WHEN PHILIP CAME DOWNSTAIRS for breakfast the following morning, he was alerted to the sound of women’s laughter coming from the parlor. Pausing, he glanced in the direction of the dining room and decided to forego his meal for a moment in order to investigate.

Crossing the floor, he carefully opened the door so as not to disrupt the amusement of those within. His heart made a funny thud against his chest at the sight of Leonora standing in the middle of the room with a baby in her arms. She was bowing her head over the infant, making the silliest face he’d ever seen and then giggling wildly when the subject of her affection responded with happy chortles.

Warmth expanded inside him, pressing against his ribs until he feared he might risk overheating. This was family, the cozy comfort of home, joy in its simplest form. Everything he’d imagined he’d have with Claire, only to find himself utterly disappointed instead.

He stepped forward slowly, the need to be here, to bask in this moment of intimacy, compelling him to stay. Leonora made another silly face, and the baby waved one arm in the air, grabbing at her nose.

“You are so sweet and pretty,” Leonora cooed. “Just like your mother.” She glanced sideways at Lady Lockwood, who regarded the entire scene with sparkling eyes and dimpling cheeks.

Philip returned his attention to Leonora. In his opinion she was the prettiest girl in the room. In Sheffield...London...England...the world. He gripped the back of a chair, a little unsteadied by the sudden yearning of his heart. No. It was too great a risk. Marriage only led to disaster. But Leonora was different, he’d concluded this already. And yet...he shook his head roughly.

“Mr. Dalton?” Lady Lockwood remarked. “What a pleasant surprise. We did not hear you come in.”

Straightening, he moved further into the room. “I heard you from the hallway and came to wish you both a good morning.” He glanced at Leonora, whose smile remained warm and welcoming even though her eyes had grown wary. “I hope you can forgive the intrusion.”

“But of course.” Lady Lockwood waved him closer. “This is my daughter, Lucy. Would you care to hold her? I daresay my sister would appreciate the reprieve.”

Philip turned to stare at the baby as if it were a cumbersome porcupine he couldn’t imagine holding without dropping. “I have no experience,” he ventured.

“None is needed,” Lady Lockwood assured him. “Is it, Leonora? She held a baby for the very first time herself just a few short minutes ago and look how easy it is for her. Show him, Leonora, so you can come have some tea.”

Philip gulped, which was something he never did. He met Leonora’s gaze and saw that the wariness was gone, replaced by amusement, and just like that, all apprehension faded. The woman was laughing at his discomfort and for some absurd reason, that made him want to prove himself capable. And perhaps tease her a little in the process.

So he cast all worries aside and stepped forward boldly. Leonora’s eyes widened. Ha! She’d clearly imagined his retreat. Instead, he moved in close to her, so close they almost touched. Her breath hitched and her lips parted and by god he wanted to kiss her. But there was a baby between them now, not theirs but somebody else’s. He held up his hands and pried them under the infant’s body, which of course made them slide across Leonora’s arms.

“Help me,” he murmured, chuckling when she blinked as if brought back suddenly from a brief distraction.

She maneuvered Lucy’s head into the crook of his arm and made sure he was holding the baby correctly before backing away. Lucy smiled and waved her tiny fist in the air, and there was nothing Philip could have done at that moment to stop from grinning. She was lovely, warm and snug, with the longest lashes he’d ever seen framing a pair of light blue eyes.

His stomach tightened and reality dawned. He wanted this. For years he’d told himself this was for others, that he didn’t need a wife or children, that the risk was too great. But that was because his dream had been tainted by the wrong woman. So perhaps, just maybe, if he chose the right woman, everything would be different, and he could fill his home with love.

Love.

Yes. That was what he wanted. It was what he’d had as a child even though his parents had struggled to make ends meet. But their home had been happy, supportive, and there for him, even during the hardest times of his life.

Lucy chortled and Philip’s eyes misted as he laughed back, turning away from the women so they wouldn’t see how undone he was. Because of a baby. Because of Leonora. “She’s perfect,” he said, speaking of both.

“That she is,” Lady Lockwood said.

She’d come to stand at his shoulder, and as he glanced up and his eyes met hers, the smile she produced informed him that she knew precisely whom he was talking about. “Allow me,” she said, taking Lucy back in her arms. “Have you breakfasted yet, Mr. Dalton?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Neither has Leonora. Perhaps you’ll be kind enough to keep her company while I return my daughter to the nursery?”

