A Comfortable Wife

clock. 'Not tonight. Tell Hamwell to have the greys ready at first light-wake me before then.'

If he took the Brighton road, he could reach the Manor by midday; if luck was with him, he might be free of the vacillating widow in time to make the trip back that evening.

'Very good, m'lord.' Caning, ponderously round and suited all in black, unhurriedly headed for the door. There, he turned, his hand on the knob. “Am I to take it, my lord, that her ladyship and her visitors will still be arriving tomorrow?'

'They will.' Philip's tones were clipped. 'Make sure all is ready.'

Carring's brows rose fractionally as he turned away. 'Naturally, m'lord.'

Contrary to his plans, it was early afternoon two days hence before Philip returned to Grosvenor Square.

Carring helped him out of his greatcoat. 'I take it the business of Lower Farm was successfully completed, m'lord?'

'Finally.' Resetthng his coat, Philip turned to the hall minor to check his cravat. “Her ladyship and the Mannerings arrived yesterday?''

'Indeed, m'lord. I comprehend their journey passed without incident.'

'No highwaymen-not even a scheming landlord to chouse us over the reckoning.'

Turning, Philip beheld Antonia, a vision in soft turquoise muslin floating down the stairs. A stray sunbeam lancing through the fanlight struck golden gleams from her hair. “I should hope not,' he said, moving forward to meet her. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss across her fingers. 'I presume my coachman and grooms took good care of you?'

Antonia raised a brow. 'Of all of us. But what of you? Did the widow eventually weaken?'

'She finally came to her senses.' Tucking her hand in his arm, Philip turned her down the corridor. 'However, nothing would do for it but that she had to see me in person so that I could give her an assurance-word of a gentleman-that I would keep her farm labourers on.'

As he opened the door to the back parlour and handed her through, Antonia mused, 'Actually, that seems rather wise-and kind of her, too.'

Philip hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. 'But I would have kept them on anyway. As it was, her summons meant I wasn't here to greet you. It appears I'm fated to return to my house to find you gracing my hall.'

He shut the door behind them. Antonia slanted him a questioning glance as he came to stand beside her. 'Do you find that so disturbing?'

Philip looked down into her green-gold eyes. 'Disturbing?” For all his experience, he felt his senses slide. Taking firm hold of his wits, he clasped his hands behind his back. 'On the contrary.' His lips curved in a deliberately provocative smile. 'That's precisely the result I'm aiming for. In this particular case, however, I had looked forward to welcoming you on your first evening in London.'

Antonia smiled back. “We would hardly have been scintillating company.' Calmly, she strolled to the chaise before the windows. “Henrietta retired immediately. Geoffrey and I had an early dinner and followed her upstairs.' With a swish of her skirts, she settled on the flowered chintz.

'And this morning?' Gracefully, Philip sat beside her, neither overly close nor yet greatly distant. 'I have difficulty believing you slept until noon.'

'No, indeed.' Antonia's smile grew gently teasing. “Geoffrey and I did discuss riding in the Park-he was sure you wouldn't mind if we raided your stable. But I convinced him to wait for your return.'

Philip's expression blanked as he imagined what might have been.

Antonia shifted to face him. 'What is it?'

Philip grimaced. 'There's something I should explain- to you both.' He focused on Antonia's face. 'About riding in town.'

Antonia frowned. “I had thought it was acceptable to ride in the Park.'

'It is. It's the definition of the term 'riding' wherein the ton and the Mannerings differ.'

“Oh?'' Antonia looked her question.

Philip pulled a face. 'For ladies, the prescribed activity known as 'riding in the Park' involves a slow walk for much of the time, with at the most a short canter. Galloping, at least as you know it, is not just frowned upon-for you, it's utterly out of the question.'

Antonia sat back, her expression a study of disgust and dismay. 'Good heavens!'

One of her curls fell in a golden coil over one ear; Philip put out a hand and wound the curl about one finger, then, letting it slowly slip free, he gently brushed his finger against her cheek.

Her eyes flicked to his; Philip felt the familiar tension tighten. He let it hold for one discreet moment, then smoothly retrieved his hand.

'Ah…I don't think I'd actually want to ride if I had to restrain myself to a walk or a canter.' Forcing in a breath, Antonia shook her head. 'I don't think I could.'

'An unquestionably wise decision.' Philip shifted slightly. 'But we'll only be in town for four weeks or so- you'll be able to ride to your heart's content once we return to the Manor.'

'Well, then.' Antonia gestured resignedly. 'I'll just have to consider it a sacrifice made in pursuit of a greater goal.'

Lips lifting, Philip inclined his head. When he looked up, his smile had faded. 'Unfortunately, that's not all.'

Antonia transfixed him with one of her direct looks. 'What?'

'Driving in the Park.' His eyes on hers, Philip grimaced. “I know I mentioned I might consent to let you drive yourself but I had, at that time, imagined myself on the box beside you.'

Antonia frowned. 'So?'

'So, my dear, given we are not about to announce our betrothal, the sight of you driving me behind my greys in the Park would lead to instant and quite rabid speculation-something I take it you are keen to avoid.'

'Oh.' The single syllable accurately conveyed Antonia's feelings.

'Despite such restrictions,' Philip continued, his tone deliberately light, “London is generally considered a haven of entertainment.' Catching Antonia's eye, he lifted a brow. “What have you planned for this afternoon?''

Shaking aside her disappointment, a childish response, she told herself, Antonia straightened. “Henrietta thought a visit to the modistes in Bruton Street to decide which to choose.' Colouring slightly, she met Philip's gaze. 'I'm afraid my wardrobe is hardly up to town standards.'

“Having only just escaped from Yorkshire?'' Reaching out, Philip took her hand. 'I fear I'm not surprised.'

Reassured by his touch rather than his cynical tone, Antonia continued, “Then we thought to stroll Bond Street to look in on the milliners, followed perhaps by a quick turn through the Park.'

Idly playing with her fingers, noting the contrast between her slim digits and his much larger hands, Philip considered, then nodded. He glanced up at the clock on the mantelshelf. 'Henrietta should be stirring from her nap. Why don't you go and tell her I've arrived?' Turning his head, he met Antonia's slightly surprised gaze. And smiled. 'Give me ten minutes to change and I'll accompany you.' Rising, he drew her to her feet, then lifted her hand to his lips. 'On your first outing in town.'

Twenty minutes later, as she settled into a corner of the Ruthven town carriage, Henrietta and her shawls beside her, Philip directly opposite, Antonia was still in the grip of what she told herself was quite uncalled-for gratification. Despite her trenchant lecturing, her happiness swelled. She had never imagined Philip would join them.

The carriage rattled over the cobbles and rounded a corner. Swaying with the movement, Antonia met Philip's eye; she smiled, then let her gaze drift to the window. She had started allowing herself to think of him as her husband; she was, after all, going to be his wife.

That thought, unfortunately, focused her mind on the anxiety nagging quietly in the back of her mind. Philip's proposal had made success in London even more imperative; the ton was her last hurdle-she could not, must not, falter here.

Luckily, the drive to Bruton Street was too short for her to dwell too deeply on her prospects; the carriage pulled up outside a plain wooden door. Philip jumped down, then turned to assist her to the pavement.

As she straightened the skirts of her simple gown, Antonia's gaze fell on the creation displayed in the window beside the door, a breathtakingly simple robe of blue silk crepe. It was, to her eyes, the epitome of stylish elegance, combining simplicity of line with the richness of expensive fabric. An all-but-overwhelming desire to have a such