Page 13 of Miss Ridley and the Duke

Philip smiled, working to contain his delight. Every instinct told him this was right. This was no mere coincidence—it was destiny. An amazing quirk of fate had placed Annabel Ridley on his path, and he knew, without doubt, that this day would redefine his future.

This girl was special. This moment was special. It felt as though the very hands of providence were altering the course of his life.

And Richard is going to be furious. That thought brought an added rush of satisfaction, mixing triumph with his joy.

Philip was careful to hide the flood of emotions coursing through him, keeping his demeanor steady even as his heart raced with excitement.

“Excellent,” he said warmly, taking her hand in his. He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her gloved fingers, his touch lingering just a moment longer than propriety dictated. “Our partnership shall be long and happy, my dear Miss Ridley.”

His mind filled with hopeful visions. He wanted a home filled with warmth, laughter, and life. He wanted to discover all the little things that made Annabel so fascinating, from her boldness to her quick wit. What books did she read? What dreams did she hold in her heart? What drove her to defy convention and ride through the night to seek him out?

He silently thanked his decision to agree to that magazine piece—an effort he had dismissed at the time as a silly vanity project. Yet it had drawn this extraordinary woman to him, and for that, he would be forever grateful.

He wanted to debate her ideas over dinner, share quiet moments in the library, and learn everything about her. She intrigued him like no one else ever had.

But now was not the time to indulge his dreams. He composed himself and spoke evenly. “I imagine you are in need of some rest after your journey. I will arrange for Clinton to find you something to wear while your riding clothes are cleaned. We can have dinner this evening, and tomorrow at first light, we will set out. I will see you safely home before your father has any reason to suspect your absence.”

Annabel tilted her head, studying him. “You do not plan to tell him about my … unconventional journey?”

Philip chuckled, shaking his head. “My dear Miss Ridley, I would not dare.”

Relief bloomed across her face, her smile lighting up the room. It was clear she had feared a reprimand, but instead, she had found an ally.

“As long as you promise,” he added, “that you will not risk your lovely neck on any more dangerous, cross-country escapades.”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “We shall see,” she replied, her voice light with insolence. “Once you come up to scratch, I will consider your request.”

Philip laughed heartily as he led her back into the hall. “Don’t worry, Miss Ridley. We shall wed before the week is done. Until that happy moment, I shall not sleep a wink, for I must ensure Scotland plays no part in your future plans.”

* * *

Within half an hour, a tall, redheaded maid led Annabel into a grand, ornate bedchamber overlooking the gardens and woods behind the manor. Through the large sash windows, she could see far into the distance, a stunning tapestry of walled gardens, trees, and bushes in a riot of colors, dissecting the expansive lawns. A gleam of water beyond the trees hinted at a hidden lake.

She sighed in delight. The park was magnificent.

Annabel arrived at the chamber slightly breathless from the effort it had taken to reach it. Avonmead was vast, its two enormous wings stretching in either direction. The trek up a grand staircase with ornate balustrades and through several lengthy passages, combined with her earlier exploration of the estate alongside the duke, had demonstrated the mansion’s immense size and scope.

The maid, however, showed no signs of weariness, her steady pace suggesting she was well accustomed to traversing such distances in her daily duties.

On the sky-blue jacquard counterpane, a fresh chemise had been laid out. Annabel’s fingers brushed the fine fabric of the bedcovers, admiring the intricate damask pattern woven with glossy and matte threads. If this was the luxury of a guest chamber, the Markham family’s private quarters must be astonishing.

Mary, the maid, cleared her throat. “I will help you undress to bathe, miss. We will have your ... riding clothes cleaned for the morning, and I will return to help you dress for dinner at about six this evening. His Grace instructed that you not be disturbed until then. We will find suitable garments for you to dine in.”

Mary hesitated over the mention of Annabel’s attire, and her disconcerted expression as she helped remove the unconventional clothing made it clear she was unsure what to make of it. Annabel suppressed a wry smile. No doubt, the girl had never encountered a woman daring enough to don masculine attire, and it left her feeling a bit self-conscious.

At Baydon Hall, the servants were tolerant of her eccentricities, but Annabel knew well that in more formal households, propriety was enforced with even greater rigor than among the peers they served. Richard had often regaled her with tales of his youthful exploits in such homes, though hindsight now made her wince. It was all too likely those anecdotes had omitted the disreputable details that caused the real trouble. Zooks, she had been naïve not to have questioned them more deeply!

A hand-painted screen of flowers and birds shielded the hammered copper tub positioned near the fireplace. Rising steam curled around its edges, and Mary’s damp skin and slightly limp red hair attested to the effort she had expended filling it. Gathering Annabel’s unconventional attire with visible discomfort, the maid made for the door.

“Thank you, Mary,” Annabel said warmly.

The maid glanced back, her blue eyes rounding as if startled. Annabel supposed that gratitude from a guest was rare. But, earlier that day, the duke had demonstrated a familiarity with his household staff that spoke of a very different attitude. He had shown genuine regard for them, something Annabel doubted her father could even fathom. The baron’s interaction with his staff rarely extended beyond barking commands.

“Do you require help bathing, miss?” Mary asked hesitantly. “I can deliver your clothing to be laundered and return directly.”

“No, that will not be necessary. I shall see you later, to dress for dinner.”

Mary nodded shyly, retreating with a quiet click of the door.