“I’d be delighted to,” Philip said, and since he’d not yet encountered his friend today, he asked, “Do you know if Lockwood has risen yet?”

“Oh yes. He rode out to visit with some of his tenants an hour ago and probably won’t be back until luncheon.”

Philip was impressed. It was only eight o’clock and considering they hadn’t retired until two in the morning, he’d imagined Lockwood would still be in bed. But apparently duty called and that was something Philip respected.

He turned toward Leonora, who’d risen from her position on the sofa, and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

She stepped toward him slowly, hesitantly, as if unsure of the wisdom in keeping him company. But then she straightened her spine and raised her chin, and when she met his gaze again, hers was bold.

“Indeed,” she murmured, accepting the invitation with the same kind of courage he imagined she’d apply if she rode into battle.

Her touch was soft but firm, confident and sure. Heat flared to life at the point of contact, racing up his arm and across his shoulders before diving deep beneath his skin where it settled into a slow burn.

“I will see you both later,” Lady Lockwood said as they parted ways. She disappeared ’round a corner, in the direction of the stairs.

“I trust you slept well?” Philip asked Leonora once they were alone.

Her fingers flexed ever so slightly against his arm, and the burn turned into a blaze. He did his best to concentrate on walking forward in a straight line instead of doing what he really wanted to do, which was push her against the nearest wall and explore her mouth with his own.

“Yes,” she said. “And you?”

What?

Oh right.

“I stayed up late with Lockwood.” They entered the dining room, where a footman stood ready to serve them. “We haven’t seen each other in quite some time, so there was some catching up to do. But I slept well once I retired.”

“How do you know each other anyway?” she asked as he pulled out a chair and helped her sit.

He took the seat across from her, and the footman brought them their drinks: tea for her and coffee for him. “We met at a social event years ago and immediately struck it off.” Toast was served with jam, eggs, bacon, and kippers while they spoke. “He shares my wicked sense of humor.”

She gave her attention to her food, but he could see that her lips were twitching. “The sort that would prompt a gentleman to call a stranger his wife?”

He spooned some jam onto his toast and spread it with his knife. “We once convinced an earl and his wife that I was a Russian prince.”

Laughter erupted inside her and since her mouth was now full of food, she snorted. “Really?” she asked as soon as she could manage to get words out.

“Da. I make very good impression, ya?”

For a second he feared she might choke in response to his affected accent. Tears streamed down her cheeks, which were now round and pinkened by mirth. Her mouth was wide, unrestrained, and the source of the most melodious sound he’d ever heard.

“Heaven above, you really are a mischievous rascal,” she said when she managed to get herself back under some semblance of control.

She wiped away her tears without apology, which only made him like her more. She was real, unpretentious, and just...right. “We’ve had some fun moments together, Lockwood and I, so when he invited me here, I jumped at the opportunity since I have no family of my own.”

“What about your parents?”

A grey veil of sorrow settled over the room. “They’re gone. My father passed five years ago and my mother during the course of last winter.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said, and he knew she meant it for it was written in her expression – concern, sympathy, compassion.

“What about your parents?” he quietly asked and took a few bites of his food.

“I imagine they’re off somewhere in the South Pacific by now. They’ve always wanted to travel but never did because they kept waiting to get both me and my sister settled. But when it became increasingly unlikely that I would ever marry, I encouraged them to go.”

“If I may ask, did you refrain from marrying because of disinterest in the institution itself or because you didn’t meet the sort of man with whom you could see yourself spending the rest of your life?”

She averted her gaze and picked up her teacup. “A bit of both, I suppose.” She took a sip.

Philip reflected on that for a moment. “Is it something you would consider if all the boxes were checked?”

“All the boxes?”

He smiled at her warmly and with the sense that he already knew her better than he’d known anyone else. A moment passed and when he did not answer, she looked at him, her stunning blue eyes meeting his. “I imagine you have several, such as shared interests, the willingness to let you keep running your shop, a desire to help you succeed, among others like tall, dark and handsome.” He waggled his eyebrows and she grinned.

“Why? Are you planning on proposing?”

Not yet, but maybe.

He deliberately looked toward the window. “The sun is out. Perhaps you’d like to go for a walk? Lockwood told me last night that we have to find a Yule log and make some decorations. He and his wife have not had the time, and although I know they were planning to join us, I thought it might be helpful to them if we took care of all that.” When she hesitated he said, “After all, they do have the baby and a host of other responsibilities to attend to, I’m sure.”

