Read Online A Comfortable Wife by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online

flowing ivory shirt, topped with a shooting jacket, a scarf loosely knotted about his tanned throat. His long thighs were clad in buckskin breeches, his feet in highly polished top-boots. One brow rising in gentle raillery, his hair tousled by the breeze, he looked every inch the well-heeled landowner—and a great deal more dangerous than the average country gentleman.
    Calmly, Antonia lifted her wet fingers and studied them. “Not noticeably, my lord. I suspect your fish are too well fed to be tempted.”
    Philip halted directly before her; Antonia nearly jumped when his fingers slid about her wrist. Lifting her hand, he examined her damp fingers. “Fish, I understand, are not particularly intelligent.”
    His heavy lids lifted; his gaze, sky grey with clouds gathering, met hers.
    Antonia’s heart lurched, her stomach knotted; familiarity didn’t make the sensations any easier to bear. His fingers felt strong and steely, his grip on her wrist warm and firm. Her diaphragm seized; she waited, breathless, trapped by his gaze.
    Philip hesitated, then the ends of his lips lifted lightly. Glancing down, he reached into a pocket and drew out a white handkerchief. And proceeded to wipe each finger dry.
    Her heart pounding, Antonia tried to speak. She had to clear her throat before she could. “Ah—did you wish to speak to me about something?”
    Philip’s smile deepened. She always asked. On principle, he never prepared an answer; inventing one on the spot kept him on his toes. “I wanted to ask if there was anything you needed for the fête. Do you have all you require?”
    Antonia managed to nod. His stroking of her fingers, even with his touch muted by the fine lawn handkerchief, was sending skittering sensations up her arm. “Everything’s under control,” she eventually managed.
    “Really?”
    There was just enough amused scepticism in Philip’s tone to make her stiffen. She lifted her fingers from his slackened grasp and met his gaze. “Indeed. Your staff have thrown themselves into the spirit of the thing—and I must thank you for the services of your steward and baliff. They’ve been most helpful.”
    “I hope they have.” With a gesture, Philip invited her to walk beside him. “I’m sure the entertainments will be a credit to you all.”
    Haughtily, Antonia inclined her head and fell into step beside him. Slowly, they paced beside the narrow pool.
    Philip glanced at her face. “What brings you here? You seem…pensive.”
    Antonia drew in a deep breath and held it. “I was thinking,” she said, tossing back her curls, “of what it would be like when we’re in London.”
    “London?”
    “Hmm.” Looking ahead, she airily explained, “As you know, I’ve not much experience of society. I understand poetry is much in vogue. I’ve heard it’s common practice for ton nish gentlemen to use poetry, or at least, poetic phrases, to compliment ladies.” She slanted an innocent look upwards. “Is that so?”
    Philip’s mind raced. “In some circles.” He glanced down; Antonia’s expression was open, enquiring. “In fact, in certain company it’s de rigueur for the ladies to answer in similar vein.”
    “It is?” Antonia’s surprise was unfeigned.
    “Indeed.” Smoothly, Philip captured her hand and placed it on his sleeve. “Perhaps, as you’ll shortly be joining the throng, we ought to sharpen your rhymes?”
    “Ah—” Her hand trapped beneath his warm palm, Antonia struggled to think. His suggestion was a considerable extrapolation of her plan.
    “Here.” Philip stopped by a wrought-iron seat placed to look over the pool. “Let’s sit and try our wits.”
    Not at all certain just what she had started, Antonia subsided. Philip sat beside her, half-turning, resting one arm along the back of the seat. “Now—where to start?” His gaze roamed her face. “Perhaps we should stick to mere phrases—considering your inexperience?”
    Antonia shifted to face him. “That would