Francesca Shaw - The Unconventional Miss Dane Read online

  Heedless of her discarded bonnet and cloak, Antonia ran across the clearing, pushed through a straggle of branches and found herself in the company of two urchins, neither of them a day over ten years of age.

  One, a wiry redhead, was disentangling himself from the bramble bush into which he had tripped. His companion, an even grubbier child, was holding by the feet four limp-necked, and very dead, cock pheasants.

  There was a long moment while the children stared at her, round, eyed with terror, then, as she took a step towards them, they dropped the birds and took to their heels.

  Well! The local poachers certainly started young hereabouts, Antonia thought, stooping to pick up the still-warm pheasants. No doubt they, were encouraged by a lack of keepering, for in the depths of debt Sir Humphrey had discharged all his servants but for a slatternly housekeeper. Still, the birds were hers, snared on her own land, and they would at least serve as supper tonight!

  "Caught red-handed!" a triumphant, rough voice said behind her.

  Antonia spun round to find two burly individuals in decent homes puns shotguns under their arms and a couple of terriers at their heels, ~onfronting her. "Did you ever see the like, Nat? A female poacher, as live and breathe. You give us those birds, my pretty,. and come along of us quiet-like. "

  Antonia opened her mouth to protest that she had just picked up the birds; then the thought of those two skinny, frightened children, and what would happen to them if these men caught them, kept her silent.

  The two keepers advanced towards her, one taking the birds from her limp grasp, the other seizing her roughly by the arm, tearing the old gown even more. Shocked by the contact, Antonia gasped and pulled away.

  "Let me go!" she demanded breathlessly.

  "Let you go? Oh dear, no! After we've caught you on. his lordship's and, with his lordship's pheasants?" He grinned, exposing stained teeth. "It's your lucky day, my pretty, you won't have to cool your heels in the village lock-up. Oh, no, his lordship's at home, and him being a Justice of the Peace, he likes to see a poacher whenever we catch one. And he'll like to see this one, won't he, Nat?"

  Both men eyed Antonia slyly. She was suddenly very aware that she-was without bonnet or pelisse, that her old linen gown clung around her limbs and she was quite unchaperoned.

  Who could they mean by 'his lordship'? This was Rye End Hall and---her land---but the humiliation of arguing about her identity with these two was more than she could countenance. No, better to go along with it and get out of this wood as quickly as possible. Whoever this magistrate was, at least he would he a gentleman and she could make her explanations to him in decent privacy.

  The keeper's fingers were moving suggestively on her bare skin through the tear in her gown. Antonia turned such a look of glacial fury on him that he let go of her elbow, then, recalling himself, seized her painfully by the wrist instead.

  The walk back through the woods was mercifully short, but by the time they reached the stable block of a big house she did not recognise Antonia was flushed and breathless, her hair tumbling about her face and her skirts torn and bedraggled.

  Her captors marched her through the servants' quarters, up the backstairs, through a green baize door and into a hallway that seemed vaguely familiar to Antonia. The butler, alerted by the commotion, emerged from the dining room to hear the gamekeeper's explanations. He looked her up and down with utter disdain, before depa~ing to inform his master of the arrival of a felon for his attention.

  Antonia stood, inwardly shuddering with mortification, forcing herself not to struggle and thus appear even more undignified and unladylike than she already must. APter all, when in the presence of this gentleman, she could explain the circumstances of this unfortunate incident. And what was more, she froned, she expected an apology for the behaviour of his keepers for their overzealousness in straying onto her land and their insulting familiarity with her person!

  When the butler finally reappeared to usher them in, she straightened her back, raised her chin and stalked with as much hauteur as she could manage in the circumstances, into the study.

  The magistrate into whose presence she had been hauled was sitting behind a wide mahogany desk, his fingers drumming impatiently on the leather surface beside a pile of papers which had been pushed to one side. Antonia stared in horrified recognition at the man she had seen only hours before. Lord Arlington, for it was indeed he, returned her stare without the slightest sign he had ever set eyes on her before.

  Raising one tawny brow, he remarked, "Well done, Sparrow: you have enlivened what was proving to be a thoroughly dull day. I was hoping for a diversion from this tedious correspondence--' his long fingers flicked the pile of papers dismissively '--but a female poacher is more than I could have looked for. Thank you, Sparrow, you and Carling may go."

  "What, and just leave her, my lord?" The senior gamekeeper was surprised.

  "Well, I hardly feel she is Fikely to prove more ~ I can handle; or do you think she has a dangerous weapon concealed somewhere?? The dark brown eyes were warm as he surveyed the clinging, bedraggled gown that did nothing to hide the form beneath. Antonia flushed angrily, but gritted her teeth, determined not to bandy words with him in front of the keepers.

  With barely concealed reluctance the two men shuffled out, closing the door behind them. Antonia put up a hand to push the hair off her face and realised she had succeeded in spreading dirt, and what felt horribly like pheasant's blood, all over her forehead.

  Marcus Arlington got up and came round the desk to look at her more closely: "You are certainly a novelty, my dear, and a considerable improvement on the usual crew who plunder my birds. At least, if you were cleaned up, you might be..." He continued to stroll round her.

