A Comfortable Wife by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page B

nose in the air and gave her attention to his horses. She had, as she had earlier informed him, some experience of driving a gig. Managing a dull-witted carriage horse was not in the same league as guiding a pair of high-couraged thoroughbreds. At first, the task took all her concentration; Philip spoke only when necessary, giving instructions in clear and precise terms. Only when she was convinced she had mastered the “feel”, the response of the horses to her commands, did she permit herself to relax enough to take stock.
    Only then did the full import of her situation strike her.
    Philip’s arm had loosened yet still lay protectively about her. Although still watchful, he sat back beside her, his gaze idly scanning the fields. They were in a lane, bordered by hedges, meandering along a rolling ridge. Glimpses of distant woods beyond emerald fields, of orchards and of willows lining streams, beckoned; Antonia saw none of them, too distracted by the sensation of the solid masculine thigh pressed alongside hers.
    She drew in a deep breath and felt her breasts swell, impossibly sensitive against her fine chemise. If she’d been wearing stays, she would have been sure they were laced too tight. That left only one reason for her giddiness—the same ridiculous sensitivity that had assailed her from the first, from the moment she had met Philip in the hall. She had put it down to simple nervousness—if not that, then merely a dim shadow of the infatuation she had felt for years.
    An infatuation she had convinced herself would fade when confronted with reality.
    Instead, reality had taken her infatuation and turned it into—what?
    A shiver threatened—Antonia struggled to suppress it.
    She didn’t, in fact, succeed.
    Through the arm about her, Philip felt the telltale reaction. Lazily, he studied her, his gaze shrewd and penetrating. Her attention was locked on his leader’s ears. “I’ve been thinking—about Geoffrey.”
    “Oh?”
    “I was wondering if, considering his age, it might not be advisable to temporarily delay his departure for Oxford. He hasn’t seen much of the world—a few weeks in London might be for the best. It would certainly put him on a more even footing with his peers.”
    Her gaze on the road, Antonia frowned. After neatly if absentmindedly taking the next corner, she replied, “For myself, I agree.” She grimaced and glanced fleetingly at Philip. “But I’m not sure he will—he’s very attached to his books. And how can we argue, if the time wasted will put him behind?”
    Philip’s lips curved. “Don’t worry your head about convincing him—you may leave that to me.”
    Antonia shot him a glance, clearly not sure whether to encourage him or not.
    Philip pretended not to notice. “As for his studies, his academic performance is, I’m sure, sufficiently strong for him to catch up a few weeks without difficulty. Where’s he going?”
    “Trinity.”
    “I know the Master.” Philip smiled to himself. “If you like, I’ll write and ask permission to keep him down until the end of the Little Season.”
    Antonia slowed the greys in order to turn and study him. “You know the Master?”
    Philip lifted a haughty brow. “Your family is not the only one with a connection to the college.”
    Antonia’s eyes narrowed. “You went there?”
    Philip nodded, his expression impassive as he watched her struggle with her uncertainty.
    In the end, convinced there was no subtle way in which to frame her question, Antonia drew in a deep breath and asked, “And what, do you think, will be the Master’s response to such a request—from you?”
    Philip met her gaze with bland incomprehension. “My dear Antonia, whatever do you mean?”
    She shot him a fulminating glance, then turned back to the horses. “I mean—as you very well know—that such a request from one whose reputation is such as yours can be construed in a number of ways, not all of which the Master is likely to