Page 16 of Miss Ridley and the Duke
“In that vein,” she began, her eyes twinkling with humor, “I should know your name if we are to marry.”
“Philip. Philip Markham, at your service.”
“And do you?” she asked with a playful tilt of her head.
“Do I what?”
“Do you love horses? Your name—it means lover of horses, does it not?”
Her whimsical observation caught him off guard, and he chuckled. She was a puzzle—part country hoyden, part sharp-witted gentlewoman. Every moment spent with her revealed another delightful facet of her personality.
“I do, in fact,” he answered, smiling. “Very much.”
“I love horses, too,” she said warmly. “I ride daily. Avonmead must be a revelation to explore on horseback.”
“Then we shall ride together, and I will show you your new estate. Once we marry, you will have access to the finest stables in Wiltshire.”
“It is my first visit to this county. In fact, it is the first time I have left Somerset. Today has been quite the adventure.”
Philip watched her closely, marveling at her calm demeanor. She had agreed to marry him—a stranger—and yet showed no signs of wavering. She was no timid miss, and her fortitude only strengthened his belief that she was the perfect choice.
“Annabel,” he began, “may I call you Annabel?”
“I think it is far too late in the day to stand on ceremony,” she teased. “May I call you Philip?”
“I would be delighted.” He offered his arm. “Shall we explore the library until dinner is ready?”
As they strolled among the towering shelves, Philip pointed out various sections of books. “Here, we have periodicals—including Ackermann’s Repository and The Gentleman’s Magazine. It is quite helpful to read back issues when preparing for a Season. That way, one can catch up on the latest trends and topics of interest.”
“Does that include the recent issue featuring you?” Annabel asked, her tone teasing.
Philip grimaced. “Yes, it is all a bit embarrassing. Though I suppose I should not complain—it did bring you to Avonmead.”
Her cheeks dimpled as she smiled, clearly pleased.
They lingered in conversation, discussing the classical murals adorning the arched ceiling and their shared appreciation of Italian artists. They debated architectural styles—Annabel favoring the features of Avonmead, while Philip championed Gothic elements.
The library, with its eclectic blend of silks and Morocco leather furnishings, delighted Annabel. She marveled at its cozy yet grand design, imagining herself spending countless hours among its treasures.
The rich scent of aged paper and leather surrounded her, soothing and enticing. She realized with a start that this library might be the most enchanting aspect of the wealth and status marriage to Philip could offer.
Before she could voice her admiration, Clinton appeared at the doorway to announce dinner.
As Philip offered his arm once more, Annabel reflected on the day’s events. It felt like a dream—a perfect, unexpected dream. And as they left the library, she found herself hoping it would never end.
Chapter Five
“With how many things are we upon the brink of becoming acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries?”
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein
* * *
Annabel sat stiffly on the plush velvet squabs of the ducal carriage, her hands fidgeting with the cuffs of her freshly laundered linen shirt. The motion of the carriage, usually soothing, only added to the swirl of thoughts tangling in her mind.
As they neared Filminster, a heavy sense of foreboding settled over her. The past two days had been like a dream—perfect, and far removed from the suffocating reality she had left behind. But now, as the familiar countryside of her home came into view, she feared waking to find it had all been an illusion.
The thought of standing at the altar, Richard waiting with that smug smile, made her breath catch painfully in her throat. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot.
