Her lips compressed, Antonia kicked free of her stirrups, slid down from her perch—and rounded on him.
“After accusing me of attempting to seduce you, you expect me to—?” Words failed her; her eyes blazed. With a smothered scream, she flung her reins at his head, swung on her heel and marched out of the yard.
CHAPTER FIVE
SEDUCING HIM? AS if that was possible.
Smothering a snort, Antonia dragged her brush through her thick wavy hair. Sunshine streamed in through her bedchamber window; the morning breeze came with it, bringing the crisp tang of grass and dew-washed greenery. The day of the fête had dawned bright and clear; unable to sleep, she had risen and donned her sprig muslin, then sat down to tend her curls.
And consider how best to deal with her host.
She might have tried to make him notice her, she might have tried to make him see her as a potential wife. But to accuse her of seducing him?
“Hah!” Frowning direfully at the mirror, she gritted her teeth and ruthlessly dealt with a tangle. She was not such a scheming female!
The very notion that a lady such as she, of severely restricted experience, could seduce a gentleman of his vast and, she had no doubt, varied background, was ludicrous. None of the seducing that had been done to date could be laid at her door.
She knew very well who had been seducing whom.
Those moments in the woods had opened her eyes; until then she had been too distracted by her reactions, too caught up with suppressing them, to focus on what drew them forth. Now she knew.
The Lord only knew what she was going to do about it.
The hand holding her brush stilled; Antonia studied the face that looked back at her from her mirror, the trim figure displayed therein. It had never occurred to her that Philip, with all the accommodating ladies of the ton from whom to choose, would fix any real part of his interest on her.
She had thought to be his wife but had envisaged he would feel nothing beyond mere affection for her—that and the lingering warmth of long-standing friendship. That was what she had expected, what she had steeled herself to accept—the position of a conventional wife.
His actions in the woods suggested she had miscalculated.
He wanted her—desired her. A delicious thrill ran through her. For an instant, she savoured it, then, frowning again, resumed her brushing. A serious problem had surfaced with his ardour—namely, hers. Or, more specifically, how, given a gentleman’s expectations of his wife, she was supposed to keep her feelings hidden or, at the very least, acceptably disguised.
The door opened; Nell walked in, stopping in amazement at the sight of her.
“Great heavens! And here I’d thought to wake you.”
Antonia brushed more vigorously. “There’s still a lot to do—I don’t wish to be rushed at the last.”
Nell snorted and came to take the brush. “Seemingly you’re not the only one. I just saw his lordship downstairs. Thought he must be going riding, but then I noticed he wasn’t in top boots. Very natty, he looked, I must say.”
“Indeed.” Clasping her hands in her lap, Antonia infused the word with the utmost disinterest. Philip had tried to speak with her last night, first in the drawing-room before dinner, when Geoffrey’s enthusiasm had saved her, then later, when she was pouring the tea. She had affected deafness to his low-voiced “Antonia?” and handed him a brimming cup.
She was not about to forgive him, to let him close again, not until the panicky feelings inside subsided, not until she was again confident of carrying off their interaction with the assurance expected of a prospective wife.
“Dare say you’ll have your hands full today, acting as hostess in her ladyship’s stead.” Nell deftly wound the golden mass of Antonia’s hair into a tight bun, teasing tendrils free to wreathe about her ears and nape. “She told Trant she intends going no further than the terrace.”
Antonia shifted on the stool. “She’s getting too old to stand up to the crowds—I’m only glad I can help her in this way.”
“Aye—and his lordship, too. Can’t think that he’d appreciate having to face it all by himself.”
Antonia glanced searchingly at Nell but there was no evidence of intent in her maid’s homely features. “Naturally I’ll be on hand to aid his lordship in any way I can.”
A role she could hardly escape, having worked so diligently to earn it. Being at odds with Philip on today of all days was going to be simply impossible. They would have to make their peace before the guests arrived.
