to all and sundry that their hearts were broken and that life would never be the same once the Duke had loved but left them.
It was as fascinating as some of the romantic novels that had been lent to her, not by Mr. Lowry, who would not have allowed anything of that sort in the Library, but by the Governesses who passed the long dreary hours when they were alone in the School-room reading of the love they were never likely to experience in their own lives.
Antonia thought the books a lot of nonsense, until she found that some of the episodes in them were much more true to the Duke’s life than ever she had imagined they could be.
“I wonder what it is that makes women go wild where he is concerned?” she asked herself.
She looked at the pictures of him hanging on the walls of Doncaster Park.
Although they showed an exceedingly handsome and fine-looking man she felt there was something missing, something she could not explain to herself but which she was sure was not portrayed by the artists.
She had, it was true, seen the Duke when he was riding on The Chase which he always did when he was staying at Doncaster Park.
But on Ives’s instructions she kept well out of sight, merely peering at him over the boundary fence and thinking how magnificently he rode, so that he did in fact seem to be part of his horse.
He was usually at a gallop when he passed her so that it was impossible to see his face closely or the expression in his eyes.
Antonia had always wished to meet him and now it seemed she was likely to do so, not to-morrow, for she was quite certain that her mother and father would not allow her to be present when he called to see Felicity, but later when the engagement was announced.
At the thought of an engagement Antonia’s arms tightened around Felicity.
She knew how this was going to hurt her sister and she could not help thinking from what she knew of the Duke that Felicity would be unable to cope with him.
She was a sweet, gentle girl, but as Antonia knew only too well, extremely stupid in many ways and very vulnerable if she was not cosseted, fussed over and loved.
Would the Duke do that? And was it likely that he would want to?
“What shall I do, Antonia? What shall I do?” Felicity sobbed despairingly.
And Antonia found herself thinking of the Marchioness of Northaw.
CHAPTER TWO
T he Duke was finishing his breakfast, which had been a substantial one, when the Butler came to his side to say respectfully:
“Excuse me, Your Grace, but Lady Antonia Wyndham has called to see you.”
The Duke was surprised into thinking that he must have been mistaken.
“Lady Antonia Wyndham?” he repeated.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“At this hour?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The Duke looked even more astonished.
“Has she come alone?”
“No, Your Grace. She has a maid with her who is waiting in the Hall. I have shown Her Ladyship into the Library.”
The Duke put down his knife and fork and lifted a cup of coffee to his lips.
He always ate a large meal at breakfast-time, believing it to be important to his health. He preferred coffee to any other beverage and was never known to touch alcohol, however much he had indulged the night before.
He had made it a rule, and he organised his life on rules that he made for himself, that he would always rise early.
When he was in London he rode in the Row before it became fashionably crowded with the Ladies of Quality who wished to gossip with their friends and the Pretty Horse Breakers who were intent on showing off their mounts.
To call on him at half past seven in the morning was something which had not yet been attempted by any lady, however persistent she might be in pursuing him.
As he finished his coffee and took a last glance at The Times which he had propped up in front of him on a silver stand, the Duke was wondering what this early visit could mean.
How was it possible that the Earl of Lemsford’s daughter should not know that it was