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came down full-length in the snow. With a cheer-fid bark, Rex scampered over the snow and, hip-hop, into the carriage.
    Rising up on his hands, spitting to clear his mouth, he glared across to where Miss Twainsbury choked, her gloved hand tight over her enchanting mouth.
    Philip tried to look angry but couldn’t resist the smile that took over his control. “Funny, is it?” he demanded. With deliberate speed, he stood up, bringing with him a double handful of snow which, while holding her gaze, he compacted into a ball.
    “Sir Philip,” she said warningly. She reached to one side, still keeping her watchful gaze fixed on his, and scooped some snow off the fender.
    For an extended moment, they stood, weapons at the ready. Even Merridew made no comment. Then, recollecting that this young woman was a stranger and gently born, Philip let his snowball drop, where it instantly blended into that already fallen. Her eyes still twinkling, Miss Twainsbury did the same. ‘You are right, sir. It isn’t really the time for frolicking.”
    “I shall challenge you again, by and by.”
    “I shall accept,” she said with a proud tilt of her chin. Her head still up, she entered the carriage without another word.
    Philip stood by, his hand on the door until she was seated. “Merridew, drive with extra care.”
    “You don’t have to tell me that,” came the grumbling answer.
    “No, I don’t, do I? After we reach the Manor, you’ll have to go bring Dr. March.”
    “Aye-aye, sir,” Merridew said without further complaint.
    The lurch as the carriage set off was hardly perceptible, yet Nanny Mallow groaned. “Was it wise to move her?” Miss Twainsbury asked. “Wouldn’t it have been wiser to bring the doctor to her home?”
    “She couldn’t stay there alone in any case,” Philip said.
    “I would have stayed with her.”
    “Are you experienced as a sick nurse? You would have to do everything for her, and you are not strong enough to lift her. There are many unpleasant details associated with the sickroom that a young lady cannot be expected to—”
    “I have nursed my mother through a bad bout of grippe,” she answered as though applying for a position. “Believe me, Sir Philip, no one could be a more demanding patient than Mother. Who will care for Nanny Mallow at the Manor?”
    “Mavis’s mother is an accomplished nurse,” he said.
    Mr. Perriflyn brightened. “Mrs. Duke? An excellent choice.”
    “She has helped my sister-in-law through all four of her confinements.”
    “Four? Then, those children I saw today are your nieces and nephews?”
    “Only nieces,” Philip said, hoping his rue wasn’t too apparent. Mr. Perriflyn was a notorious gossip. Half his patients called him in only to hear the details of every other one’s life. “Else there would be some other baronet installed at the Manor, even if only a very young one.”
    “Oh, of course,” she said. “How stupid of me.”
    “How could you know?” he asked reasonably. She didn’t pursue the conversation. Someone must have told her once to be seen and not heard and she’d taken the censure to heart. Or perhaps she noticed how Mr. Perriflyn’s gaze flickered between them in fascination. Any innocent word or gesture could be twisted into something greater than a first meeting’s delicate give-and-take. He didn’t even know her given name.
    Nanny Mallow raised her head from where it rested on Mr. Perriflyn’s buckram-padded shoulder. “How long does it take to reach the Manor, anyway? I could have walked it by now, bad leg and all”
    “It has taken rather longer than I expected,” Philip said.
    After suggesting that the others bundle up as warmly as possible, Philip lowered the top panel of the window. “Merridew?” he shouted up at the driver. “Is there a problem?”
    “None, sir, but that a tree fell ‘cross the road. I’m going by Shallcross.”
    ‘Very good. Carry on.”
    He closed the window and turned to the women. “The snow