As soon as Nell pronounced her fit to face the day, Antonia headed downstairs. As she descended the last flight, her nemesis strolled into the hall. Looking up, he stopped at the foot of the stairs—and waited. Antonia paused, meeting his gaze. In the hall above, a door opened then slowly closed. Drawing in a steadying breath, Antonia continued her descent, her expression determinedly aloof.
Philip turned to face her, effectively blocking her way. As Nell had intimated, he was precise to a pin in a grey morning coat, his cravat tied in a simple but elegant knot. A subdued waistcoat, form-fitting breeches and glossy Hessians completed the outfit—perfect for a wealthy gentleman about to greet his neighbours. His movements, Antonia noted, were once again lazy; his habitual air of languid indolence hung like a cloak about him. She stopped on the last step, her eyes level with his. “Good morning, my lord.” She kept her tone coolly polite.
Only his eyes, his grey gaze sharply intent as it met hers, gave evidence of yesterday’s turmoil.
“Good morning, Antonia.” Holding her gaze, Philip raised a brow. “Pax?”
Antonia narrowed her eyes. “You accused me of seducing you.”
“A momentary aberration.” Philip kept his eyes on hers. “I know you didn’t.” He had managed that all by himself.
She was, after all, an innocent; regardless of any scheme she and Henrietta had concocted, what had flared between them was more his doing than hers.
Antonia hesitated, studying his bland countenance.
Despite his determination to remain distant, Philip felt his lips twist. He reached for her hand. “Antonia—”
The sound of a heavy footstep had them both looking up.
“Henrietta.” Lips tightening, Philip caught Antonia’s gaze. “I need you as my hostess, Antonia.” His fingers tightened about hers. “I want you by my side.”
It took a moment for Antonia to subdue her response to his touch, his plea. Stiffly, she inclined her head; behind her, she could hear Henrietta on the landing. “You may count on me, my lord.” She kept her voice low. “I won’t let you down.”
Philip held her gaze. “And I won’t let you down.” For an instant, he held still, then, eyes glinting, swiftly raised her fingers to his lips. “I’ll even promise not to bite.”
* * *
AS THE DAY PROGRESSED, Antonia found herself grateful for the reassurance. Henrietta had elected to greet her visitors at the bottom of the terrace steps; Fenton was stationed at the front of the house, directing all arrivals around the corner to the south lawn.
After settling Henrietta by the balustrade, Antonia, her eye on Mrs Mimms, approaching like a galleon under full sail, two anaemic daughters in tow, murmured, “I’ll just go the rounds and check—”
“Nonsense, my dear.” Closing her crabbed fingers about Antonia’s wrist, Henrietta smiled up at her. “Your place is beside me.”
Antonia frowned. “There’s no need—”
“What say you, Ruthven?” Henrietta glanced at Philip, standing behind her, his gaze fixed on Mrs Mimms. “Don’t you think Antonia should stand by us?”
“Indubitably,” Philip stated. He shifted his gaze to Antonia, subtle challenge in his eyes. “How else, my dear, will we cope with Mrs Mimms—let alone the rest of them?”
She had, of c
ourse, to acquiesce; the result was predictable. Introduced by a beaming Henrietta as “My very dear niece—dare say you remember her—spent many summers here with us all. Don’t know how we could have managed this without her,” she found herself transfixed by Mrs Mimms’ basilisk stare.
“Indeed? Helping out?” Mrs Mimms cast a knowledgeable eye over the tables and booths scattered over the lawns and terrace. Her lips thinned as her gaze fell on Philip, already greeting the next guests. “I see.”
Those two bare words effectively summarized Mrs Mimms’s reading of the situation. Determined not to let it, or anything else, rattle her, Antonia smiled serenely. “I do hope you enjoy yourself.” With a gentle nod, she allowed her gaze to shift to Horatia and Honoria Mimms, both of whom had yet to drag their attention from Philip. Their protuberant eyes were fixed on his face in cloying adoration. “And your daughters, too, of course.”
Mrs Mimms glanced sharply at her offspring. “Come along, girls!” She frowned intimidatingly. “Stop dilly-dallying!” With a swirl of her skirts, she led the way up the terrace steps.
