'Exactly.' All but bouncing on his toes, Geoffrey nodded. 'I wondered if you'd consider sponsoring me at Manton's-in return for my sterling efforts?'
His smile was infectious; briefly, Philip returned it. Manton's was, in fact, one of the safer venues for one of Geoffrey's years. 'I'll have to speak with Manton himself-he doesn't normally encourage youngsters.'
Geoffrey's face fell. 'Oh.'
'Don't get your hopes too high,' Philip advised, turning to accept his cane from Carring who had silently approached. 'But he may make an exception.' Turning to Geoffrey, he raised his brows. 'Provided, that is, that you can handle a pistol?'
'Of course I can! What sort of countryman can't?'
'As to that, I can't say.' Extracting a card from his case, Philip handed it to Geoffrey. 'If you get caught anywhere, use that. If not, meet me outside Manton's at two.'
'Capital!' Eyes glowing, Geoffrey scanned the card, then put it in his pocket. 'I'll be there.' With a nod, he turned to go, then turned back. 'Oh, I say-Antonia mentioned about the riding.'
'Ah, yes.' Philip waved away the hat Carring offered.
'Would it be a problem if I took one of your horses out in the mornings? I was speaking with your grooms-they seemed to think it was all right-that is, permissible-for me to ride early, say about nine.'
'Indeed.' Philip nodded. 'And yes, before you ask, you can gallop down the tan-as long as you remain on the track. The keepers don't appreciate having their lawns cut to pieces.'
'Oh, good!' Geoffrey's face glowed. 'Antonia explained how she can't gallop but I thought that might just be one of those feminine things.'
'Precisely,' Philip replied. With a wave, he headed for the door.
The words returned to haunt Philip as he idly strolled the clipped lawns bordering the carriageway in the Park, his gaze scanning the landaus and barouches wending their way along the fashionable avenue. He had dined well with friends at a select eatery in Jermyn Street, then met Geoffrey at Manton's.
After prevailing on the proprietor to overlook Geoffrey's age, an argument greatly assisted by his protege’s undeniable skill with a pistol, he had left Geoffrey happily culping wafers and repaired to Gentleman Jackson's Boxing Salon. Declining an invitation to don a pair of gloves and spar with the great man himself, an acquaintance of many years, he had strolled the rooms, catching up with cronies and identifying the notables already in town. What gossip there was he had gleaned, then, with no pressing engagement, he had let his feet wander where they would.
They had brought him here. He wasn't sure whether he approved or not.
On the thought, he spied the Ruthven barouche, rolling slowly around the circuit. He raised his arm; his coachman saw him and drew the carriage into the verge. He strolled up as John was explaining his actions.
'Oh, it's you.' Turning, Henrietta fixed him with one of her more intimidatory stares 'Perfect. You can take Antonia for a stroll on the lawns.'
Philip's answering glance held a definite hint of steel. 'Precisely my intention, ma'am.'
Henrietta fluffed her shawls and sank back against the cushions. 'I'll wait here.'
His lips compressed, Philip opened the door and held out his hand commandingly-before pulling himself up. His gaze flew to Antonia's face; the blank look in her eyes struck him like a blow. He drew in a quick breath. 'That is, if you would like to take the air, my dear?' Where on earth had his years of experience gone? He had never acted so insensitively in his life.
Bundling an uncharacteristic spurt of temper, and a less well-defined hurt, aside, Antonia forced herself to nod. Outwardly serene, she placed her fingers in his. She did not meet his gaze as he assisted her out of the carriage, even though she could feel it on her face.
Settling her hand on his sleeve, Philip drew in a deep breath. And set himself to regain the ground he'd lost.
About them, the lawns were merely dotted with other couples, not crowded as they would be in a few weeks' time. 'The company, I'm afraid, is somewhat thin at the moment.' Glancing down at Antonia's face, he smiled. 'As soon as the weather turns, the
Determined to hold her own, Antonia lifted her chin. 'I've heard that there's no place on earth to rival London for all manner of diversions.'
'Quite true.' Philip succeeded in catching her eye. 'Are you looking forward to being diverted?'
Shifting her gaze forward, Antonia raised her brows. 'I suppose I am. Henrietta seems quite caught up with it all. She was certainly in her element at Lafarge's this morning.'
'Ah, yes. How did your session with Madame go?'
Antonia shrugged lightly. 'I have to admit I'm very impressed by her designs. She's sending the first of the gowns tomorrow.' Glancing down at her cambric skirts, she pulled a face. 'Not a moment too soon, I suspect.' Her gaze rose to take in the stylish toilettes of two ladies strolling by.
'After tomorrow, my dear, you'll take the shine out of all the London belles.'
Despite her determination to remain aloof, Antonia's lips twitched. She shot Philip a glance-which he was waiting to catch.
He laid a hand on his heart. 'Nothing more than the truth, I swear.'
She had to laugh; to her surprise, it cleared the air, allowing her to respond more easily.
'The smaller, less formal parties will be starting soon, I imagine.'
'Indeed,' she replied evenly. 'Henrietta already has a small stack of invitations.'
'And then will come the crushes as the major hostesses return to the fray.'
'Hmm.' She hid a frown.
Philip glanced down at her. 'I thought you were looking forward to experiencing the
Fleetingly, Antonia met his gaze. “I certainly expect my time here to be an experience-an undertaking necessary to extend my understanding of society and its ways. As for enjoyment-' She shrugged. 'I don't know enough to anticipate it.'
Philip studied her face, open and honest as always; his expression softened. 'Strange to tell, there's more to London than
Antonia looked up, brows lifting.
'There's the theatre and opera, of course-but you know of them. Then there's Astley's and Vauxhall across the river, both worth a visit if it's simple pleasures you seek.' Looking down, Philip met her gaze. 'And I own to surprise that neither you nor Geoffrey has yet developed a yearning to see the museum.'
Without waiting for her comment, he continued, blithely extolling the virtues of the capital, detailing sights and possible excursions, gently twitting her on her ignorance until, with a laugh, she conceded, 'Very well-I will own that I might, indeed, enjoy my stay in London. I hadn't realized there was so much we-' Abruptly, Antonia caught herself up. She drew in a steadying breath. 'So much to see,' she amended.
Trying but failing to trap her gaze, Philip inwardly frowned. 'Having been interred in the wilds of Yorkshire as you have, that's hardly surprising. We must make an effort to take in some of the sights at least, before the season gets into full swing.'
Antonia glanced up and met his gaze. “That would be very… pleasant.'
Philip smiled. 'We'll have to see what we can squeeze in.'
They had reached the barouche; opening the door, he handed her in. 'Until later,' he said, his eyes on hers.
Antonia nodded, regally assured. Henrietta humphed and tapped John Coachman on the shoulder. Philip watched the carriage draw away; a frown slowly formed in his eyes. An odd constraint seemed to have sprung up between them- he couldn't for the life of him see why.
At six o'clock that evening, Antonia started up the stairs. The dinner gong had just sounded; it was time to change her gown. Nearing the landing, she heard footsteps above. Looking up, she met Philip's gaze. She stopped on the landing, watching as he descended.
He was wearing a stylish coat of Bath superfine over ivory inexpressibles; an intricately tied cravat, tasselled Hessians and a waistcoat of amber silk completed the outfit. His hair looked freshly brushed, waving gently about
