Both coachmen froze-they exchanged sideways glances, then the heavier of the two swung about, huge fists rising. He never saw the clip that caught him on the jaw and laid him out upon the rug. The second coachman came in, arms flailing. Philip ducked, caught his assailant with hip and shoulder and threw him across the room. He landed with a resounding thud against one wall, then slid slowly down to slump on the floor.

Philip waited, but neither villain was in any condition for further argument.

"Great heavens! I never knew you boxed."

Straightening, automatically resettling his coat, Philip glanced over his shoulder; Antonia stood a mere foot behind him, a heavy candlestick in one upraised hand. Lips compressed, he reached out and took the candlestick. "I told you to stay put."

She met his gaze openly. "If you'd told me you boxed, I would have."

"My boxing prowess had not previously figured in my mind as an inducement to wifely obedience," Philip heard himself say-he had to fight an urge to close his eyes and groan.

Catriona arrived to fling herself into Antonia's arms; in the same instant, a furious pounding came on the door.

"Open up in there! This is a respectable inn, I'll have you know."

"The landlord," Geoffrey somewhat unnecessarily remarked.

Philip directed a feeling look at the ceiling. "Why me?" He didn't wait for an answer but strode to the door, indicating with one long finger that Geoffrey and Henry should pick up one comatose coachman.

As they struggled to lift their burden, Philip opened the door. "Good evening. I'm Ruthven. You, I take it, are the landlord?"

With glowing approval, Antonia listened as Philip glibly explained how his wards, never specified, and their friends had decided to return to town rather than remain at a nearby houseparty and had, for reasons he did not deign to clarify, decided to meet with the coachmen they had hired at the inn, rather than at the residence they had visited, only to be grossly deceived in the character of their hired help.

Under Philip's artful direction, the innkeeper professed all sympathy, agreeing, as they all did, that it was exceedingly fortunate that, responding to the note his wards had sent him, Philip had arrived in the nick of time to rout the villains.

By this time, the villains had been hauled out of the inn and left groaning in the ditch. Catriona, truly rattled, had been soothed.

Having arranged to hire the inn's own coach and the services of a groom and coachman, both of whom needed to be roused from their slumbers at a nearby farm, Philip repaired to the inn's parlour, where, at his suggestion, his party now waited. Shutting the door firmly on the reassured innkeeper, he swept the gathering with a jaundiced eye. “Would one of you care to explain precisely what is going on?"

As intrigued as he, Antonia glanced at the younger members of the party.

Catriona's expression instantly turned mulish. Ambrose squirmed, looking even more gormless than usual. Henry Fortescue reddened, then cleared his throat.

Geoffrey spoke first. "It's straightforward enough-or at least, our plan was. Catriona's sure Lady Copely will take her in and support her in marrying Henry."

"I remembered that Aunt Copely came to visit," Catriona put in. "Quite early on, just after I'd joined Aunt Ticehurst's household. I was banished to my room throughout but I overheard the maids saying that there'd been the most awful row. Aunt Copely must have wanted to see me-if I'd known Aunt Ticehurst didn't have any legal right to insist I stay with her, I'd have gone to Aunt Copely long ago."

"Given that," Geoffrey continued, "there didn't seem much point in going to inform Lady Copely then returning to Ticehurst Place to rescue Catriona, particularly if the gorgon was going to keep on trying to marry her to Ambrose."

"We decided that if we four all went up to town together, there'd be no question of impropriety," Henry explained. He glanced at Ambrose. "Hammersley did not wish to remain at Ticehurst Place-particularly not after their ladyships discover Catriona's disappearance. He volunteered to hire the coachmen-unfortunately, they turned out to be less than honest."

Ambrose grimaced. "Didn't want to go to any of the local places-they might have got back to Lady Ticehurst. Found a hedge-tavern-those two were the best I could find."

Philip raised a long-suffering brow.

"Never mind-as it fell out, there was no real harm done." Antonia smiled reassuringly. "Thanks to Ruthven," she added as Philip turned his gaze on her.

"Indeed, my dear-but I have yet to hear your reasons for mounting such a dangerous pursuit."

The comment focused all eyes on Antonia; realizing that none other than Philip knew she had taken his horses and phaeton, she kept her expression serenely assured. "I caught sight of Geoffrey and Catriona leaving in the gig. Naturally, not knowing their plan, I hurried after them."

Philip pondered that "naturally". "You didn't, perchance, consider informing me?"

His tone was mild, perfectly polite; Antonia sensed the steel behind it. "I did consider the matter," she felt forced to admit. "But by the time the thought occurred, the gig was too far ahead to risk further dallying."

"I see." Philip's gaze, narrowing, remained locked on hers.

"I remembered the bible."

Catriona's comment distracted them both. They turned to see her hefting a brown paper-wrapped package from the table. "It was Papa's; if it contains the proof of Aunt Copley's right to act as my guardian, I thought I should keep it by me."

Philip nodded approvingly. "A wise move." He hesitated, then grimaced. "Very well-we'll continue with your plan. I agree that if all four of you travel together, there'll be no hint of impropriety. And I can sympathise with Hammersley not wanting to be about when the Countess and his mother discover their applecart has been ditched. Apropos of which, might I ask how you were proposing to convey that news?"

Four blank faces stared at him.

"We hadn't imagined informing them specifically," Geoffrey finally said. He caught Philip's eye. "We thought you'd be there-and you'd guess what was up if we all went missing."

For a long moment, Philip held Geoffrey's gaze, his own distinctly jaundiced, then his expression turned resigned. "Very well-I suppose I can settle that matter, too."