“Quite right. I’ll suggest it to Caroline after breakfast just to make sure we’re not overstepping.”

To Philip’s relief, the viscountess was more than happy to let him and Leonora take care of the chore. She even mentioned the baskets of food she’d been hoping to prepare and distribute to the tenants, but hadn’t had time for. When Leonora had asked if she’d like her and Philip to handle that as well, she’d accepted the offer immediately.

Philip smiled as he and Leonora set off on foot. It almost seemed as though the viscountess wanted him to spend as much time with Leonora as possible. Which suited him perfectly, even though he wished they could be more alone with each other. But protocol had to be adhered to even here, far away from Society, so they brought a maid with them as chaperone and a couple of footmen to help load the Yule log onto a cart pulled by one of Lockwood’s horses.

Philip moved a bit closer to Leonora and glanced across at the maid who caught his gaze and instantly slowed her pace, allowing herself to fall behind until she joined the footmen at the rear. “I wish there was more opportunity to walk like this in London, but the air there isn’t the same. It’s not as fresh or as clean.”

“And one does not walk for exercise in a London park,” Leonora said. “One strolls for the purpose of being seen.”

“Do you?” he asked. He couldn’t quite picture her doing so, considering the purpose she presently placed in her strides.

She shook her head. “I haven’t the time for such frivolity, Mr. Dalton.”

He frowned. “Why the sudden formality? You were calling me Philip yesterday morning.”

“That was different.” She glanced at him and he started a little at the wariness in her eyes. “I still believed the ruse was necessary then, but that is no longer the case. It hasn’t been the case for an entire day and now we are here and...we cannot address each other so informally any longer. It isn’t proper.”

“Proper,” he grumbled, cursing the word. She flattened her mouth, and he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with crisp morning air. “We have been nothing but proper toward each other since the moment we met.”

She snorted. “I think most people would disagree.”

“Do you?”

“I...” She quickened her pace, and he lengthened his stride to keep up. “I believe there was opportunity for impropriety and that we both managed to avoid it rather well.”

“Do you regret doing so?” He knew he was being too forward now, but damn it all, he wanted her to go back to calling him Philip, to holding his hand, and to letting herself relax in his arms. Instead of responding, she just walked faster, conveying her agitation. “Would it change anything if I told you I do?”

She stumbled slightly and he caught up with her easily enough. His hand clasped her elbow, steadying her and bringing her upright.

“You should not say such things,” she said with a swift glance directed at the maid and the footmen. All were chatting amicably with each other and paying them no mind at all.

“Not even if it is the truth?” Deliberately, he placed her hand on his forearm so he could escort her. They were almost at the woods now. He could see the wide path they would take between the fir trees.

“What are you saying?” Her voice was whisper soft, as if part of her did not want him to hear her while the other demanded an answer.

He pressed slightly closer to her side, his shoulder snug against hers, just like he wanted. The way her breath caught could mean only one thing – her awareness, her yearning, her desire for something more, was precisely the same as his own. And this bolstered his courage.

So he told her, without any attempt at pretense, “I wish to court you, Leonora.” And then, because he did not want to sound overbearing or leave her without any choice yet again, he hastily added, “If you will permit it.”

Her fingers flexed against his arm, their tips digging in until she was clutching him as if in need of added support. For long moments after, she said nothing at all, and only the sound of occasional birds and the winter breeze rustling the branches kept them company.

They entered the woods, and Philip’s insides started knotting together. He’d been so certain, so sure she felt the same, but perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps he’d misread her completely and—

“I will never be the housewife most men expect a woman to become when they marry,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Of course not.” The tension inside him started to ease. “I already pointed out all the things I believe you would want in a husband. If you’ll recall, the willingness to let you keep running your shop was one of them.”

“So you would support me in my venture?”

“Wholeheartedly.”

She did not look entirely convinced. “My interest in plants is something of an obsession. You’ll have to put up with many discussions on the subject.”

“I see no problem with that as long as you’ll listen with interest when I speak of gentlemen’s hats, boots, pipes, and so on.”

“Of course I would. As my husband, your interests would be important to me.”

“And as my wife, yours would be of equal importance to me.” He leaned his head closer to hers and caught a quick whiff of vanilla and cinnamon. It mingled with the pine from the woods to create an alluring scent of the season. “Does that mean you’ll welcome my suit?”

