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 approve."

Philip's deep rumbling laughter had her setting her teeth.

"Oh, well done!" he eventually said. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

Antonia glared at him, then clicked the reins, setting the horses to a definite trot.

Philip straightened his lips. "Rest assured that my stand­ing with the Master is sufficient that such a request will be interpreted in the most favourable light."

The glance Antonia threw him held enough lingering sus­picion to make him narrow his eyes. "I do not, dear An­tonia, have any reputation for corrupting the innocent."

She had, he noted, sufficient grace to blush.

"Very well." Antonia nodded but kept her gaze locked on the leader. "I'll mention the matter to Geoffrey."

"No—leave that to me. He'll be more receptive to the idea if I suggest it."

Antonia knew her brother well enough not to argue. Head high, she turned the horses for home, determinedly disre­garding the inward flutter Philip had managed to evoke.

After studying her profile, Philip said no more until she pulled the horses up before the front steps. Descending, he strolled leisurely around to come up beside her, meeting her watchful, slightly wary gaze with open appreciation. "A commendable first outing. To my mind, you're still holding them a little tight in the curves but that judgement will come with practice."

Before she could reply, he twitched the reins from her hands and tossed them to the groom who had come running from the stables. While the movement had her distracted, he closed his hands about her waist, well aware of the ten­sion that gripped her as he lifted her down.

"You'll be pleased to know," he glibly stated, holding her before him and gazing down into suddenly wide eyes, "that I'm completely satisfied that your peculiar ability to communicate with the equine species operates even when you're not perched upon their backs."

Antonia continued to stare at him blankly. Reluctantly, Philip released her.

"You—" Antonia blinked wildly. It was an effort to summon not only her voice but the indignation she felt sure she should feel. Breathless, she continued, "Do you mean to say that today was a. . .a test?"

Philip smiled condescendingly. "My dear Antonia, I know of your talents—it seemed rational to test them. Now I know they're sound, there seems little doubt you'll prove a star pupil."

Antonia blinked again—and wished there was some phrase in his speech to which she could take exception. In the end, she drew herself up and fixed him with a direct and openly challenging stare. "I assume, my lord, that when we go out tomorrow, you'll permit me to get above a trot?"

The subtle smile that played about his lips did quite pe­culiar things to her nerves. "I wouldn't suggest you reach for the whip just yet, my dear."

"Well! That seemed a most successful outing." Henrietta turned from the window high above the drive, having watched her stepson and niece until they'd disappeared into the hall below.

"That's as may be." Trant continued to fold linens, lay­ing them neatly on the bed. "But I'd reserve judgement if I was you. Early days yet to read anything into things like simple drives in the countryside."

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Regencies Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net