The duke wins a bride, p.6
The Duke Wins a Bride, page 6
Making her way to the majestic bed, she grasped the chemise and tugged it on before slipping under the woven counterpane into the cool sheets. Even with the draperies drawn, nothing could keep her awake as her weighted lids sealed shut. As she submitted to sleep, Annabel’s thoughts wandered back to their conversation earlier that day. Why had the Duke of Halmesbury not spoken to the Earl of Saunton in three years?
As Philip buttoned his small clothes, he was pleasantly bemused by the startling shift of paths he had undertaken earlier that day. Jones handed him his black trousers, but he declined to take them.
“Jones, I think I need something a little less formal, as Miss Ridley does not have proper evening attire for dinner, and I would hate to embarrass her.”
“Of course, Your Grace. Might I suggest day wear to match the lady?”
Philip nodded. Jones soon returned with ivory trousers, a navy tailcoat, and a poplin waistcoat.
He soon had the trousers in place, and eased his arms into the waistcoat so that the valet could tighten it from behind to an exact fit. Philip raised his chin as Jones intricately knotted his cravat to drape his throat. He usually took advantage of his time at Avonmead to avoid stiff, formal cravats, but he felt the need to dress up for his supper with Annabel, having experienced a buildup of anticipation throughout the afternoon at the evening ahead in her company.
“Will Miss Ridley be staying beyond tonight, Your Grace?” The valet was clearly struggling to suppress his curiosity.
“Miss Ridley will leave in the morning, but I hope she will return by the end of the week. As my bride.” The valet’s hands stilled before he overcame his surprise and resumed tying the cravat.
“Congratulations, Your Grace. Just this morning you were speaking of attending the marriage mart, but here we are tonight with a new duchess at hand.” Jones stated it as a fact, but Philip knew he was really asking him a question as politely as he could.
“Indeed, Jones. I was most surprised by Miss Ridley’s visit this morning. Her timing was most astute, as I am quite taken by the young lady.”
Jones paused once more to look up at Philip. The older man had been with him since his teens, and their relationship was close due to their long years together. The bespectacled servant’s eyes were shining warmly. “I am so pleased, Your Grace. It really will be quite uplifting to have a lady in residence once more! Miss Ridley sounds lovely from Clinton’s description.” The valet blanched. “He was not gossiping, mind you!”
Philip gave a brief smile. They had never quite acknowledged their connection over the past decade and a half, but the man’s well wishes were genuine and appreciated. The valet smiled in return before finishing his task. He had borne witness to all the major and minor events since Philip had come of age, and knew more about him than any other man alive. Except for, perhaps, the blackguard, Richard Balfour.
The valet stepped away to collect the navy tailcoat before returning to slip it over Philip’s arms. He quickly fastened the shiny gilt buttons of the double-breasted woolen coat before walking around him to inspect and straighten the garments to his meticulous standards.
“I believe you are ready, Your Grace. Enjoy your dinner.”
“Thank you, Jones. I will meet with my man of business before dinner. He should arrive soon. Please ask Clinton to show him to my study.” The valet bowed. “Also, do not wait up for me. I will undress myself later tonight, but I will see you early in the morning. Say, an hour before sunrise? I need to escort the lady home at first light.”
Philip prepared to leave his rooms. He needed to set plans in motion. Once he reached an agreement with Lord Filminster, he would need to make arrangements to wed Annabel. He would deliver his instructions to his man of affairs before making his way to the library to await Annabel. The young woman was curious and entertaining company. Anticipation lightened his steps and sent his pulse racing with an eagerness to see her once more. It had been some time since he had experienced such a lightness of spirit, and he hurried to plan out the arrangements of the next few days.
As the demure maid, Mary, helped her to don an old-fashioned muslin dress, Annabel worked to quell her excitement at spending an evening in the duke’s company. She hoped she could live up to his expectations. What would she talk about? It was not every day she had dinner with a duke. Until this morning, she had never seen a duke, never mind talked to one. She listed out topics in her mind, but they seemed like dull conversation.
Perhaps she should rather list topics she had discussed with Richard over the years. He had said she was captivating, so she could speak about similar subjects. Perhaps they could discuss horses or estate management. Or she could ask about local customs and celebrations. Annabel settled her hand over her nervous stomach. It felt like she had butterflies whirling in flight beneath the surface. If she did not calm herself, she would be unable to eat.
As Mary worked her tangle of chestnut hair into a coiffure, Annabel took a deep breath.
No matter what happened, she would do nothing to ruin this proposal. She would learn her duties to make the duke proud of her. Somehow, within just a few hours, the duke’s opinion of her now mattered, and she wanted him to like her and not be disappointed that he had offered her this wonderful opportunity. She would learn to be a good wife. Feeling a little nauseated, she recalled that she would need to learn to be a good duchess. She had never aspired or dreamed of elevating to such a high status.
Mary stepped back so that Annabel might peer at her reflection in the mirror. She gasped as she took in the stunning coiffure the reticent maid had fashioned her hair into. She had never had her hair so well set, a cascade of chestnut curls falling to frame her face. The muslin day dress was outdated, but simple and pretty with little red flowers embroidered around the hem. The colors suited Annabel, and she suspected she looked attractive.
