Scanning the room, his gaze passed over a stunningly pretty girl strolling forward on the arm of a pasty-faced youth. Failing to discover any likely candidate for Antonia's attention he was rescanning their surroundings when Antonia broke off her conversation. "Ah-here's Miss Dalling."

Miss Dalling and her companion were well known to the other gentlemen; introduced, Philip exchanged greetings. He did not need Antonia's swift glance to realize it was Miss Dalling and the Marquess for whom she'd been waiting. Her reasons, however, remained a mystery.

Miss Dalling turned wide lavender-blue eyes upon the assembled company. "All these old things are quite fascinating, are they not?"

While Catriona chattered animatedly, Antonia, somewhat distractedly, considered her court. When she had planned this excursion, she had imagined strolling quietly about the displays on Geoffrey's arm while Catriona with Ambrose in attendance composed her missive. But no sooner had she set foot in the museum than gentlemen had appeared as if sprouting from the woodwork, all intent on passing the time by her side. Luckily, Mr Broadside and Sir Eric Malley had had previous engagements which had forced them to leave; that still left her with five unexpected cavaliers to dismiss.

She had not the first idea how to accomplish the deed.

"Perhaps," she said, smiling meaningfully at Catriona, "we should stroll about the rooms?"

"Oh, yes! I expect I should take particular note of some of the displays." Eyes twinkling, Catriona took Ambrose's arm. Antonia surmised the summons to Henry Fortescue had been successfully inscribed and handed into Ambrose's care.

Her hand on Philip's sleeve, Antonia smiled upon her court. "Gentlemen, I thank you for your company. Perchance we'll meet tonight?"

"Yes, indeed-but no need to break up the party." Sir Frederick gestured expansively.

"No-indeed no," came from Mr Dashwood. "Haven't actually looked at anything in the museum for years-only too pleased to take a squint around."

"I'll come too-just in case you need some information on the artifacts." Mr Carruthers nodded benignly.

Antonia's answering smile was weak. When they strolled from the room, all five gentlemen ambled in their wake. As they wended their way between the display cases, she bit her lip-then slanted a glance up at Philip. He met it with an expression she was coming to know well-pure cynicism combined with insufferable male superiority. He arched a distinctly supercilious brow at her. Antonia narrowed her eyes at him, then, head high, shifted her gaze forward.

Philip hid his smile. He saw Geoffrey and shot him a glance sharp enough to bring him to heel. When they reached the centre of the main room, he halted and pulled out his watch. Consulting it, he grimaced. "I'm afraid, my dear, that we've run out of time. If you want your surprise, we'll have to leave now."

Antonia stared at him, her lips forming a silent "Oh".

"Surprise?" Geoffrey asked.

"The surprise I promised you all," Philip glibly replied. "Remember?"

Geoffrey met his gaze. "Oh! That surprise."

"Indeed." Smoothly taming to Antonia's trailing court, Philip raised a languid brow. "I'm afraid, gentlemen, that you'll have to excuse us."

"Oh-yes. Naturally!"

"Until next time, Miss Mannering. Miss Dalling."

To Antonia's inward disgust, amid a host of similar phrases, her five encumbrances obediently took themselves off. As the last bowed and withdrew, she glanced up at Philip, only to see his jaw firm.

"I suggest we get moving immediately." Before any of them could question his intent, he had them all outside, Catriona and Ambrose included. A hackney was waiting at the kerb; Philip hailed it and bundled Catriona, Ambrose and Geoffrey aboard. Shutting the door on them, he slapped the side. "Gunters."

The jarvey nodded and clicked his reins. The old coach lumbered away.

Left standing on the pavement, distinctly bemused, Antonia stared at Philip. “What about us?''

Exasperated, he looked down at her. "Do we have to follow?"

Antonia stiffened. "Yes!"

Philip narrowed his eyes at her but she refused to retreat. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, he called up another hackney.

"Now," he said, the instant the hackney's door shut upon them. "You can explain what Miss Dalling and the Marquess are about."

Antonia was perfectly willing to do so; by the time the hackney drew up outside Gunters, Philip was considering retreating himself. Unfortunately, the sight that met his eyes as he glanced out of the hackney window rendered that course of action impossible.

"Good God!" he said, sitting forward and reaching for the handle. "The silly clunches are standing outside."