  Antonia felt the blood burning up her throat and cheeks at the insolence of the scrutiny.

  "Now, what shall we do with you, I wonder?" He came back round to face her. "I suppose you realise I could sentence you to hard labour for this--your fingers would not be so ready for setting snares after that."

  He lifted Antonia's right hand, turning it over caress-ingly between strong fingers whilst holding her furious gaze with his eyes. Even in the midst of her anger, she saw the sudden surprise as his touch registered the soft skin where he had expected work-hardened roughness.

  Seizing her advantage, Antonia snatched her hand away and, in a swirl of muddy skirts, put a heavy chair between herself and Lord Arlington.

  "You are no village wench, not ~with hands like that! So ... who the devil are you? And what are you doing with my birds?" he demanded, voice suddenly hard.

  Antonia found her tongue at last, and spoke with all the hauteur at her command. "A lady, sir, and one who does not relish being manhandled by either you or your melL'

  "Damn it, woman, do you expect me to believe that? Look at yourself!"

  His scornful stare swept from the top of her disordered hair to her boots emerging from beneath her muddy hem.

  "Kindly mind your language, my lord," Antonia said frostily, sinking on to the chair with as much grace as if she were at Almack's, and not in danger of having her knees give way beneath her.

  Marcus Arlington sketched her an ironic bow before leaning indolently against the edge of the desk. "My humble apologies, madam. I should have realised, from the moment I set eyes upon you, that I was dealing with a member of the Quality."

  Flushing, Antonia looked down at herself. Mud-caked walking boots were all too obvious below a torn and besmirched hemline. Her old and faded gown was ripped, there were bloodstains where the birds had touched the skins and her elbow protruded through the hopelessly threadbare sleeve. Without her bonnet, her dark brown curls, always hard to manage, now cascaded about her shoulders and she could feel her face was filthy.

  She glared at him, resenting his easy elegance, even in the riding apparel he still wore. Marcus Arlington's broad shoulders and long, muscular legs were set off to perfection by the country clothes. ,.

  Antonia recolle
cted herself, annoyed at the spark of attraction she had felt for an instant.

  "If I present a disordered appearance,~ it is no wonder," she retorted sharply. "Having been set upon, dragged through the mire and brambles--is it any wonder?. And," she pursued, before he had a chance to reply, 'all I was doing was walking in the woods. "

  "Trespassing on my land, in possession of my game." His' voice was flat, his face hard~ 'i expect my keepers to earn their wages. Madam," he added sarcastically.

  "Your land? I ~hardly think so, my lord. Those woods are Rye End Hall and."

  "Not for these past five years." He regarded her with sudden interest.

  "What do you know of Rye End. Hall?"

  "I own it," Antonia informed him coldly. With an effort she tried to hide her dismay at the discovery that her father had sold off land. How much more had gone without her knowing? It had never occurred to her to scrutinise the estate maps when the solicitor had handed them back to her: she knew the extent of Rye End Hall lands too well. If Sir Humphrey had sold off woods so close to the house, what else might have gone?

  "You appear surprised, madam?" It was a question, but his voice held more sympathy than previously. "Surely you have not been sold short in your purchase of Rye End Hall?"

  "I have not purchased it, my lord; it came to me on the death of my father."

  "Your father?" Now it was Marcus Allington's turn to be taken aback.

  "You cannot be Sir Humphrey Dane's daughter!"

  "And why not?" Antonia's chin came up defiantly. Whatever her father and her brother had become, the Danes were an old and proud family, and all her instincts and her great aunt's training were evident in her bearing now.

  Despite her ludicrous appearance, Marcus could not now doubt she was telling the truth. The more he looked at her, the more he saw a family resemblance. He remembered her grandfather, white-haired and patrician, visit' rag his own grandparents; how as a young boy he had been overawed by the bearing he now saw traces of in this woman.

  "You have to admit, Miss Dane, that your appearance, and the circumstances in which we meet, are much against you." He straightened, crossing to the bell pull beside the fireplace. "Let me order you some refreshment, and then you-must tell me how I may help you."

  Antonia realised just how hungry she was: they had set forth from the Golden Fleece in Holbom before dawn and a hastily snatched meal of ha con and bread at Abbots Langley was hours in the past.

  The footman was hard put to disguise his amazement at being sent for sherry and biscuits for the female who had just been dragged through the servants' quarters as a common criminal.

  She fell to hungrily when the refreshment arrived, then recollected herself and nibbled delicately at the almond wafer. "You are very kind, my lord, but ! am in no need of assistance."

  Marcus Arlington possessed the irritating ability to raise one eyebrow.

  He said nothing, but the quirked brow and the ironic twist to his lips, spoke volumes.

  Antonia flushed, goaded into an explanation she did not want to make.

  "I can see you wonder at my gown, sir, but if one travels on the public stage, naturally one does not don one's best attire for the journey."

  His eyes were resting thoughtfully on the torn sleeve and Antonia hurried on, "Your men tore my garment when they apprehended me!"

  "No..." Amused recollection lit the brown eyes. "It was already toro after the accident to the stagecoach."