“This is madness,” she murmured, and when she glanced up, her face so close he could see tiny freckles bridging her nose, her eyes were wide with wonder. “We hardly know one another. You cannot possibly profess to love me.”

“Of course not. Love isn’t something that sparks to life in a second. It takes time to develop, but I like you a lot, the necessary attraction is there, and I am confident that if you give me a chance, I will grow to love you.” He drew her to a halt so they could wait for the servants who were trying to catch up. “But if you don’t feel the same. If for some reason you cannot envision a life with me by your side then—”

“I can. I mean, yes, I...” She stared up at him as if she’d been searching for him her entire life, and his heart swelled in response. “I would welcome your courtship, Philip.” And then she smiled, bright and beautiful, and it was all Philip could do not to kiss her at that very moment.

But since they weren’t alone anymore, and they ought to be picking out a Yule log and pine for decorations instead of making eyes at each other, he accepted the shears being offered to him by one of the footmen, snipped a piece of pine from a nearby tree, and held it toward Leonora.

“To the promise of love and happily ever afters,” he whispered as he handed her the sprig.

She accepted it, her gloved fingers brushing his as she did so. “To a Christmas romance,” she replied. Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth dimpled so adorably, his chest ached with the effort of encompassing his heart, which must have tripled in size these past three days.

Needing her close, he took her by the arm and led her forward. “Come. Let us find what we came for so we can return to the manor for some mulled wine and biscuits.”

#

LEONORA FELT AS IF she’d been swept up in a dream from which she feared she might eventually have to wake up. The handsomest man she’d ever met did not merely like her, but had professed his intention to seek her hand. Except he wasn’t just handsome. He was funny as well. No one else had ever made her laugh as he did. And he was understanding and considerate, as evidenced by the fact that he would not ask her to give up her business if they chose to marry. Instead, he would support her, just as she would support him, and for the first time ever, she would actually have someone more experienced than herself to guide her and offer advice.

He’d already done so in fact, and although she refused to ask her sister for a loan to help pay her rent, she would do as he suggested when it came to the actual products she was selling.

She decided to bring this to Philip’s attention a few days later while they were wrapping red satin ribbons around a garland they’d just finished. “I intend to get rid of all vegetables as soon as I return to London. The shop’s focus going forward will be exclusively on flowers and fruit.”

“I think that’s the right decision.” He knit his brow and bit his lip while doing his best to tie a bow.

“Here. Let me help,” Leonora said when he seemed to struggle longer than necessary.

They were alone in the dining room with all their supplies spread out on a piece of brown canvas in order to protect the table. Leonora wasn’t sure where her sister or her brother-in-law were, but they had become increasingly scarce, which made her suspect a deliberate attempt at matchmaking on their parts. For although she and Philip had said nothing to either of them about their courtship, Leonora knew how observant her sister was and that there was no doubt she was on to the truth.

Leonora rose from her seat and slipped into the chair directly beside Philip. “Perhaps you can assist me with the marketing,” she said as she leaned in closer. That now-familiar scent of him, of sandalwood, leather, and coffee, assailed her senses, and for a second she could scarcely breathe. She reached for the ribbon he held, and her fingers grazed his, causing a jittery sort of unsteadiness right in the pit of her belly.

Intensely aware of his warmth, his nearness, and the way his breath tickled the back of her ear as she bent to complete her task, Leonora struggled to keep from turning, from flinging her arms around him, and possibly climbing straight onto his lap. Because that would not be the least bit proper.

“I’d be happy to,” he said.

Happy to what?

Oh yes.

The marketing.

Her brain felt as if it had gone to sleep. So she finished the bow, which she had to admit looked rather perfect now, and added some appropriate distance in order to regain her ability to form logical thought. “It’s called Compton’s Produce at the moment, but perhaps another name would be better.”

His lips quirked. “I have no doubt that it would.”

She leaned back. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I would not dream of doing so.” He held his hands up as if in surrender.

“And yet you are! You think Compton’s Produce sounds ridiculous.”

“Well, it doesn’t exactly ring of elegance or quality or anything else that might compel wealthy clients to make a purchase.” The lip twitch transformed into a smile – the warm and sympathetic variety that told her he meant no insult by finding amusement in her practical name choice. “How about something along the lines of Compton’s Oasis, or since you may soon take a different name...” His hand found hers, his thumb stroking along her sensitized skin and causing her to shiver. “The Bond Street Oasis or Paradise Fruits and Flowers or, if you fancy a bit of French, Le Jardin Extraordinaire.”

