Free The Country House Courtship by Linore Rose Burkard

suite of rooms, was decorated and filled with the latest toys and furniture and engaged for their daily care.
    Nigel crawled upon his father’s lap, a biscuit in one hand.
    Ariana, snuggling a blanket-wrapped Miranda against her shoulder, was grateful for this family time, perhaps as much as her son. Phillip was kept so busy with the estate or visiting his holdings, or engaging in sport such as hunting or shooting with London gentlemen who came to visit, that she enjoyed moments like this immensely.
    In fact she had been amazed, at first, to see how much of his time was spoken for. Especially after having her impressions of him formed in London, where he seemed like a typical upperclassman, with time on his hands. She had not expected to find an involved landlord. Had he been often shooting or hunting to dogs or riding, it would come as no surprise; but he paid attention to the tenants, knew the men in each family by name, even asked about their wives. He oversaw the accounts of the estate to the extent of regularly spending a few hours with his man of business, his steward, and even the housekeeper, each by turn, going over accounts. As if Ariana hadn’t already been starry-eyed about her new husband, this side of him only deepened her admiration.
    The Mornay estate would never fall prey to poor management or disrepair while Phillip was its owner. Unlike the properties of much of the nobility, nay, much of the landed gentry, too, his was neither entailed nor mortgaged. She began to understand why the prince should want him for his government. He was superb with the management of his affairs.
    She took a sip of tea with one hand, while continuing to watch the two males she loved most in the world. Mr. Mornay was breaking a biscuit up and handing pieces to the child, who watched his father with rapt eyes, smiling while he ate. After the child had finished the treat, Mr. Mornay’s eyes met those of his wife. Oh, yes—he wanted to speak with her.
    â€œMrs. Perler,” she said, “take the children to their grandmother and aunt in the drawing room. We will be there shortly.”
    â€œHuzzah!” Nigel shouted. “The drawing room! Will there be more tea and biscuits, Mama?”
    When she and Phillip were alone, she looked at him expectantly. He patted the space on his lap where their son had been only minutes earlier, and with a smile she got up and claimed it. He immediately drew her toward him and kissed her.
    Afterward, he regarded her face, turned up at him. “You are enormously pretty,” he said, making her smile.
    â€œBut you did not arrange tea with me to tell me that,” she returned. “What is it? You have got me so curious!”
    He moved a stray lock of hair from her face, curling it around one of her ears. “We need to discuss Glendover once more. I know that yesterday you thought it might be granted to Mr. O’Brien, and”—he held up a finger to silence her—“I need to be certain you understand that such a hope is impossible.”
    Ariana, studying his eyes, said, “Impossible? Or not to your liking?”
    He chuckled. “In this case, one is equal to the other. If I do not like a man for the living, he does not get it. Surely you could not expect me to actually consider O’Brien.”
    â€œYou once said yourself, Phillip, that if we could improve a man’s life, that was good enough reason to grant him the living.”
    â€œThat was presupposing the man to have met my full approval. I am responsible to the parish to make the best choice of vicar that I am capable of. Mr. O’Brien is not that man.”
    â€œBut what are you basing this conclusion upon? The past, I daresay, for you have spent no time with him alone. You have given him no interview, nor seen him fulfilling his office. Let him preside for us this coming Sunday, here at Glendover, and base your decision upon his actual performance. Nothing from your