She was feeling optimistic as she stepped down from the carriage; the previous day had gone far better than she could ever have hoped. Even if Phillip hadn’t taken her into Sophie’s office to prove to her that they “would suit” (Eloise could now think of those words only as if they were in quotations), the day would have been a success. Phillip had more than held his own against the collective force of the Bridgerton brothers, which had left her feeling quite pleased and more than a little proud.
Funny how it hadn’t occurred to her until then that she could never marry a man who couldn’t square off with each and any of her brothers and emerge unscathed.
And in Phillip’s case, he’d taken on all four at once. Most impressive.
Eloise still had reservations about the marriage, of course. How could she not? She and Phillip had developed a sense of mutual respect and hopefully even affection, but they were not in love, and Eloise had no way of knowing if they ever would be.
Still, she was convinced that she was doing the right thing by marrying him. She had little choice in the matter, of course; it was either marry Phillip or face complete ruin and a life alone. But even so, she thought he would make a fine husband. He was honest and honorable, and if he was at times too quiet, at least he seemed to have a sense of humor, which Eloise felt was essential for any prospective spouse.
And when he kissed her ...
Well, it was quite obvious that he knew exactly how to turn her knees to butter.
And the rest of her as well.
Eloise was, of course, a pragmatic. She always had been, and she knew that passion was not enough to sustain a marriage.
But, she thought with a wicked smile, surely it couldn’t hurt.
Phillip checked the clock on the mantel for about the fifteenth time in as many minutes. The Bridgertons were due to arrive at half noon, and it was already thirty-five past the hour. Not that five minutes was anything to worry about when one had to travel over country roads, but still, it was deuced hard to keep Oliver and Amanda neat and tidy and, above all, well behaved as they waited with him in the drawing room.
“I hate this jacket,” Oliver said, tugging on his little coat.
“It’s too small,” Amanda told him.
“Iknow,” he replied, with clear disdain. “If it weren’t too small, I wouldn’t have complained.”
Phillip rather thought he’d have found something else to complain about, but there seemed little reason to express this opinion.
“And anyway,” Oliver continued, “your dress is too small, too. I can see your ankles.”
“You’re supposed to be able to see my ankles,” Amanda said, frowning down at her lower legs.
“Not so much of them.”
She looked down again, this time with an expression of alarm.
“You’re only eight years old,” Phillip said in a weary voice. “The dress is perfectly suitable.” Or at least he hoped it was, little that he knew of such things.
Eloise,he thought, her name echoing through his head like the answer to his prayers. Eloise would know these things. She would know if a child’s dress was too short and when a girl should start wearing her hair up and even whether a boy should attend Eton or Harrow.
Eloise would know all these things.
Thank God.
“I think they’re late,” Oliver announced.
“They’re not late,” Phillip said automatically.
“I think theyarelate,” Oliver said. “I can read the clock now, you know.”
Phillip didn’t know, which depressed him. It was rather like the swimming thing. Too much like it, really.
Eloise,he reminded himself. Whatever his failings as a father, he was making up for all of that by marrying the perfect mother for them. He was, for the first time since their birth, doing the exact right thing for his children, and the sense of relief was almost overwhelming.
Eloise. She couldn’t get here soon enough.
Hell, he couldn’t marry her soon enough. How did one procure a special license, anyway? It hadn’t been the sort of thing he’d ever thought he’d need to know, but the last thing he wanted to do was wait several weeks to have banns read.
