Chapter Two
PHILIP WAS STILL NOTentirely sure as to why exactly he’d told everyone that Miss Compton was his wife.
Not true.
He glanced at her while he turned the page ofPride and Prejudiceand decided her gorgeous blue eyes must be to blame. Either those or her kissable lips. He’d noticed both almost as soon as he’d seen her, for they were the features of a goddess, not of a mortal woman.
Or perhaps it had something to do with the gleaming copper locks he’d glimpsed beneath the brim of her bonnet. He tried to focus on the reading. “‘Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets were particularly intimate.’” Mostly, he decided while the words continued to flow from his mouth, it was because of Mr. Smith’s sudden interest in her. As soon as he’d realized another might swoop in and snatch Miss Compton away, Philip had said the only thing that would force the other man to retreat.
And she hadn’t called his bluff.
Almost. But not quite. Which had to mean that in spite of refusing to accept his help with her valise and proving further disinterest in him by reluctantly giving her name, she must be warming to him. Mustn’t she?
He certainly hoped so, for he had already decided that he rather liked her. Not just because she was stunning to look at or because he enjoyed the spark of irritation that flashed in her eyes each time he provoked her, but because she’d thanked him. Even though there had been no doubt in his mind that she’d rather hit him over the head with her valise, though the reason for this still puzzled him, she’d been polite.
In Philip’s estimation, this said a lot about her character. The way people were treated mattered to her, which was something that mattered to him. Whether or not that would lead to an attachment was unclear. For now, he was simply enjoying the game, the woman presently nestled against his side, the chance she might be enjoying it too, and the absolute certainty that she, unlike his wife, would never hurt him with words.
“Are we almost at the Falcon’s Talon?” Mr. Smith asked, interrupting Philip’s reading with an obnoxious yawn.
“I do not know,” Miss Compton said. She leaned forward to look out the window. “It does appear as though dusk is setting in, so I’m sure we must be there soon.”
“In another quarter of an hour, I suspect,” one of the old women said. “How many times have we stopped since London?’
Philip knew the answer to that. “Six.” Unlike the rest of the group, he hadn’t slept, remaining awake each time the carriage had stopped for a new set of horses. The hostlers had been extremely efficient, taking an average of only three minutes to switch out the team.
“Then I am right,” the older woman said. “We are almost there.”
“Will you be spending the night or continuing on your way?” Mr. Smith inquired.
Instinctively, Philip reached for Miss Compton’s hand, because the question had been inappropriately asked of her. To his relief and pleasure, she allowed the gesture without pulling away. It looked natural. To the rest of the group, there was no reason at all to suspect that they weren’t really married.
“Yes,” she said. “I need a reprieve from the carriage and a proper night’s sleep before setting out again.”
“That is what we always like to do too,” one of the old women said. “The alternative is far too exhausting.”
Philip agreed, but staying overnight at an inn would give him and Miss Compton a bit of a problem. It was one he hadn’t really considered until now. But the option would soon be to tell these people the truth, which was out of the question since Mr. Smith’s interest in Miss Compton had not yet waned completely, or do what a newly married couple was expected to do, and share a room.
For now, he decided to keep silent on the matter and simply focus on helping his ‘wife’ when they arrived at the Falcon’s Talon. He stepped down from the carriage before her and offered his hand so she could alight, assisted her with her luggage, and escorted her inside the inn. When Mr. Smith followed close on their heels, Philip knew there was only one option. He could not admit to the truth and leave Miss Compton without his protection.
“Will you be requiring rooms for the night?” the innkeeper asked when he saw their small group arrive. He looked at each of them in turn before saying, “We’ve only two available.”
“We can easily share,” one of the old women said. She addressed the young girl next. “And you are welcome to stay with us if you don’t mind our age.”
“Not at all. You’re very kind to offer,” the girl replied.
“I can have a bench brought up to the room for her with some cushions for comfort,” the innkeeper said, “but that still leaves three of you without beds.”
“We’re married,” Philip said, quickly cutting off whatever Miss Compton was starting to say. He pulled her closer to his side and became aware of how stiff she now was. Most likely because he was taking charge, but surely she had to know he was only looking out for her best interests.