The relief in the parlour was palpable.

Twenty minutes later, Philip watched the four young people climb into the inn's carriage. Geoffrey was the last.

"Here's a note for Carring." Philip handed over a folded missive. "He'll pay the carriage off and see you to the coaching station. Write once you've settled in-we'll be at the Manor."

"Oh?" Waving a last farewell to Antonia, standing back in the inn porch, Geoffrey looked again at Philip, a question in his eyes.

Philip raised a languid brow. "And, given you're the senior male in the Mannering line, I suspect you'd better hold yourself ready to make a dash down-just for a day or two, considering how much of the term you've already missed. I'll send up to the Master."

Geoffrey's grin broke into a huge smile. "Thought so." He clapped Philip on the shoulder, then mounted the steps. Philip shut the carriage door; Geoffrey leaned out of the window to add, insouciantly irreverent to the end, "Don't let her get her hands on your reins."

"Not bloody likely," was Philip's terse reply.

The carriage rumbled out of the yard. Philip turned and strode back to the inn. The innkeeper was waiting just behind Antonia, his keys in his hand.

Taking Antonia's elbow, Philip guided her into the inn.

"You may lock up, Fellwell. Her ladyship and I can find our way up."

Antonia's eyes flew wide; Fellwell, yawning as he bowed, did not notice. Steered inexorably up the stairs, she heard the heavy inn door close, heard the bolts shoot home. Her heart started to pound. By the time they reached the door to the inn's main guest chamber, she felt quite giddy.

Opening the door, Philip guided her through, then followed, shutting the door behind him. His face was all hard angles and planes; no hint of his social mask remained.

"Ah…does Mr Fellwell believe we're married?"

"I sincerely hope so." Shifting his grip to her hand, Philip strolled forward, surveying the room. "I told him you were Lady Ruthven." Satisfied with their accommodation, he stopped before the fireplace, turning to meet Antonia's wide gaze. "I couldn't think of any other way to acceptably explain your presence here-alone-with me." He cocked a brow at her. "Can you?"

Antonia was sure she couldn't; breathless, she shook her head.

"If we're agreed on that," Philip said, shifting to stand directly before her, "before anything else can happen to distract us, I suggest that I give you my responses to your stipulations on your future husband's behaviour."

Releasing her hand, he raised both of his to frame her face, tilting it up until her eyes locked with his. "Lastly but by no means least, you required that the man you married should not seek to be private with any other lady." He raised a brow. "Why would I wish to be alone with another, if I could, instead, have you by my side?''

Eyes wide, Antonia searched his grey gaze; it was calm, clear, unclouded, as incisive as tempered steel.

"And as for not waltzing with any other lady-if you were there to waltz with me, why would I wish to dance with another?"

Inwardly, Antonia frowned.

"And as for mistresses-" Philip raised a suggestive brow. “If I had you to warm my bed, to satisfy my needs, would I want-or, indeed, have time for-a mistress?''

Disregarding the blush that warmed her cheeks, Antonia raised a brow back. "Your responses are questions, not answers."

Philip's lips twisted. "Imponderable questions, my love. For which the answers lie, all encompassed, in my response to your first criterion."

Antonia felt his strength reach for her, even though his hands remained about her face. His head lowered slightly, his lips hovering tantalisingly above hers. Lifting her gaze from them, she studied his eyes, watched as desire slowly pushed aside the curtain of steel, darkening his gaze. Her "My first criterion?" came on a breathless whisper.

Philip smiled; the gesture did not soften his expression. "I hoped you would know without needing to be told." His eyes held hers; his chest swelled as he drew in a steadying breath. "God-and half the ton- know I love you." He searched her eyes, then added, his voice deepening, "Unreservedly, without restraint, far more completely, deeply, madly than I suspect is at all wise."

Antonia stared back at him, the words ringing in her ears, in her head, in her heart. Her welling joy showed in her eyes; Philip bent his head and kissed her, the caress direct and deeply intimate.

When he raised his head, she had to fight for breath. "Wise?"

She watched the steel flow back into his eyes, clashing with turbulent desire. He raised one brow slowly, his jaw firming ominously.

"Indeed." His tones were suddenly clipped. "Which brings us to your escapade tonight." His hands fell from Antonia's face, only to slip about her waist.

She blinked. "That was Geoffrey's and Catriona's escapade, not mine."

Philip's eyes narrowed. "No more Mannering logic- I've heard quite enough for one night."

A log crashed in the grate, sending up a shower of sparks; with a muttered curse, Philip reluctantly released Antonia and bent to resettle the logs. Antonia glided a few steps away, out of his immediate reach. He straightened and set aside the firetongs; his eyes narrowed when he saw where she was. "I was referring to your appropriation of my phaeton."

Antonia took due note of the glint in his eye. "You did offer to let me drive it." An armchair stood conveniently before the hearth; she drifted around it.

“I offered to let you take the reins in town, on a Macadamised surface, with me on the box-seat beside you-not on a deserted country lane in the dead of night with the road obscured by shadows!" Philip stalked after her; catching her wide gaze, he transfixed her with a distinctly strait look. "See what I mean about wise?" He made the comment through set teeth. "This is what loving you does to me. I used to be calm, collected, the embodiment of gentlemanly savoir-faire, unruffled, unflappable-always in control!"

With one shove, he sent the chair sliding from between them. Eyes flaring wide, Antonia took a step back-Philip caught her by the elbows and pulled her hard against him. "This is what loving you does to me."