Predictably, Catriona Dalling had started to attract an audience. Gritting his teeth, Philip handed Antonia down, then deftly extricated Miss Dalling and, feeling very like a sheepdog with his sheep, ushered his little group into the shop.

It was hardly a venue at which he was well known. Nevertheless, the waitress took one look at him and immediately found a discreet booth big enough to accommodate the whole party. By the time he sank onto the bench beside Antonia, Philip found he was actually looking forward to an ice.

The waitress took their orders; the ices arrived before they had well caught their breaths. Catriona, Ambrose and Geoffrey attacked theirs in style; Philip and Antonia were rather more circumspect.

Catriona finished first and patted her lips with her napkin. "Ambrose will post my letter tomorrow," she informed the table at large. "I know Henry will come post-haste to the rescue-just like the true knight he is." She clasped her napkin to her bosom and affected a romantically distant gaze. Then she sighed. "He'll know exactly what to do for the best. Everything will be right as a trivet once he arrives."

When she and Ambrose fell to discussing their respective guardians' likely plans, Philip caught Antonia's eye. "I can only hope," he murmured, "that Mr Fortescue is up to handling Miss Dalling's dramatic flights. Don't ever think I'm not grateful for your lack of histrionic tendencies."

Antonia blinked, then smiled and looked down at her ice. As she took another mouthful, her smile grew. She had wondered if Philip would prove at all susceptible to Catriona's undeniable beauty. Apparently not. His comment, indeed, suggested quite otherwise; she couldn't help feeling pleased.

Watching her, Philip narrowed his eyes, astute enough to guess what lay behind her smug smile. He attacked his ice, inwardly humphing at the implied slight to his taste. To any with experience, certainly any of his ilk, Miss Dalling's mere prettiness could not hold a candle to Antonia's mature beauty. The heiress might be a handful in her own way but she was very definitely not the same sort of handful his bride-to-be obviously was. He glanced at Antonia, then, all but automatically, scanned the room.

Four gentlemen rapidly averted their eyes. Philip's expression hardened. At the museum, all five gentlemen had had Antonia in their sights, a fact that had not escaped him.

Shifting in his seat, Philip let his gaze rest on her face.

She felt it; turning, she briefly studied his eyes, then lifted a brow. "I think perhaps it's time we left. We have Lady Griswald's musical soiree this evening."

As they left the shop, Philip found himself wondering who would be at Lady Griswald's tonight. Antonia shook his arm.

"Catriona and Ambrose are leaving."

Philip duly took his leave of the pair, who intended visiting Hatchard's before returning to Ticehurst House. With Antonia on his arm and Geoffrey ambling behind, Philip headed in the opposite direction. Absorbed with thoroughly unwelcome considerations, he stared, unseeing, straight ahead.

Antonia cast a puzzled glance up at him. She opened her lips to comment on his brown study, simultaneously following his gaze. Her words froze on her lips.

Ten yards ahead stood two ladies, both exquisitely gowned and coiffed. Both were ogling Philip shamelessly.

She might have been raised in Yorkshire but Antonia knew immediately exactly what sort of ladies the two were. She stiffened; her eyes flashed. She was about to bestow a chillingly haughty glance when she caught herself up-and glanced at Philip.

In the same instant, Philip refocused and saw the two Cyprians. Absentminded still, he idly took stock of their wares, then felt Antonia's gaze. He glanced down at her, just in time to see her lids veil her eyes. She stiffened and pointedly looked away, every line infused with haughty condemnation.

Philip opened his mouth-eyes narrowing, he bit back his words. He had, he reminded himself, no need to excuse himself over something she should not, by rights, even have noticed. He halted. "We'll take a cab."

He hailed a passing hackney. The three of them climbed in; Antonia sat beside him, cloaked in chilly dignity. Philip stared out of the window, his lips a thin line. He had had to put up with her being ogled all afternoon, let alone what might happen tonight. She had no right to take umbrage just because two ladybirds had cast their eyes his way.

By the time the hackney turned into Grosvenor Square, he had, somewhat grudgingly, calmed. Her sensitivity might irritate but her intelligence was, to him, one of her attractions. It was, he supposed, unreasonable to expect her to be ignorant on specific topics-such as his past history or potential inclinations.

The hackney pulled up; he let Geoffrey jump down, then descended leisurely and helped Antonia to the pavement, affecting indifference when she refused to meet his eyes. He tossed a half-crown to the jarvey then, studiously urbane, escorted her in, pausing in the hall to hand his cane to Carring.