Nicole Jordan (27 page)

Antonia was surprisingly glad to see her companion, not only because Mildred’s face was a dear one, but because her familiar, flighty demeanor was so agreeably
normal
after the unsettling events of this past week, when murder and betrayal had turned her life upside down.

Since Antonia chose not to share her dark suspicions about her betrothed’s perfidy, Miss Tottle did not understand the urgency of leaving London during the height of the Season, although she accepted Antonia’s claim of visiting an ill friend. Fortunately, the countess’s sister-in-law, Clara, Lady Kenard, who was very swollen with child, had willingly agreed to participate in the ruse. By the time Miss Tottle met her, Lady Kenard had “recovered” from death’s door and was able to receive callers.

The three ladies spent a good deal of time with Clara and also paid daily calls on the countess’s other genteel neighbors. Admittedly, Isabella’s grandiose plans did help distract Antonia from her restlessness, but they could not make her forget the grim reason she was even in Cornwall, nor keep her from remembering the unexpected passion she had experienced at Deverill’s hands during the voyage.

Of Deverill, she saw nothing until the fourth evening, when Isabella held a dinner at the castle in her honor. Absurdly, Antonia found herself scanning the doorway each time a new guest entered the drawing room. When Deverill finally strolled in, accompanied by Sir Crispin Kenard, Antonia’s heartbeat took up a rapid rhythm. Deverill looked incredibly handsome with his tall, powerful figure molded by formal evening attire—blue coat, pristine white cravat, silver embroidered waistcoat, white satin breeches and stockings, and silver-buckled shoes.

Yet when his eyes met hers across the crowded drawing room and he gave her a small bow of acknowledgment, her heart sank. His gaze was cool, dispassionate, with none of the burning fervor he’d shown when he’d sought to overcome her resistance to his marriage offer. Antonia knew she should be grateful that Deverill apparently meant to respect her wishes and accept her refusal, yet perversely, all she could feel was disappointment that he was no longer pursuing her.

She was not even afforded the chance to greet him then, for Lady Isabella spied Deverill and immediately monopolized his attention, taking his arm and steering him around the drawing room to introduce him. His reputation preceded him, Antonia was aware, since Sir Crispin had been singing his praises for the past several days. And she herself was asked a multitude of questions about Deverill’s exploits, since they were presumed to be longtime friends.

It was nearly half an hour later before Isabella brought him over to Antonia, and she had a scant moment to speak to him privately as their hostess briefly turned her attention elsewhere.

“Have you missed me, vixen?” Deverill murmured, smiling blandly down at Antonia.

She had missed him intensely, although she would never admit it to him. “Have you heard any news from London yet?” she asked instead.

“No, it is too early yet.”

“You must promise to inform me of everything you learn the minute you hear.”

His mouth curved in amusement at her impatience. “I will.” He glanced at her gloved hands. “Have your injuries healed?”

“Thankfully, yes. You have been keeping busy, I hear,” Antonia remarked, changing the subject. “Lady Kenard says you are helping Sir Crispin apprehend the pirate who is preying on the local Freetraders.”

Deverill nodded. “The Freetraders are in a difficult position, for they can hardly report stolen contraband to the authorities. As magistrate of the district, Sir Crispin must pretend ignorance of their illegal smuggling activities, yet he can’t simply stand by while they are being slaughtered. There is little I can do until Captain Lloyd returns with my ship, but I have agreed to patrol the coasts at night as soon as I’m able.”

Antonia was certain they would be grateful for Deverill’s aid. Clara Kenard had confessed that there was an aura of fear among the local fishermen, and even the gentry were uneasy, since such terrible crimes were rare in this bucolic district.

Giving a reflexive shiver, Antonia attempted to lighten the mood. “Meanwhile, you are required to play the gentleman and dance attendance on Lady Isabella and myself,” she remarked, remembering Deverill’s disdain for society and all its pretensions.

“Are you enjoying yourself any better?”

