A Comfortable Wife

yet set eyes upon. Both Geoffrey and Ambrose needed no urging to cross the lawns to the carriageway.

'I say! What a bang-up set of blood and bone!' Ambrose eyed Philip's greys with fervid admiration.

Geoffrey turned big eyes on his mentor. 'I don't suppose there's any chance you'll let me take this rig out, even without the greys?'

Philip, who had been gazing at Antonia, a picture in soft sprigged muslin, her face shaded by the brim of the bonnet he had bought her, shifted his gaze briefly to Geoffrey's face. 'None.'

Geoffrey grimaced. 'That's what I thought.'

“Did you want Geoffrey for some reason?'' Antonia had spared only a passing glance for Philip's carriage; his horses she knew well.

'Actually,' Philip said, his gaze once more on her face, 'It was you I came to see. I wondered if you'd care for a turn about the Park?'

Antonia's heart leapt; the subtle challenge in his eyes gave her pause. High-perches were notoriously unstable, safe only in the hands of experienced drivers. She had no concern on that score but gaining the seat, a full six feet above the carriageway, was a different matter.

'What a positively thrilling invitation.' Standing beside Antonia, Catriona looked glowingly up at Philip, her gaze innocent yet knowing. 'You'll be the envy of every lady present.'

Antonia looked up at Philip. 'I would gladly go with you, my lord. Yet I greatly fear…' She gestured at the high step.

'A problem very easily solved.' Philip tied off the reins. 'Geoffrey-hold their heads.'

Geoffrey hurried to the greys' heads; Ambrose followed. Before Antonia fully grasped his intent, Philip jumped down, drew her forward, then lifted her high.

Antonia bit back a squeal-and frantically clung to the side of the high seat. His expression mild, his eyes laughing, Philip followed her up; Antonia quickly but carefully shuffled along the precariously tilting seat. To her relief, Philip's weight once he sat seemed to stabilise the flimsy contraption.

'Relax.' He flicked her a glance as he took up the reins. 'I seem to be advising you to do that rather often these days.' He sent her another teasing glance. 'I wonder why?'

'Because,' Antonia tersely replied, 'you are forever giving me cause to panic.'

Philip laughed as he set the greys in motion. 'Never fear-I give you my word I won't upend you in the middle of the Park. Aside from any other consideration, just think of the damage it would do to my reputation.'

'I'm fast coming to think,' Antonia returned, holding fast to the railings edging the seat, “that this reputation of yours is all a hum, invented by you as a convenient excuse.'

That riposte earned her a distinctly unnerving look.

Before he could think of a comment to go with it, she asked, 'Are you sure I'm not breaking any rules in being driven in such a dangerous equipage?'

'Quite sure,' Philip replied, his tones distinctly dry. 'If anyone is breaking any rules here, 'tis I.'

Antonia widened her eyes at him. “You?''

'Indeed. And seeing I have bent my heretofore inviolable rules and taken you up in the Park, I think it's only fair that you should entertain me, thus leaving me free to devote all my skills to keeping us upright.'

Hiding a smile, Antonia put her nose in the air. 'I'm not at all sure it's proper for me to run on, like some ill- bred gabblemonger.'

'Heaven forbid!' Philip dispensed with his town drawl entirely. 'Just put my mind at rest and tell me what you four were planning.'

Giving up the fight to contain her delight, Antonia smiled dazzlingly, startling a youthful gentleman driving in the opposite direction.

'Cow-handed clunch!' Philip deftly avoided the ensuing melee. 'Now cut line. Remember, I've made myself responsible for your brother.'

'Very well.' Settling more comfortably beside him, shielded from the light wind by his shoulder, Antonia related the latest developments. 'Mr Fortescue has not yet shown his face, but as I gather he must come up from Somerset, I don't believe we can hold that against him.'

Philip shook his head. “He may be a true knight but he obviously lacks a ghostly steed. Or should that be an errant charger?''

'Mr Fortescue, I gather, is a model of decorum.'

'Good lord!' Philip shot her a disbelieving glance. 'And Miss Dalling wishes to marry him?'

'Most definitely.' Antonia paused, then diffidently added, “Actually, while I originally thought some of Miss Dalling's tales might owe more to her imagination than to fact, the latest involve Ambrose as well and he is undeniably not given to flights of fancy.'

'By which you mean he's a slow-top.' Philip glanced down at her. 'But what are these latest exploits?'

'Not so much exploits as experiences. It seems the Countess of Ticehurst and the Marchioness have taken to engineering interludes when Catriona and Ambrose are left alone.'

Philip raised his brows. 'I see.'

'Catriona and Ambrose are both trying quite desperately to ensure there's nothing improper that can be used to force their consent, but the situation is daily becoming more difficult.'

Philip was silent for some minutes, then said, 'It's hard to see what they can do, short of Mr Fortescue coming to the rescue. Even then, given Miss Dalling is under age, the situation's likely to be messy.'

'Indeed. I raised that very point, but Catriona's convinced all will be well once Mr Fortescue arrives.'

Philip raised his brows. 'Which event, I suppose, we should all devoutly pray for.' He cast a glance at Antonia's pensive face. “Having dispensed with that subject, perhaps we can move to some more interesting topic?'

Antonia opened her eyes wide. 'That depends on what you consider interesting, my lord.'

For one pregnant instant, Philip held her gaze; when she coloured, he smiled and looked ahead. 'How about your observations on town life and the Little Season? I dare say I would find those quite fascinating.'

'Indeed?' Antonia stifled the urge to fan her face. 'Very well.' On her mettle, she cast about for inspiration. She found it in a pair of strutting Macaronis, so gaily garbed they resembled walking pansies. 'The strongest impression I have of the ton is of things being other than they seem. There is, to my mind, a great deal of obfuscation and roundaboutation-a great deal of hiding the truth.'

The brief look Philip cast her held a gratifying degree of surprise. Then a curve forced him to give his attention to his greys. Antonia saw his lips firm, then twist in a wry, self-deprecatory smile.

'Remind me, my dear, not to ask such a question of you again.'

'Why not?' Tilting her head, she studied his face. 'I didn't find it impertinent.'

'No-but I'd forgotten your intelligence. Your answers go too deep.' Philip shot her a quick glance. 'The trick with flirtatious repartee is to keep the tone light.'

Antonia blinked. “Flirtatious repartee?''

“Indeed. What else? Now concentrate. Are you intending to grace Lady Gisborne's ballroom tonight?'

'What-ho, Miss Mannering! Dare I claim this cotillion?'

Antonia turned and, laughing, gave her hand to Hugo Satterly. 'Indeed, sir. I had begun to wonder if you had forgotten me.'

'Never.' Straightening from his bow, Hugo placed a hand over his heart. 'After all the trouble I went to to get my name in your card? Fie, my dear-I'm not such a slow-top.'

'You are, however, a rattlepate,' Philip put in from beside Antonia. 'If you don't make a move soon, you'll miss out on the sets.'

'Don't mind him.' Hugo tucked Antonia's hand into his arm and turned her towards the floor. 'He's just jealous.'

Antonia responded with an ingenuous look and a confident smile. She felt entirely at ease with Hugo; he was the perfect companion, always charming, never one to take offence or become difficult over some imagined slight. Like all Philip's set, he was an excellent dancer and could be counted on to fill her ears with the latest on dits.

As they took then places in the nearest set forming on the floor of Lady Gisborne's ballroom, Hugo winked at her. “Hope you don't mind me trying for a rise out of Ruthven? All innocent fun, y'know.'