A Matchmaking Mismatch (Romance Retold #3)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

A s Philip arrived home from an errand to his tailor, he frowned at the presence of his sister’s carriage being driven from the front of his house toward the stables. Alice delighted in stopping by unannounced. Philip only hoped she had brought the children with her and left her husband behind.

He handed his coat and hat to his butler upon entering, cocking an ear and smiling slightly at the sound of his nieces’ muffled giggling.

“Lady Tipton is in the drawing room, my lord,” the butler said. “Along with the Misses Tipton and their nurse.”

“Thank you, Draper. I suspected as much.” Philip glanced in the mirror and straightened his cravat. “And Sir Jon?”

The butler shook his head, a knowing glint in his eye. He was not overly fond of the man, either. “No, sir. And I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of asking that a small platter of meats and cheeses be prepared for the Tiptons. And a few biscuits for the girls.”

“Very good.”

The butler had a soft spot for the little girls, much like Philip did, and they had come to expect something sweet from him whenever they visited.

Philip strode toward the drawing room and paused before opening the door. The high-pitched voices of his nieces sailed through the small gap between the French doors. He put a hand on both doorknobs and, as quickly as he could, threw the doors open with an “Aha!”

Little shrieks of terror, accompanied by frantic scurrying to hide, morphed quickly into hand-muffled giggles of delight as Philip entered the room. He smiled at the view of two curly heads of hair disappearing behind the sofa. The edge of one dress, betraying the hiding spot, was snatched and concealed by a small, chubby hand.

“Good heavens, Philip,” Alice said with a hand to her chest. “Do you frighten all of your guests to death, or am I simply unlucky?”

Philip dipped to kiss his sister on the cheek then crouched and stepped softly around the side of the sofa.

“I cannot understand why—”

Philip silenced his sister with a finger to his lips and was met with an annoyed sigh. “I could have sworn,” he said loudly, “that there were two little girls here when I entered, but I see no sign of them anywhere.”

More muted giggles came from behind the sofa.

He tiptoed two more steps then swung around to the back, causing another eruption of shrill screams.

Their nurse, Mrs. Morris, smiled benevolently from her position near the windows. But, seeing her mistress’s expression, she stepped forward. “Now, girls, you know your mother can’t abide screaming.”

Alice’s eyes were closed, her fingers pressed to her temples. “Why you must needs encourage such behavior is beyond me, Philip.”

Philip scooped up Mary with one arm and Anne with the other, bending down so that they rested on his knees. “Kisses!” he demanded. “Or I shall tickle you until your guts come out!” They hurriedly wrapped their arms around his neck and pressed their soft little mouths to his cheeks before scrambling out of his arms, away from the threatened tickling.

“Good gracious, Philip,” Alice said. “I am trying to teach the girls how to be proper ladies, and here you insist upon making them screech like monkeys and speaking unseemly words like”—she glanced at the girls, who were being shepherded by Mrs. Morris, and put up a hand to shield her mouth—“ guts .”

Philip chuckled, pouring himself a glass of brandy from the liquor cabinet. “My apologies, Alice, but I have a role to fill, you know.”

“What? Corrupting influence?”

“No.” He sat down on the arm of the chair across from her and took a swallow of his drink. “The fun uncle. Every child needs one.” Mary and Anne especially needed it. They shouldn’t grow up thinking that every man was like their insufferably rigid father. Marrying Sir Jon Tipton may have been strategic for the Trents, but it had not improved Alice. With each passing year, she became more and more like her husband, making Philip wish that his father had not forbade her from marrying the man she had loved, be he ever so plain a mister. Did Alice ever regret complying with their father’s demands?

She smoothed her skirts. “I thought you were going to say the bachelor uncle, and between you and Roger, I think we have that well covered.”

Philip declined to respond to this, merely setting his glass down on the short table in front of him and reaching for a piece of cheese from the platter. Their brother Roger was far too young to be thinking of marriage yet, but he knew that to say so would invite a retort from Alice about Philip not being too young.

Seeming to accept that he didn’t intend to oblige her by responding, Alice proceeded. “Do you ever intend to marry?”

“Of course,” Philip said, sending a mischievous sidelong glance at the girls, who were now seated primly on the settee ten feet away, hands folded in their laps. They both tried to stifle smiles.

“But when ? And to whom? I can tell you that I am quite happy to offer a few suggestions of women to be considered, Philip, for I am a very good judge of character, you know.”

Having eaten two large holes from his piece of cheese, Philip held it up to his eyes, eliciting delighted but muffled laughs from Mary and Anne.

“This is serious , Philip,” Alice said. “You must choose your wife wisely, for not every woman is fit for the role. I was thinking the other day that Victoria Munroe might suit very well.”

Philip held up his hand. “Thank you, Alice. But I do not require your assistance in this matter. I have things well in hand.” He would , at least.

Alice raised her brows, the beginnings of a hopeful smile on her lips. “You have already chosen someone, then? Who is it? I do not mean to doubt you, Philip, but you haven’t Father or Mother to guide you now, and I think I might be a great help if—”

“Miss Devenish,” Philip said, hoping it would silence her.

Alice blinked, staring at him for a moment before speaking. “Miss Devenish…well, yes. I say, Philip, that is a very good choice, and one I hadn’t even considered somehow—perhaps because she is still in mourning. Though, why any woman should mourn her brother’s death for an entire year and more, I cannot understand.”

Philip’s mouth drew into a half-smile, and he crossed his feet at the ankles. “How long precisely should I expect you to mourn my death? A week?”

She attempted to suppress a smile. “Oh, no. I should give you two or three, I imagine, providing you weren’t in my black books.”

“You flatter me, Alice.”

She sent him an arch look. “So, when are we to anticipate the news of your betrothal? Have you spoken to her father?”

Philip was conscious of a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment at his sister’s assumption. “I can hardly court her properly when she is still in mourning, can I?”

Alice tipped her head from side to side. “Not in the strict sense of the word, perhaps. But much can be accomplished through your regular interactions, you know. You can certainly take action to ensure she isn’t snatched up by someone else when she finally does put off those dreadful half-mourning colors. Though, I must say, they complement her beauty nicely.”

“Unfortunately, you are not the only one to take notice of that. She has a dozen men lined up to pay their addresses to her.”

Alice tugged on her glove unconcernedly. “She would be a fool to choose anyone but you.”

Philip wished he could feel so confident on the subject, but he imagined his sister would think differently if she had seen him launching half-chewed lemon tart at Miss Devenish the day before.

He was quite ready to bid Alice farewell an hour later when she led Mrs. Morris and her daughters out onto the street where their carriage awaited. He would have gladly kept his nieces for the afternoon, but he wasn’t fool enough to ask such a thing of his sister. She was particular about whom she allowed to care for her children, and she clearly thought Philip’s influence undesirable.

So, he embraced his nieces in the entry hall of his townhouse, reveling in their sweet scent and wet kisses.

“Will you come visit us at our house soon, Uncle Phil?” Four-year-old Mary looked up at him with her wide, brown eyes.

“You must,” Anne said, sounding much older than six. “For Mama gave us a new tea set, and we should like to have you over one of these afternoons.”

Philip executed a flourishing bow to match Anne’s formal invitation. “I should be honored.”

“We shall be so pleased.” Anne performed a careful curtsy in return then hurried off to the carriage where her mother sat waiting.

Philip sighed and waved a hand as the door to the carriage shut. Would that all women were as easy to please as his nieces.