“Truthfully, no.” She wasn’t interested in balls and assemblies. What she truly wanted was to return to London, but since she was confined here in Cornwall, she was determined to make the most of it. “I would rather explore the countryside. A riding habit was my first priority in a wardrobe, but Isabella overrode my wishes in favor of evening attire. And regrettably, Miss Tottle failed to include my habit when she packed a trunk for me.”

“You could always wear breeches and scandalize the good Cornish folk,” Deverill suggested with a taunting sparkle in his eye.

Antonia smiled. “As Isabella’s guest, I am obliged to remain more circumspect.”

“True. This is not Cyrene, where you could perhaps get away with donning male attire.”

“I am sure I could make do with an old gown if I borrowed a jacket, but Isabella doesn’t want me riding about the countryside with only a groom for protection.”

Lady Isabella returned just then and caught the last of their conversation. “Indeed, Deverill, you must make the time to escort Antonia riding. If a vicious pirate is running loose, she will need more protection than a mere groom can provide. And it is the least you should do, since
you
are the one who brought her here against her will.”

A smile flickered across Deverill’s mouth, for he recognized Bella’s transparent effort to throw them together. He didn’t want to squire Antonia around, for she would present too much temptation, yet he saw the eager hopefulness in her expression and couldn’t refuse.

“Very well,” he said. “Will tomorrow morning do?”

“Tomorrow morning would be splendid.”

The beaming smile Antonia sent him made Deverill’s chest suddenly feel tight. He had missed her smile, missed being able to tease her and provoke her. And more importantly, to touch her.

These past few days without her had been inconceivably frustrating. He couldn’t stop thinking of her, remembering the taste of her skin, the scent of her, the texture of her nipples. He couldn’t stop imagining taking her again, picturing how she would arch and moan beneath his stroking fingers, his mouth, his body—

To his gratification, dinner was announced just then, for the interruption helped him to crush his arousing thoughts. Deverill was partnered with a dowager duchess at one end of the long, formal dining table, quite some distance from Antonia. Yet he found his gaze straying frequently to her during the excellent five-course repast, and afterward, when dancing and cards were offered.

As he expected, Antonia was wildly successful at enchanting the company. Her charm and wit and vibrant beauty were just as potent here in the country as in the glittering ballrooms of London.

Although pleased by her success, Deverill felt his mood darkening unexpectedly, for her conquests reminded him of her determination to wed into the nobility. Class differences and social status had much less meaning for him, but she had been raised to strive for a higher station and was still intent on achieving her father’s greatest desire.

It shouldn’t have bothered him, therefore, to see her attention claimed by two unattached noblemen—both prospective matrimonial candidates, both of whom fell all over themselves to please her—but Deverill’s jealousy flared to outraged proportions.

Clamping down on his more savage instincts, he chose to join the card tables rather than the dancing, for he didn’t trust himself to hold Antonia in his arms and refrain from doing something entirely unsuitable, such as ravishing her on the spot.

He was, however, looking forward to the morning when he could have her alone—even if it would require a valiant struggle to keep his hands off her.

Antonia rose early, filled with anticipation. She had dressed and breakfasted and was waiting in the stables when Deverill called for her.

He warily eyed her bow and quiver of arrows, which Miss Tottle, blessedly, had brought with her, as Antonia strapped them to her mount’s sidesaddle.

“If you intend to ride armed,” Deverill drawled, “you clearly don’t need my protection.”

She flashed a smile. “I thought I might practice a little if I find any appropriate targets. But I promise not to shoot you unless severely provoked.”

“Then I will strive to be on my best behavior. Where do you wish to go this morning?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. I suspect this is my one chance for freedom, and I mean to make good use of it. But I would most like to see the seashore, since I have little chance of that in London.”

“The shore it is, then.”

Although it would have been more circumspect to have a groom accompany them, Antonia chose not to, for she wanted to speak to Deverill alone, to discuss an important matter dear to her heart. Moreover, she wanted nothing to spoil her adventure, which would undoubtedly have been the result with an audience observing her unladylike behavior. Deverill didn’t count, since he had already seen her at her worst, and since he was always the first to abet and encourage her wanton behavior.

She could feel her excitement building as he tossed her up in her sidesaddle and they set off.