Dear heaven above, the way he said that, with deep and smooth intonations, was almost too heady. Leonora swallowed and deliberately met his gaze from beneath her lashes. He’d not yet kissed her, but the opportunity to do so hadn’t been there either.

She glanced at the open doorway. Perhaps now would be a good time? Perhaps she could kiss him? She leaned closer slowly and saw his eyes darken. Her gaze dropped to his lips, so near now it wouldn’t take more than a second for her to claim them.

“Ah! There you are,” Caroline said as she entered the room.

Leonora jolted backward, causing her chair to rock until she was perilously close to falling from her seat and onto the floor. Philip steadied her with the swiftness of a man whose reflexes were much to be admired. His one hand caught her chair while the other latched onto her wrist, bringing both her and the chair to an upright position.

“Are you all right?” he asked with serious concern. When she nodded, he scowled, and it occurred to Leonora then that he cared more about her than she would have thought. He did not approve of Caroline’s interruption or of the risk it had placed on Leonora’s wellbeing.

She hastened to smile. “No need to worry. I’m perfectly fine.”

His scowl eased into a frown before gradually fading, but his hand remained at her wrist, discreetly behind the back of the chair so Caroline wouldn’t see.

“This garland is incredible,” Caroline said as she came to admire their work. “I cannot wait to see what it looks like once it’s been hung.”

“It’s just the first of five we plan on making,” Leonora told her. “And once they’re all complete, we have in mind some paper cones for sweetmeats and nuts.”

“Will there be mistletoe too?” The mischief in Caroline’s eyes erased all remaining question about her hoping Leonora and Philip would soon form a match.

“We didn’t find any yet, but perhaps we should go and have another look.”

“Oh. Do,” Caroline insisted. “And don’t forget the baskets for the tenants. Cook has produced some preserves that can be added, along with some plum pudding, smoked ham, cheese, and chestnuts.”

“We’ll start working on it as soon we’re done here,” Leonora assured her. And then, just to tease her, she added, “I trust you’ll be helping?”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “Oh...um...I actually have to give Lucy a bath.”

“And then?” Leonora pressed while appreciating the warmth from Philip’s hand where it still circled her wrist.

“Then there is correspondence.”

“What about Lockwood?” Philip asked. “I haven’t seen him at all since dinner last night.”

“Ah...we...” Caroline cleared her throat. “He has been very busy with his ledgers, and once he is done with those, he will most likely want to help me.”

“With your correspondence,” Leonora said, just to be clear.

“Precisely.” Caroline backed away a little. “Great job on all of that.” She waved her hand, stumbled slightly on her way to the door, and turned as soon as she reached it. “I will see you both later.” And then she was gone, hastening away before they could stop her with any more questions.

Leonora laughed. “How transparent can one woman be?”

Philip grinned. “Very, it would seem.” He released her wrist and turned in his seat so he could better face her. “I wonder if you can tell me something honestly.”

Curious as to what he might ask her, she met his serious gaze and said, “I will try.”

He hesitated briefly before asking, “What were you thinking before your sister arrived just now?”

Leonora’s pulse leapt and every nerve in her body started to hum with alertness. He was asking her to make herself vulnerable, to admit to her secret longing for more, to tell him precisely what she wanted. It wasn’t easy, for it would require going against everything she’d been taught to do all her life. It would mean saying something scandalous and being improper.

But if they were to share a future, if trust was to form between them, then she had no choice but admit to the truth.

“About kissing you,” she said, and then, because it seemed suddenly necessary for him to know how strong the urge to do so had been, she added, “I’ve considered it almost repeatedly since that night at the inn.”

“Me too,” he said on an exhalation of breath that caused hot little tingles to scurry across her shoulders. “But I dare not do so here. The chance of interruption is far too great.”

She understood him completely. “Then where?”

His eyes darkened to a wolfish gleam. “If I may suggest, let us finish this garland and the rest of the decorations. Tomorrow we’ll take the baskets to the tenants, and perhaps while we’re out, we’ll find the opportunity we seek.”

#

PHILIP KNEW HE WAS being a bit of a scoundrel, because the truth of the matter was, he could have kissed Leonora a dozen times already if he’d simply elected to pull her into an empty room, shut the door, and take advantage. Except he didn’t want that. He wanted her to want him with the same kind of desperation he’d felt when she’d stood before him at the inn, dressed only in her chemise, though she might as well have been utterly naked.

