Antonia’s eyes started to narrow, her lips to compress, and her chin to set—all ominous signs.
“Purely pretense.” Leaning forward, he clasped his hands between his thighs, fixed his eyes on her face, and spoke directly to her. “We would know it was all a sham, but there would be no need to tell anyone else that.” He knew how to get Francesca on his side; it was Antonia he needed to convince.
Antonia regarded Sebastian with exceedingly mixed feelings. He had always had the ability to appear entirely sincere—and for all she knew, he might be sincere. Might genuinely believe he could pretend to be her escort at a house party and not react in his habitually overprotective—dictatorial and absolute—fashion.
Just the thought of enduring five whole days of him looming at her shoulder was enough to make her nerves cinch tight.
And in the informal atmosphere of a country house party where he wouldn’t know anyone else, he might well keep so close that he would rub her nerves—not to mention her senses—raw.
Luckily, he hadn’t yet realized that he’d already won over her mother with his comment about Francesca not attending. The Ennises’ house party was to be Antonia’s first as a spinster—a lady out from under her mother’s wing. Her parents had agreed to the arrangement only because three of her friends were also attending, two, like her, as spinsters, along with the fourth member of their small circle, now the highly respectable the Honorable Mrs. Hadley Featherstonehaugh.
Melissa Wainwright and Claire Savage, Antonia’s unwed friends, were, like her, expecting to enjoy their first foray free of maternal oversight. It wasn’t that any of them expected to engage in any romance but rather the lure of a sort of freedom none of them had ever enjoyed.
For Antonia to then turn up with Sebastian in tow…
She stared at him—nearly glared—and made no effort to hide her dislike of the entire idea. Trust Drake to have thought of it—the man was a menace. “Just how important is this message Lord Ennis has for Drake?”
“Important enough for Drake to not even contemplate putting Ennis off until Drake returns—he’s had to go to Ireland.”
“Ireland?” Francesca glanced at Antonia, then looked back at Sebastian. “Is there any possibility of some new threat from that direction?”
Sebastian debated for a second; Antonia saw that in his face. But then he evenly replied, “The threat from the Young Irelanders never went away. But these days, they concentrate on protests in Ireland, and whatever Ennis wants to convey, it’s all in words—a warning at most, or possibly merely background information. There is no immediate threat involved.” Sebastian met Antonia’s eyes. “Neither Drake nor I would have contemplated involving you if there was.”
While she found that remark comforting on one level, Antonia felt a spurt of irritation at the way gentlemen—noblemen in particular, and she’d always understood the license the rank conferred—invariably shielded women such as her from any possible danger. As if ladies such as she were inherently too weak to stand with them. As if they—the males—were all-powerful, while she and her sisters had nothing to contribute and, more, were something of a liability.
“If there is no danger, why do you need to go at all?” She opened her eyes wide. “Why can’t I approach Ennis and get the message for Drake?” She knew the answer, but wanted to make Sebastian say it.
His lips thinned to a line, but when he spoke, his tone remained even—patiently persuasive. “Because, quite aside from us not knowing what action the message might necessitate—such as riding to Whitehall post haste—Ennis is highly unlikely to entrust his message to a lady, no matter how highly placed and well connected.”
When Sebastian shut his lips and declined to complete the answer, she added, “And it’s possible, even likely, that having a lady sent as go-between instead of a gentleman such as yourself will put Ennis’s back up, and he might decline to share his so-important information at all.”
Sebastian’s fleeting grimace was sign enough that she had that right, too.
Her reaction to what she viewed as a slight was almost intense enough to make her throw caution to the winds and agree to his and Drake’s outrageous scheme—she could and would assist them, possibly in ways they hadn’t dreamt of—but…when it came to acting as escort for a lady like her, she knew Sebastian. Apparently, better than he knew himself. Rapidly, she considered how best to retain control—of herself, at least. “If I agree to this, you need to agree not to actually act as an escort would—that you will not at any time seek to constrain my behavior in any way.” That you will not get in my way.