  Antonia, scarcely acknowledging to herself that she had been piqued by his lack of recognition, blurted out, "When I was dragged into your presence, you made no sign you had seen me before.~

  "You must forgive me," he said smoothly, sipping his sherry. "I remembered the tear, but not, I regret, you. Although, now I come to think of it, you were, were you not, wearing a bonnet and pelisse?"

  "I had laid them aside in the woods, just before your men came upon me."

  "All the better to catch my pheasants, no doubt," he said drily.

  "I have already told you, I did not know they were yours. And of course I did not: catch them--I ... I found them upon the footpath."

  She had no intention of betraying the two urchins.

  "Tsk, tsk, Miss Dane," Lord Arlington admonished. "You really are a very poor liar." His voice hardened.

  "Let us stop playing games. I believe neither that you caught those birds nor that you found them. Describe the culprit you had them of, madam, for you do yourself no favours in my eyes in protecting him."

  "Liar? How dare you, sir! Being in or out of your favour counts as nothing to me. If I prevaricated, it was simply because I have no intention of delivering up to your tender mercies one of your unfortunate tenants, forced into poaching merely to stay alive? She was upright and quivering with fury in the chair.

  "It is not my tenants who are starving~.iMiss Dane." Marcus strode over to where she sat. When he put one hand on each arm of her chair, she ~ to will herself not to shrink back from his cold regard. "When you reach your inheritance,: madam, look around you and see the state in which your departed father left his people, before you come preaching to me of mine."

  Antonia stared back into his hard face; appalled at what he had told her. She did not know how to respond: he was too close, too overpoweringly male. With a swift movement he bent his tawny head and kissed her full on the lips with a hard, possessive, sensuality.

  Momentarily she was too stunned to resist, then she broke away from the heat of his mouth, bringing up her right hand to, slap his cheek.

  Marcus straightened, ruefully rubbing his face. "I suppose I deserved that, but I must confess, Miss Dane, that your ... eccentricity quite robbed me of my good sense."

  Antonia sprang from the chair in a swirl of skirts. "I think not, sir!

  I believe that your overweening arrogance leads you to believe you can take whatever you want! Do not trouble to ring for the butler, my lord--I can see myself out!"

  Her hand was on the doorknob when he said sot "Miss Dane."

  Hating herself for responding, Antonia turned to at him. "Well?"

  ~Feed your tenants, Miss Dane, then at least they not have to steal my property to survive. "

  Chapter Two

  Antonia swept past a startled foommn, who leapt to open the front door for her, down the shallow flight of stone steps and halfway down the graveled drive before her anger calmed enough for her. to slow to a stop. As consumed by anger as she was, there was no point in storming off into the Hertfordshire countryside without getting her bearings first.

  Now she could see the front of the house, she realised that she could recall it from rare visits as a small child with her grandfather. But her memories were of a far less elegant effect: it was obvious that Marcus Arlington had applied both an admirable taste and considerable amounts of money to Brightshill,

  '~he pleasure grounds were beautifully kept, with close-scythed. lawns sweeping to stands of specimen trees. Through the trees she could see the glimmer of water where she could have sworn none had been before and the drive was bordered by classical statuary, each pedestal nestling in a group of flowering shrubs.

  "Insufferable man!" Antonia fumed aloud. She felt even more down at heel and grimy in this setting, the only discordant note in a perfect landscape. "Well, I am glad of it!" she exclaimed. "Serve him right if I lower the tone!" She realised she was scuffing the perfectly raked gravel with her boot, to the betterment of neither. She was in danger of forgetting who she was, although a~er being mauled like a loose woman by that . that. man, it was little wonder.

  She shot a fulminating glance in the direction of the study window and was startled to see Marcus Allingt0n standing at the casement, regarding her. Antonia straightened her shoulders, gathered up her frightful skirts. in one hand and swept an elaborate curtsy to the semi-clad deity on the nearest pedestal. Looking closer, she saw he bore a quite remarkable resemblance ~to the Prince Regent--although wit bout the corsets--a thought that brought back her natural ~sense of
the ridiculous.

  Giggling faintly, and without a second backward glance, Antonia walked down the drive as though: she owned it, Once through the gates she began to hurry, half-running, conscious that it must be a good two hours since she had parted from her companion and that Donna would be becoming anxious,

  The wind through the bare hedges was turning sharp as the a~ drew in and she was reminded that, however pleasant the day had been, it was still o#ly March and she was without her pelisse and bona et

  Suddenly the neatly cut and laid hedges and sharply defined ditches gave way to a raggle-taggle of overgrown bushes and choked muddy puddles. Through one of many gaps in the boundary, Antonia could see an ill-drained field with clumps of dead thistles here and there. There was no doubt she was now on Rye End Hall and. The fruits of her father's and brother's neglect were only too evident: Antonia remembered uneasily Lord Arlington's comment about her tenants.

  She turned into the entrance of the Hall, between rusted gates hanging crazily from the tall posts. The lodge houses were empty; their neat little gardens, which she remembered from her childhood, were now lost under brambles and nettles.