'If that's so,' Henry mused, 'then perhaps Catriona could claim her ladyship's protection?'
Philip nodded. 'It seems a likely possibility.'
'Well, then!' Fired with newfound zeal, Henry straightened in his saddle. 'All that remains is to discover her ladyship's direction and I'll apply to her directly.' He looked hopefully at Antonia.
Antonia shook her head. 'Catriona never mentioned where Lady Copely lives.'
Henry grimaced.
'I suggest,' Philip said, 'that as Catriona may have information on how best to approach Lady Copely, it would be wise for you to meet with Catriona prior to hunting up her ladyship.'
Henry nodded. 'I confess I would like to do so. But if she's truly kept close, how will we manage it?'
Dismissively, Philip waved one elegant hand. 'A little forethought, a spot of strategic planning and the thing's done. There's a small field, part of an old orchard, at the back of the shrubbery. If you leave your horse in the woods on that side, you should be able to reach it easily. Be there at three this afternoon. The older ladies will be snoozing. I'll arrange for Catriona to be there.'
Henry's eagerness was tempered by caution. 'But if the Countess keeps watch on her-Catriona said even the servants spy on her-then what hope has she of winning free?'
'You may leave all to me.' Philip smiled and gathered his reins. 'I assure you the Countess herself will speed her on her way.'
Henry managed to look doubtful and grateful simultaneously.
Philip laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 'Three-don't be late.'
'I won't be.' Henry met Philip's gaze. 'And thank you, sir. I can't think why you should put yourself out for us like this, but I'm extremely grateful for your help.'
'Not at all.' Philip wheeled his mount, collecting Antonia with his gaze. 'It's the obvious solution.'
With a nod, he clicked his reins; with a wave to Henry, Antonia fell in beside him. Together, they cantered back towards the woods. As they neared the entrance to the ride, Philip slowed and glanced at Antonia's face. She was frowning. 'What now?'
From beneath her lashes, she shot him a suspicious glance.
Philip met it, and pointedly raised his brows.
Antonia pulled a face at him. 'If you must know,' she declared, her accents repressive, 'I was recalling telling Catriona that you were a past master at arranging clandestine meetings.' With that, she tossed her head, setting her curls dancing, then flicked her reins and entered the ride.
Following on her horse's heels, Philip smiled. Wolfishly.
Chapter Fourteen
Operating under strict instructions, Antonia said nothing to Catriona regarding her impending salvation. 'Her dramatic talents hardly lend themselves to concealment,' Philip had drily observed. 'The Countess will take one look at her and our goose will be cooked.'
Hence, when she took her seat at the luncheon table, Catriona was still in the grip of morose despair. Slipping into the chair beside Philip's, Antonia shot him a reproving glance.
He met it with bland imperturbability, then, turning, addressed the Countess.
The meal passed much as its predecessor, with one notable exception. The previous evening, the conversation had been dominated by the Countess and the Marchioness. Today, Philip set himself to engage, then artfully divert their attention. Applying herself to her meal, Antonia wondered if their ladyships would see the danger therein.
'Indeed.' Philip leaned back in his chair, gesturing languidly in response to a comment by the Marchioness on the immaturity of young gentlemen. 'It's my contention that until the age of thirty-four, gentlemen understand very little of the real forces extant in the
Antonia choked; glancing up, she caught Henrietta's eye-they both quickly looked elsewhere.
'Quite so.' The Countess nodded grimly, her gaze on Ambrose. 'Until they have reached the age of wisdom, it behoves them to take all heed of the advice of their elders.'
'Indubitably.' Across the table, Philip met Henrietta's gaze. He smiled urbanely, a smile his stepmother was unlikely to misconstrue. 'So helpful, when others point out the reality of things.'
'I can only say I wish more gentlemen had your insight, Ruthven.' With that, the Marchioness embarked on a succession of anecdotes illustrating the varied horrors that had befallen young gentlemen lacking such discernment.
By the time the platters were empty, Ambrose was sulking while Catriona had sunk even deeper into gloom. Only Geoffrey, Antonia noticed, appeared oblivious of Philip's defection. She concluded her brother was either too fly to the time of day to believe any such thing, or was already appraised of Philip's plan.
The latter seemed most likely when the Countess leaned forward to demand, 'Now-what are your plans for the afternoon?''
'Mr Mannering,' Philip replied, 'is for his books, I believe?' His gaze rested on Geoffrey, who nodded equably. Philip turned to the Countess. “We discussed the point you made regarding his presence here, rather than at Oxford, and concluded a few hours study each day would be a sound investment against the time when he goes up.'
The Countess glowed. 'I'm very glad you saw fit to take my advice.'
Philip inclined his head. “As for the rest, Miss Mannering and I are for the gardens. They appear quite extensive- a pity to waste this weather indoors. I wondered if the Marquess and Miss Dalling would like to accompany us?'
'I'm sure they would.' The Marchioness nodded approvingly, her compelling gaze fixed on her hapless son.
Ambrose hid a grimace, then glanced at Catriona, mute, beside him. 'Perhaps…'
'Of course!
When everyone looked her way, Catriona nodded dully.
Ten minutes later, they left the house by the morning-room windows and headed into the rose gardens. Strolling on Philip's arm, Antonia studied Catriona and Ambrose, drifting aimlessly ahead, feet trailing, shoulders slumped.
'So-what did you think of my superlative strategy?'
Glancing up, she met Philip's eye. 'It was, quite definitely, the most sickeningly cloying exhibition of humbug I have ever witnessed.'
Philip looked ahead. 'There were a few grains of truth concealed amidst the dross.'
Antonia snorted. 'Flummery, pure flummery, from start to finish. I'm surprised it didn't stick in your throat.'
'I have to admit the whole was rather too sweet for my liking, but their ladyships lapped it up, which was, after all, my purpose.'
'Ah, yes-your purpose.' Antonia longed to ask, point-blank, what that was. It was not, after all, Catriona and Ambrose's problem which had brought him here.
The thought focused her mind on what lay, ignored yet unresolved, between them. As they strolled in the sunlight, largely without words, she had ample time to consider the possibilities and the actualities-and whether she could convert the former to the latter.
Beneath her fingers, she could feel the strength in Philip's arm; as their shoulders brushed, awareness of him enveloped her. Like a well-remembered scent laid down in her memories, he was part of her at some deep, uncomprehended level. And just like such a scent, she longed to capture and hold him, his attention, his affection, precisely as laid down in her mind.
'There you are!'
They halted; turning, they saw Geoffrey striding towards them. 'You've been with your books barely an hour,' Antonia exclaimed.
