Chapter 11 #3
“It only took a moment,” he said with a shrug. He looked at Phillip. “It was the bickering, actually. All the best couples do it.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Phillip murmured.
“My wife and I often have similar conversations before she comes around to my way of thinking,” Anthony said affably.
Eloise shot him a peevish expression.
“Of course, my wife might offer a different interpretation,” he added with a shrug. “I allow her to think that I’m coming ’round to her way of thinking.” He turned back to Phillip and smiled. “It’s easier that way.”
Phillip stole a glance at Eloise. She appeared to be working very hard to hold her tongue.
“When did you arrive?” Anthony asked him.
“Just a few minutes ago,” he replied.
“Yes,” Eloise said. “He proposed marriage, I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear.”
Phillip coughed with surprise at her sudden announcement. “I beg your pardon?”
Eloise turned to Anthony. “He said, ‘We’ll have to marry.’ “
“Well, he’s right,” Anthony replied, settling a level stare directly on her face. “You do have to marry. And my compliments to him for not beating around the bush about it. I’d think you of all people would appreciate direct conversation.”
“Scone, anyone?” Colin asked. “No? More for me, then.”
Anthony turned to Phillip and said, “She’s just a bit irritated because she hates being ordered about. She’ll be fine in a few days.”
“I’m fine right now,” Eloise ground out.
“Yes,” Anthony murmured, “you look fine.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Eloise asked. Through her teeth.
“An interesting question,” her brother replied.
“One might say that I ought to be in London, with my wife and children. In fact, if I did have somewhere else to be, I imagine that would be it. But strangely enough, I seem to be here. In Wiltshire. Where, when I woke in my comfortable bed in London three days ago, I would never have guessed I would be.” He smiled blandly. “Any other questions?”
She was quiet at that.
Anthony handed an envelope to Eloise. “This arrived for you.”
She looked down, and Phillip could see that she instantly recognized the handwriting.
“It’s from Mother,” Anthony said, even though it was clear she already knew that.
“Do you want to read it?” Phillip asked.
She shook her head. “Not now.”
Which meant, he realized, not in front of her brothers.
And then suddenly he knew what he had to do.
“Lord Bridgerton,” he said to Anthony, standing up, “might I request a moment alone with your sister?”
“You just had a moment alone with her,” Colin said between bites of bacon.
Phillip ignored him. “My lord?”
“Of course,” Anthony said, “if she’s agreeable.”
Phillip grabbed Eloise’s hand and yanked her to her feet. “She’s agreeable,” he said.
“Mmmm,” Colin remarked. “She looks very agreeable.”
Phillip decided then and there that all the Bridgertons ought to be fitted with muzzles. “Come with me,” he said to Eloise, before she had a chance to argue.
Which of course she would, since she was Eloise, and she would never smile politely and follow when an argument was a possibility.
“Where are we going?” she gasped, once he had pulled her away from her family and was striding across the lawn, unmindful of how she had to run to keep up.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
He stopped so quickly that she crashed into him. It was rather nice, actually. He could feel every last bit of her, from her breasts to her thighs, although she recovered all too quickly and stepped away before he could savor the moment.
“I’ve never been here before,” he said, explaining it to her as if she were a small child. “I’d have to be a bloody clairvoyant to know where I’m going.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well then, lead the way.”
He pulled her back to the house, making his way to a side door. “Where does this go?” he asked.
“Inside,” she replied.
He gave her a sarcastic look.
“Through Sophie’s writing room to the hall,” Eloise expounded.
“Is Sophie in her writing room?”
“I doubt it. Didn’t she go to fetch you lemonade?”
“Good.” He pulled the door open, muttering a quick thanks that it was unlocked, and poked his head inside.
The room was empty, but the door to the hall was open, so he strode across and pulled it shut.
When he turned back around, Eloise was still standing in the open doorway to the outside, watching him with a blend of curiosity and amusement.
“Shut the door,” he ordered.
Her brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”
“Shut it.” It wasn’t a tone of voice he used often, but after a year of floating along, of feeling lost amid the currents of his life, he was finally taking control.
And he knew exactly what he wanted.
“Shut the door, Eloise,” he said in a low voice, moving slowly across the room toward her.
Her eyes widened. “Phillip?” she whispered. “I—”
“Don’t talk,” he said. “Just shut the door.”
But she was frozen in place, staring at him as if she didn’t know him. Which, in truth, she didn’t. Hell, he wasn’t so sure he knew himself any longer.
“Phillip, you—”
He reached behind her and shut the door for her, turning the lock with a loud and ominous click.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“You were worried,” he said, “that we might not suit.”
Her lips parted.
He stepped forward. “I think it’s time I showed you that we do.”