with Mrs Mimms—let alone the rest of them?”
She had, of course, 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.
