only this morning from ...” He said something more that she did not hear. When she realised that he had fallen silent, she looked up, confused.
“I’m ... I am sorry to see you leave so soon.”
He put his hand under her chin and turned her face up to his. “Are you truly sorry, my heart, or was that only the usual courtesy?”
She hesitated, aware of an impulse to reach out to touch his face in return, to smooth away those harsh lines around his mouth. But then her sense of humour belatedly rescued her from what she felt might have been an irretrievable blunder.
“Indeed, I am excessively sorry!” she assured him, smiling. “Isabel and Mr Gary had organized a rubber of whist for this evening, you will recall, and you were needed to make a fourth. Of course, if Mr Gary goes with you, as I suppose he must, we are quite lost—reduced to our usual two-handed game, in fact. It is too bad of you!”
Accommodating himself to her mood, he accused her of incurable frivolity. “If it is only whist and piquet you want, my enchanting butterfly, you have only—as I have repeatedly told you—to marry me and I promise you an eternal round of dissipation—with my aunts to make us four, playing for penny points.”
“It was my impression, sir, that I had made quite clear my intention not to so engage myself.”
“Not even for love, Antonia?”
His tone was still light, but his questioning eyes were in earnest, and she fought not to look into them.
“Especially not for love!”
There was a brief, awkward silence before he lifted his brows and levelled a mocking gaze at her. “Take care, madam —I may not ask you again.” She gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, but he went on mercilessly, “I may find some pliable creature more willing to tolerate my advances.”
“I wish you well of her.”
“Cruel Lady Disdain! But I have another argument.”
“I thought you might.”
“Need I remind you of your promise to call on me for whatever aid I may render you in London?”
“I have not forgotten. Isabel, too, is grateful—
“Spare me Isabel’s gratitude! I do what I can because I want to do it—for you.”
She was disconcerted by the intensity with which he spoke, as if he were afraid of losing something important by having to leave her, even for so short a time.
“Indeed, my lord, you are very kind. I shall not forget, and I—we both—look forward to meeting you again.”
He said no more, but took her hands again, and for a moment looked off into the distance beyond her right shoulder while she waited, feeling in his hands the effort he was making at self-control. At last, he relaxed perceptibly and smiled, saying, “I don’t know why I prejudice my own cause with every word I utter. Remember only that I wish above all things that we may see each other again very soon.”
With that, he raised her palm to his lips and kissed it softly. She knew she ought not to let him do that, but could not bring herself to pull her hand away. She felt it grow warmer under the pressure of his kiss, and all at once a shock of unidentifiable feeling communicated itself from him, through her hand, coursing all through her. She pulled away abruptly then, a blush of breathless confusion rising to her cheeks. Kedrington seemed not to notice, although he did not meet her eyes. Then, saying all that was customary and remembering to express his regrets to Isabel, he took his leave.
When he was gone, Antonia stood alone in the hall, staring at the closed door until she became aware again of normal sensations. It was cold in the hall; she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders but could not stop shivering. She looked around her at the home that had always held the greater part of her happiness within its walls and wondered why it suddenly seemed so empty.
Chapter 6
It was Philip Kenyon, suddenly recalled to his godfatherly duties, who took it cheerfully upon himself to find a suitable house in London
“I’m ... I am sorry to see you leave so soon.”
He put his hand under her chin and turned her face up to his. “Are you truly sorry, my heart, or was that only the usual courtesy?”
She hesitated, aware of an impulse to reach out to touch his face in return, to smooth away those harsh lines around his mouth. But then her sense of humour belatedly rescued her from what she felt might have been an irretrievable blunder.
“Indeed, I am excessively sorry!” she assured him, smiling. “Isabel and Mr Gary had organized a rubber of whist for this evening, you will recall, and you were needed to make a fourth. Of course, if Mr Gary goes with you, as I suppose he must, we are quite lost—reduced to our usual two-handed game, in fact. It is too bad of you!”
Accommodating himself to her mood, he accused her of incurable frivolity. “If it is only whist and piquet you want, my enchanting butterfly, you have only—as I have repeatedly told you—to marry me and I promise you an eternal round of dissipation—with my aunts to make us four, playing for penny points.”
“It was my impression, sir, that I had made quite clear my intention not to so engage myself.”
“Not even for love, Antonia?”
His tone was still light, but his questioning eyes were in earnest, and she fought not to look into them.
“Especially not for love!”
There was a brief, awkward silence before he lifted his brows and levelled a mocking gaze at her. “Take care, madam —I may not ask you again.” She gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, but he went on mercilessly, “I may find some pliable creature more willing to tolerate my advances.”
“I wish you well of her.”
“Cruel Lady Disdain! But I have another argument.”
“I thought you might.”
“Need I remind you of your promise to call on me for whatever aid I may render you in London?”
“I have not forgotten. Isabel, too, is grateful—
“Spare me Isabel’s gratitude! I do what I can because I want to do it—for you.”
She was disconcerted by the intensity with which he spoke, as if he were afraid of losing something important by having to leave her, even for so short a time.
“Indeed, my lord, you are very kind. I shall not forget, and I—we both—look forward to meeting you again.”
He said no more, but took her hands again, and for a moment looked off into the distance beyond her right shoulder while she waited, feeling in his hands the effort he was making at self-control. At last, he relaxed perceptibly and smiled, saying, “I don’t know why I prejudice my own cause with every word I utter. Remember only that I wish above all things that we may see each other again very soon.”
With that, he raised her palm to his lips and kissed it softly. She knew she ought not to let him do that, but could not bring herself to pull her hand away. She felt it grow warmer under the pressure of his kiss, and all at once a shock of unidentifiable feeling communicated itself from him, through her hand, coursing all through her. She pulled away abruptly then, a blush of breathless confusion rising to her cheeks. Kedrington seemed not to notice, although he did not meet her eyes. Then, saying all that was customary and remembering to express his regrets to Isabel, he took his leave.
When he was gone, Antonia stood alone in the hall, staring at the closed door until she became aware again of normal sensations. It was cold in the hall; she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders but could not stop shivering. She looked around her at the home that had always held the greater part of her happiness within its walls and wondered why it suddenly seemed so empty.
Chapter 6
It was Philip Kenyon, suddenly recalled to his godfatherly duties, who took it cheerfully upon himself to find a suitable house in London
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