The vicar's daughters nodded, quickly taking Horatia's arms. But Horatia unexpectedly stood her ground, her cheeks slowly turning an unfortunate shade of red. She looked helplessly at Antonia. "I'm most extremely sorry, Miss Mannering. I didn't mean to—" She broke off and bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the ground.
Antonia took pity on her. “An unfortunate occurrence— we'll say no more about it."
The relief that flooded all three faces was almost comical. With quick bobs, the three took themselves off, moving out of Philip's orbit as fast as they could.
"An unfortunate occurrence, my foot!" Philip glowered after them. "The little wretches—"
"Were only behaving as young girls often do." Antonia slanted him a glance. "Particularly when presented with such provocation as is present here today."
Philip's eyes narrowed. "I do not appreciate being the butt of their silly fancies."
Antonia smiled. "Never mind." She patted his arm soothingly. "Come and present the archery prizes—from the whoops, I think the contests must be over."
Philip sent her a darkling glance but allowed her to steer him to the area by the lake where the archery contest had been held.
He might not appreciate the adoration of young girls, but he clearly had no difficulty coping with the same emotion in youthful cubs. Antonia watched as they danced about him while he gave an impromptu speech congratulating the winners of the three competitions. With the prizes awarded, he returned to her side.
They adjourned to the terrace for tea. Despite numerous invitations to do otherwise, Philip held trenchantly to her side. Then it was time to cross to where the junior equestrians had been kept busy for most of the afternoon.
They regained the lawns, only to discover Lady Castleton in their path. Her daughter walked beside her on the arm of Mr Gerald Moresby, a younger son of Moresby Hall.
"There you are, Ruthven." Lady Castleton placed one manicured hand firmly on Philip's sleeve. "You've been positively hiding yourself away amongst the farmers, sir— quite ignoring those who would, one might imagine, have far greater claim to your attention."
One glance convinced Antonia that her ladyship saw nothing outrageous in her statement. Philip, she noticed, looked bored.
Oblivious, Lady Castleton rolled on. "So you've driven us to make our wishes plain, my lord. Calliope has conceived a great wish to view your rose garden but unfortunately Gerald cannot abide the flowers—they make him sneeze."
"Quite right." Gerald Moresby grinned. "Can't abide the smell, y'know."
"So," Lady Castleton concluded, "as Miss Mannering is apparently acting as hostess in her aunt's stead, I suggest she takes Mr Moresby on an amble about the lake while you, my lord, can lend me your arm and escort myself and Calliope through your rose garden."
Gerald rubbed his hands together, his gaze on Antonia. "Capital idea, what?"
Antonia did not think so. Eight years ago, Gerald had been a most untrustworthy character. Judging by the expression in his pale blue eyes and the way his weak mouth shifted, he had not improved with the years.
Sensing sudden tension beside her, she glanced up to find Philip's gaze fixed on Gerald's face, his lips curved in a smile that was not entirely pleasant.
"I'm afraid, dear lady," Philip smoothly said, shifting his gaze from Gerald Moresby's lecherous countenance, thereby denying a sudden urge to rearrange it, “that as Miss Mannering and I are sharing the honours in entertaining my tenants, our time is not our own. I'm sure you understand the situation," he sauvely continued, "being yourself the chatelaine of an estate."
He was well aware of Lady Castleton's background; it did not encompass any great experience of "lady of the manor" duties.
Which was why, stumped by his comment, unable to contradict it, her ladyship resorted to a cold-eyed stare.
"I knew you'd understand." Philip inclined his head, his hand trapping Antonia's where it rested on his sleeve. "But I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us—the junior equestrians await." He included Lady Castleton and her daughter in his benedictory smile; it didn't stretch as far as Gerald Moresby.
As they passed out of earshot, Antonia drew a deep breath. "How positively. . ." She paused, hunting for words.
"Brilliant?" Philip suggested. "Glib? Artful?"
"I was thinking of ruthless." She cast him a reproving glance.
The look he bent upon her was less readable. "You wanted to wander by the lake with Gerald Moresby?''
"Of course not." Antonia quelled a shudder. "He's a positive toad."
Philip humphed. "Well, Miss Castleton's a piranha, so they're well matched—and we're well rid of them."
Antonia had no wish to argue.