be bored anywhere with you,” he answered. “But we must not forget our horses! We will school them for the steeple-chasing and win the prizes together. I think that will keep us fully occupied for the moment.”

His lips sought hers before she could reply and now his kisses were demanding, insistent and very passionate.

They made her feel as if her whole being dissolved into his and yet there was a fire beneath the warm wonder of them, and she surrendered herself to him feeling that they were one and completely indivisible.

“I love you,” he said later, a little unsteadily. “I love everything about you, not only your exquisite body, and your eyes which are as fascinating as looking into a crystal ball.” He kissed them before he continued:

“But I love the music of your voice, the softness of your hands, your sweetness, gentleness and compassion.”

His voice deepened as he went on:

“I never realised before that those were the things I wanted from a woman but which I knew were always missing.”

“I have been so
...
jealous of the
...
Marchioness,” Antonia whispered.

“Not half as jealous as I have been of that damned journalist who was making love to you when I was too ill to do so myself!”

Antonia looked at him in surprise.

“You were
...
jealous?”

“Crazily so!” the Duke replied harshly. “And I promise you, my darling, if I find other men looking at you as he did I shall be fighting not one duel, but hundreds!”

“Oh, no! That I could never allow,” Antonia exclaimed. “I could never go through that anxiety and misery again, thinking that it was I who had nearly killed you and that if you knew the truth you would never
...
forgive me.”

“I have to forgive you.”

“Why?”

“Because I realise now I cannot live without you,” the Duke answered. “I want you, Antonia, because you are mine, because we belong to each other.”

The fierce passion in his voice made her hide her head against his shoulder.

“I thought,” she said after a moment, “that when ... we came back to
...
England you would leave
...
me to go to the
...
Marchioness, and then ... I was
...
going to ask
...
you
...”

She paused and the Duke said tenderly:

“What were you going to ask me?”

“If you
...
would give me ... a baby
...
because he would be
...
part of
...
you and I would
...
have something to
...
love,” she whispered.

The Duke held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. “I will give you a baby, Antonia, but only if you promise me one thing.”

“What is
...
that?” she asked a little apprehensively.

“That you will not love it more than you love me,” he answered. “I am prepared to share a small part of you with our children, but only so long as you love me best. That you hold me in your arms as you held me when I was ill, and make me sure that I never need be afraid of losing you or of being hurt.”

Antonia’s eyes seemed to hold all the stars in the sky as she looked up at him.

He knew that while she had never been really beautiful before, love had made her lovelier than any woman he had ever known.