The things he’d imagined since then – the dastardly thoughts and the wicked desires he’d had no choice but to quench even as they grew increasingly stronger. When she’d looked at him the previous day and her gaze had dropped to his lips, he’d known what was on her mind, but he’d needed to hear her say it, to have her confirm her desire for more than conversation and the occasional touch. And then, when she told him she’d wanted to kiss him for days...

Every muscle inside him had tightened with expectation, only to be disappointed by Lady Lockwood’s interruption. But he supposed there was a benefit to it, namely that of heightening anticipation. It was why he’d not yet tried to kiss Leonora, because he wanted the question about where and when to make her wonder, make her long, make her crave until she was just as close to expiring from need as he was.

They went to deliver the baskets together in the afternoon. The trip required ten stops by carriage, so it took a couple of hours to complete. Unfortunately, when one of the maids offered to assist and Lockwood told Philip that having her there would be wise, he was forced to accept that his kiss with Leonora would once again be delayed.

“I should have agreed to share the bed with you at the inn,” he murmured when they returned to the manor and he helped her alight.

She blushed as she so often did when he spoke to her in private. “Why didn’t you?”

It was a bold question, deserving of a bold answer. “Because I would not have been able to keep my hands off you for one second.” He ushered her inside, heedless of her gasp and the way her steps faltered in response to his scandalous statement. “You should go take a nap before dinner. This afternoon has been rather exhausting.”

“I do not feel especially tired.” She handed her bonnet and gloves to the butler, and as always, Philip stopped for a second to stare at her gorgeous red hair.

He blinked, shook his head and proceeded to pull off his gloves with sharp movements. “Nevertheless.” He gave her a direct look. “The rest will do you good.”

Her lips parted and for a second he thought she would protest again, but then she nodded and turned for the stairs. “Perhaps you are right, Mr. Dalton. I’ll see you again later.”

As soon as she was gone, Philip strode off to the library in order to find a book, any book, in an effort to look as though he did not have roguish intentions on his mind. Leonora needed to get upstairs first before he followed. He had to appear nonchalant, which was getting increasingly difficult, he had to admit.

But when he entered the library, he found Lockwood there with his wife and daughter, the perfect picture of family unity, intimacy, and love. Lucy was cradled in Lockwood’s arms fast asleep against his shoulder, and that image alone made Philip’s heart ache.

Soon, he reminded himself.

“How did it go?” Lady Lockwood asked from her position on the sofa. “Were the tenants pleased with what you brought?”

“Very.” Philip strode further into the room. “They asked Miss Compton and me to give you their thanks.”

“Where is my sister? If she joins us, we could play a game of charades.”

“I believe our excursion has tired her.” Lady Lockwood’s eyes widened with surprise so he quickly told her, “She’s gone upstairs for a nap.”

Lady Lockwood frowned. “I hope she doesn’t feel as though I’ve been neglecting her.”

“Of course not,” Philip assured her. “She understands how busy you’ve been just as well as I understand how occupied Lockwood has been.”

“There has been so much correspondence,” Lady Lockwood said.

Lockwood nodded. “Work never ceases when you’re running an estate.”

Philip just looked at them both without blinking. “Of course,” he said dryly, without the slightest effort at pretending he actually believed them.

“Perhaps we can persuade you to play a game of charades while Lucy naps,” Lockwood suggested.

“Thank you, but I actually came in here to find a book. In London, I rarely have the luxury to simply sit and read, so I thought I’d do so now until dinner.” He went to peruse the shelves, spotted a copy of The Vicar of Wakefield and snatched it up. “This will do. I’ll see you both later.”

He was almost at the door when Lockwood spoke from behind him. “What exactly are your intentions?”

Philip turned. “My intentions?” he asked as if he hadn’t a clue about what his friend might be referring to.

“Regarding Miss Compton.” Lockwood’s stern expression dared him to deny there was anything going on at the risk of facing his censure.

“I’m courting her,” Philip told them both.

Lady Lockwood squealed, which caused Lucy to stir and her husband to shush her. “Sorry,” she whispered, “but I’m just so incredibly happy. We both are. Aren’t we, George?”

Her husband nodded. “We most certainly are.”

Philip glanced at the door. “May I go now?”

“With our blessing,” Lockwood told him sincerely.

Philip clutched the book tighter and turned on his heel. There was kissing to be done, and he had no intention of delaying it any further.