Mrs Mimms was not alone among the local ladies in having seen in the Manor’s invitation a chance to press their daughters’ claims. That much was made clear as the guests flooded in. Antonia found herself the object of quite a few disconcerted stares. Many recalled her from her earlier visits; while most greeted her warmly, the matrons with unmarried daughters in tow were distinctly more reserved.
Lady Archibald was characteristically forthright in her surprise. “Damnation! Thought you’d disappeared. Or at least were safely wed!”
Antonia struggled to hide her grin. It was impossible to take offence; her ladyship, while hardly the soul of tact, possessed an indefatigably kind heart. She watched as her ladyship, frowning, looked down on the mousy young lady hugging her shadow, her gaze, like all the other young ladies’ gazes, seemed to be fixed on Philip. Lady Archibald humphed. “Come along, Emily. No point in making sheep’s eyes in that direction.”
Antonia made a point of shaking hands with Emily to soften that trenchant remark. But the girl appeared not to have heeded it, continuing to cast shy but glowing glances at Philip.
After directing her ladyship and Emily to the terrace, Antonia turned to greet the next guest, in doing so, she met Philip’s eye.
She had never before seen such an expression of aggravated exasperation on his face. It was a fight to keep her lips in the prescribed gentle smile; her jaw ached for a full five minutes. Thereafter, she studiously avoided his gaze whenever smitten young ladies stood before them.
The novelty of the event had ensured a large turnout. All their neighbours had accepted, rolling up the drive in chaises and carriages, many open so the occupants could bask in the bright sunshine. Philip’s tenants came in carts or on foot, lifting their caps or dropping shy curtsies as they passed the reception line on their way to join the congregation on the lawn.
Amongst the last to arrive was the party from the Grange, some miles beyond the village. Sir Miles and Lady Castleton were new to the district since Antonia’s last visit; she studied them as they approached, her ladyship strolling in the lead, an aloof expression on her lovely face, a slim, dark-haired young lady in her wake.
“My dear Ruthven!” With a dramatic gesture, Lady Castleton presented her hand. A statuesque brunette, fashionably pale, she was elegantly gowned in figured muslin, her face set in lines of studied boredom. “What a novel—quite exhausting—idea!” A cloud of heady perfume engulfed the reception party. Her ladyship’s gaze shifted to Henrietta. “I don’t know how you could bear to handle all this, my dear. You must be positively prostrated. So naughty of Ruthven to expect it of you.”
“Nonsense, Selina!” Henrietta frowned and straightened her shoulders. “If you must know, having a major gathering was my idea—Ruthven was merely good enough to humour me.”
“Indeed,” Philip drawled, releasing her ladyship’s hand after the most perfunctory shake. He turned to Sir Miles. “I can confirm that it was not my will that gave rise to today’s entertainment.”
Sir Miles, bluffly genial, was a stark contrast to his wife. Chuckling, he pumped Philip’s hand. “No need to tell me that! Not a man here doesn’t know what it’s like.”
“As you say.” Philip’s smile remained easy as he nodded to the girl who stood between Sir Miles and his wife. “Miss Castleton.”
“Good afternoon, my lord.” Boldly, Miss Castleton presented her hand with the same dramatic flair as her mother. She accompanied it with an openly inviting, distinctly brazen look. Not as tall as Antonia, she was possessed of a full figure, more revealed than concealed by her fine muslin gown.
Philip glanced at her hand as if mildly surprised to find it hanging before him. He clasped it but fleetingly, his gaze, blank, shifting to Lady Castleton, then Antonia as he half turned.
“Haven’t introduced you to my niece.” Henrietta gestured to Antonia, adroitly deflecting attention from Miss Castleton, who promptly pouted. “Miss Mannering.”
With a calm smile, Antonia held out her hand.
Lady Castleton’s sharp, black-eyed gaze travelled over her; an arrested expression flitted over her pale face. “Ah,” she said, smiling but not with her eyes. Briefly touching Antonia’s fingers, she looked down at Henrietta. “It’s reassuring to see that you’ve found someone to act as companion at last.”