She hoped the duke did not mind her sun-kissed skin tone. She had not the pale complexion of London fashion. Or that of the late duchess. There was no helping it, though. She was simply … herself. Annabel. She would need to be enough.
Philip waited for Annabel in the library, which was close to the dining room. He ran his hand through his hair, his nerves getting the better of him. His body was fizzing with excitement at spending the evening with the lovely Miss Ridley. The girl was nothing like society misses he had met. She was warm, friendly, and genuine. And he did not want to do anything to scare her off. He needed this marriage to occur as quickly as possible. For some nameless reason, now that the matter was decided, he could allow nothing to stand in the way.
As he paced up and down the Axminster carpeting of rich gold and deep gray, his thoughts strayed to his last argument with Jane.
“You demand too much. I do not want to discuss these matters with you. You are a violent reprobate, and I wish I had never married you!”
With disquiet, he heard light footsteps out in the hall. Straightening his coat, he strove for calmness and turned to the door with a slight smile.
Annabel stood hesitantly in the doorway. She looked adorable in an older muslin dress the servants must have unburied from his mother’s trunks. The bodice framed her full bosom, which her masculine riding attire had only hinted at. He checked the desire to lick his lips. Careful to not let his eyes dip, he strode forward to take her hand, placing a light kiss on her fingers as he bowed. A delightful fragrance of lavender wafted to meet his nostrils, and he wanted to press her against the doorframe and nuzzle every inch of scented skin that he could place his lips on.
Steady, Philip. You’re supposed to be reining in your base impulses.
Annabel curtsied and gave him a shy smile. “Your Grace, I must confess to feeling a little mortified this evening.”
“Mortified?”
“I can’t imagine what you must think of me riding alone across two counties to come find you.”
“We discussed that. You are reckless and daring. Despite your earlier teasing to the contrary, promise me that is the last time you do something so dangerous?”
She nodded with an earnest expression.
“Good! Now promise you will remain daring as you settle into safer behavior.”
She shot him a startled look and then repeated her earnest nod. “I agree. Daring but not reckless.”
“Excellent.”
“In that vein, I should know your name if we are to marry?”
“Philip. Philip Markham, at your service.”
“And do you?” she asked.
“Do I what?”
“Do you love horses?” Seeing his confusion, she elaborated. “Your name,” she prompted, “it means lover of horses?”
Her whimsical conversation choice struck Philip. He had noticed she was something of a bluestocking, which pleased him. Who was this enigmatic girl at heart—simple country hoyden or sharp-witted gentlewoman? As he continued to uncover intriguing layers to Annabel’s enchanting personality, he mused that a quick wit would prove useful for his future hostess. Although, he had to admit, for the immediate future, he had no plans to share this intoxicating girl with the world. He envisioned several weeks engaged in bed sport as he made up for lost time. His celibacy was ending, his desire returning full force for the first time since his unsuccessful marriage had dashed his hopes of partnership and affection into a thousand pieces before his wife’s abrupt departure from this world.
He turned his attention back to the multi-faceted, lively woman before him.
“I do, in fact. Very much.”
“I love horses, too. I ride daily. Avonmead must be a revelation to explore on horseback.”
“Then we will ride together so I can show you your new estate. Once we marry, you will have access to the finest stables in Wiltshire.”
“It is my first visit to your county. In fact, it is the first time I have left Somerset at all. Today has been quite an adventure.” Annabel seemed content. Philip kept expecting her to have an attack of vapors when she realized she had just agreed to marry a stranger, but the girl seemed determined to proceed with their agreement from earlier that day. This was no timid miss. Which made her perfect for him.
Philip experienced a moment of unreality as he realized he had only met Annabel that morning. Their interactions with each other were proceeding at a rapid pace. It felt like weeks since he had lifted his head to find her standing in his study. In a matter of hours, he had spent more time alone with Annabel than he had with his late wife during their entire courtship period. In fact, the only time he had spent alone with Jane was when he had proposed to her. Etiquette had allowed them a few moments unaccompanied when it was clear what his intentions were that fateful day. He now knew more about Annabel than his own wife before their wedding night.
“Annabel—I may call you Annabel?”
“I think it is too late in the day to stand on ceremony. May I call you Philip?”
“I would be delighted. Would you like to explore the library until dinner is called?”
As they walked deeper into the room, Philip pointed out the different sections of book categories. The library was lit by multiple sconces now that the windows were dark, framing the evening sky. Well-stocked and well-lit, the room was designed to be used at all times of the day and night.
“On these shelves, we have periodicals including issues of Ackermann’s Repository and The Gentleman’s Magazine. It’s especially helpful to read back issues when preparing for a Season, so you might be caught up on current affairs.”
“Is the recent edition of The Gentleman’s Magazine included? The one featuring you?”
Philip pulled a face. “Yes, it’s all a bit embarrassing, but I guess it worked out in my favor if it brought you here today.”