The morning proved a perfect antidote to her restlessness, for the landscape was even more magical than she had hoped. They rode along the coast first. The granite cliffs bloomed with color—bluebells and thrift and sea campion—and overlooked sandy coves and shingle beaches washed by clear blue-green water.

Cornwall was not the paradise that Cyrene was, Antonia acknowledged, but the wild beauty of the coast resembled the island’s a bit. The air was warm and sweet with a salt-tinged sea breeze, and alive with the cries of puffins and cormorants and herring gulls, as well as the rhythmic hiss and sigh of the waves below.

It was the vast ocean, however, that held Antonia in awe. Her bedchamber at Wilde Castle faced the sea, and she never tired of watching the magnificent view from her windows.

When they dismounted and negotiated a steep path down to the shore, she immediately took off her half boots and stockings, then lifted her skirts to wade into the waves.

She gave a gasp at the shock to her bare feet and calves. “The water is colder than I expected! It was much warmer on Cyrene.”

Deverill was watching her with amusement. “Yes. The Atlantic is cooler than the Mediterranean. If you want to play in the waves, we will need to find you a sun-warmed cove and wait until afternoon.”

“The water looks so inviting . . .” Antonia said wistfully. She cast a speculative glance at Deverill. “I wonder, would you consider teaching me how to swim?”

When he hesitated a long moment, she thought he intended to refuse her request. But he finally nodded, albeit with reluctance. “I suppose I could.”

Not wanting to press her luck, she merely smiled and said, “Thank you.” Backing up, she raised a hand to shield her eyes. The glitter of the brilliant sea stretching endlessly away beneath the deep blue sky enthralled her. It gave her a sense of profound elation, of pure, unadulterated freedom.

“I can understand why you love the sea so much,” she murmured.

When Deverill remained silent, she pointed to a rock promontory that extended a short distance into the sea. “May we go out there?”

“Yes, but be careful. I don’t want to carry you back to Bella half-drowned.”

In actuality, it proved easier for her to climb over the granite boulders barefoot than for Deverill in his boots. When they reached the point, Antonia sat down on the warm rock and dangled her feet in the surging water below. She was glad when he settled
beside her, for she hoped to use this opportunity to convince him to see her point of view.

“Deverill . . . I have been thinking,” she began carefully.

“A dangerous exercise.”

Antonia made a face. “I
do
have a brain in my head, you know. It is merely that as a female, I am not permitted to use it without inviting scandal.”

Deverill’s expression sobered. “I do know, sweetheart.”

“But you cannot possibly understand the frustration of being a woman in a man’s world of business. If I were a son, I could have assumed control of my father’s shipping empire, instead of leaving it for others to run. And even in that respect, I failed.”

“How so?”

“Obviously my judgment was at fault for allowing Heward so much leeway. I trusted him far too much—both Phineas and I did. Apparently we made the same mistake with Director Trant. Trant will certainly have to be fired, if he is transporting slaves as you suspect.”

“That would be my advice,” Deverill agreed.

“Which leads me to my point. You knew exactly where the dangers lay—and what to do about them.”

“So?”

“So, I want to keep my father’s legacy alive, Deverill. In future, I intend to be somewhat more involved, but I have none of the experience required to oversee such a vast enterprise. You, however, do.”

“I?” he repeated warily.

“Deverill . . . I would like you to assume the reins of Maitland Shipping as director. You have only to name your price.”

His hesitation told her his answer before he even spoke. “I am honored you hold me in such high regard, princess, but I’m afraid I must decline.”

Antonia sighed. Deverill was telling her he didn’t wish to be tied down, just as she’d expected. “Is it because of your work for the Foreign Office?”

He delayed another moment. “In large part. I’m too much of an adventurer to settle down in a career that requires me to remain in a London office. But I promise to find a new director for you, if your current one is corrupt.”

Antonia tried to quell her disappointment. It shamed her that she had safeguarded her father’s life work so poorly, and she considered Deverill the perfect choice to make up for her lapse. Although she might not want him for her husband, she trusted his business acumen implicitly. If he assumed control, she could leave the company in his able hands with confidence that it would flourish.