“Companion?” Henrietta blinked; Antonia noted her aunt’s straight back but could not fault her guileless expression as she exclaimed, “Oh—I keep forgetting you’re newcomers!” Henrietta smiled, all confiding condescension. “No, no—Antonia’s often visited here. Been her second home for years. Now her mama’s passed on, she’s naturally come to stay with me.” Turning, Henrietta squeezed Antonia’s arm. “But you’re right in part—it’s a great relief to have someone capable of organising all this sort of thing—exhausting at my age but, as you must know, quite one’s duty.”
Antonia took her cue, smiling fondly at Henrietta. “Indeed, but I assure you, aunt, I haven’t found it exhausting at all.” Glancing up, still smiling, she met Lady Castleton’s hard gaze. “I’m quite used to organising such affairs—all part of a young lady’s education, as my mama was wont to say.”
Lady Castleton’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed?”
“Be that as it may,” Philip said, deftly coming between Antonia and Henrietta, “I believe it’s time we adjourned to the terrace.” Capturing Antonia’s hand, he tucked it into one elbow, then held his other arm rigid as Henrietta leaned heavily upon it. “Sir Miles?”
“Indeed, m’lord.” Before Lady Castleton could reclaim the initiative, Sir Miles drew her arm through his, then offered his other arm to his daughter. “Couldn’t agree more. Let’s go, what?”
Without a backward glance, Sir Miles ushered his ladies up the steps.
Philip waited until they were out of earshot, then glanced pointedly down at the ladies on his arms. “Might I suggest, my dears, that we get this exhausting, exceedingly well-organised event underway?”
They saw Henrietta settled in her seat at one end of the long table, then Philip escorted Antonia to her chosen position halfway down the board. “I never thought to say it, but thank heaven for Ladies Archibald and Hammond.”
As she sat, Antonia glanced at the head of the table where the two ladies in question, imposing matrons both, flanked Philip’s empty chair. Settling her skirts, she cast a questioning glance up at him.
Philip bent close. “They take precedence over Lady Castleton.” With a glint of a smile and a lifted brow, he straightened and moved away.
Antonia disguised her grin as a cheery smile; she hunted for Lady Castleton and found her seated on the opposite side, some places away, her exquisite features marred by an expression of disaffected boredom. Her ladyship’s disdain, however, was not evinced by others; as the food, laboured over
by Mrs Hobbs, Cook and a small battalion of helpers, appeared on the crisp damask cloth, genial conversation rose on all sides. As Fenton and his minions filled goblets and glasses, the festive atmosphere grew.
Philip proposed a toast to the company, then bade them enjoy the day. When he sat, the feast began.
From the corner of her eye, Antonia kept watch over the steady stream of maids carrying platters to the lower tables. To her mind, Philip’s tenants were, in this instance, as important if not more so than his neighbours. Neighbours would be invited on other occasions; this was one of the few when tenants partook of their landlord’s largesse. Trestles groaned as trays loaded with mouth-watering pastries, succulent savouries and roasted meats, together with breads, cheeses and pitchers of ale, were placed upon them. The company seemed in fine fettle; she could detect nothing but unfettered gaiety around the tables on the lawn.
She had wondered whether the noise from the lower tables would prove overwhelming. As she returned her attention to the conversations about her, she dismissed the thought; those on the terrace were more than capable of holding their own.
The long meal passed without incident, bar an altercation which arose at the table set aside for the tenants’ children, which their fathers promptly quashed. When the fruit platters were all but empty, the boards were drawn; the dowagers and others ill-inclined to the games, contests and feats of skill slated to fill the afternoon, settled in their chairs on the terrace to enjoy a comfortable cose and possibly a nap in the warm sunshine.
The more robust of the guests adjourned to the lawns.
Straightening from having a last word with Henrietta, Antonia found Philip by her side.
When she looked her surprise, he raised a brow. “You didn’t seriously imagine I’d brave the dangers of the lawns without you to protect me?”