She smiled, obviously pleased at the implied compliment.
Annabel asked him questions about the classical murals painted within the recesses of the arched ceiling. They discovered their mutual love of Italian artists and pleasantly disagreed about their favored architectural elements—Annabel stating her case for the features of Avonmead, while Philip had a love of gothic. The library was a strange, eclectic combination of the varying tastes of Markham generations. While the ceiling was painted in the Italian style, the windows and arches were inspired by the architecture of North Africa.
The furnishings were a mixture of classical silks and Morocco leather, with an emphasis on comfort and function, rather than an ostentatious exhibit for visitors. She would not change a thing about it. It was cozy, while being larger than any library that she had had the privilege to enter. She breathed in the pleasing smell of aging paper and leather, along with hints of parchment, while she envisioned visiting this library as a part of her future routine. This might be the most enticing aspect of the wealth that marrying the duke offered.
He broke off his tour as Clinton appeared at the doorway to announce dinner. Annabel reflected that the night—nay, the entire day—was like a perfect dream, and she hoped it would never end.
CHAPTER 5
Annabel sat stiffly on the plush velvet squabs of the ducal carriage, fidgeting with the cuffs of her laundered linen shirt. As they approached Filminster, it felt like the perfection of the past two days was ending. She bit her lip as she peered out the window. What if this was all a dream, and she woke up to her wedding with Richard waiting at the altar? At this thought, she stopped breathing for just a moment, her stomach clenched into a knot as she struggled to remember how to start breathing again. Is it in, out or out, in?
The baron could refuse Halmesbury’s suit.
In, out, in, out.
Philip noted her anxiety and leaned forward to rest his hand over hers, staying her fingers from their tugging movement.
“Annabel?”
“Yes, Your Gra-Philip?”
He enjoyed the sound of his name in her husky, lowered voice. “You must relax, sweet. I will sort everything within a couple of hours. Soon we will drop you close to Baydon Hall so you can ride back in to pretend you have been there all along.”
“Yes, Mrs. Harris will have explained my absence as an illness that has kept me in bed. My father is supremely concerned with his own interests, so he will not have attempted to check on me.” She stopped as if she had noted she was babbling with nerves.
“Good, I will delay my arrival to give you time, and then the carriage will draw up to the front and I will distract him with my arrival. I will meet with Lord Filminster and explain that we were introduced at the recent ball at Lord and Lady Ashbury’s and that I wish to marry you.”
“Do you think you can convince him to betray his arrangement with Richard?”
“Do not worry about that. Saunton will not dare to make a move against me, and my offer, along with my higher rank, should be enough to convince Lord Filminster that he is obtaining a much better arrangement for himself.”
Annabel drew a deep breath, as if to steady the butterflies in her stomach. He suppressed a smile at her endearing attempts to hide her fear. “I cannot thank you enough,” she finally breathed out. “I wish I could stay here. With you.”
Philip experienced a rush of pleasure at her words. “I do not want you to worry. I will handle Filminster. If we had to, we would simply reveal that you have been compromised by being in my company for the past two days.”
Annabel’s eyes rounded in horror. “Never say that will be necessary!”
Philip chuckled. “It won’t. I have handled more sophisticated men than the baron. I will sort it out, and we will wed in a few days when I return from Canterbury with a special license.”
Noting her face was still set in an anxious expression, he decided to distract her from their imminent parting of ways. He had a question burning through his brain, and this was the time to ask. As he opened his mouth to speak, he found himself balking as his courage failed and asking a lesser question.
“Annabel, why would the baron not send for a doctor if he thought you were ill in bed?” It startled him when she turned a deep scarlet color. His prospective bride was blushing fiercely. “Annabel?”
After a few moments, she mumbled, “Um … the nature of the … um … illness was such that a doctor … was not required.”
“What illness would not … oh …” He broke off as he discerned the ruse she and the housekeeper had carried out. “That is quite cunning.”
“It … I … Mrs. Harris said we needed to … to prevent the baron sending for a doctor, and it was the only …”
Philip resisted the temptation to chuckle in the face of her embarrassment, even as he felt his own ears grow hot. Keeping a serene expression, he interrupted her clumsy explanation. “I understand. You were gambling with your future, and you played the hand you had available.”
“Exactly.” She looked appeased as she relaxed back into her seat. An irrepressible urge overcame him, and he could not dissuade himself from being vulgar. Perhaps he had viewed too many crude Rowlandson prints for his own good.
“And is it?”
“Is it what?”
“That time?”
The acute red of his soon-to-be intended’s ears fascinated Philip as her face fired with embarrassment once more. She stiffened off the back of her seat. “Um …”
“I’m teasing. You are not required to answer that,” he relented.
“Oh.” She looked relieved as she gave a halfhearted smile and settled back.
The carriage bumped lightly on the road as they settled into a companionable silence for several moments. Philip noted they had passed the town of Filminster and would soon reach Baydon Hall based on Annabel’s directions. If he was going to put his request to her, it would need to be right now. The idea had occurred to him several hours earlier and, despite some effort on his part to squash it, he could not set it aside.
