Page 50 of Miss Ridley and the Duke

His cousin continued. “Do not misunderstand me. Annabel is all of those things. That is why I believed she was the one woman I could abide marrying. Losing my chance with her has made me feel at odds for the past month. I do not know if I want to drink myself under a table, sober up, change my life completely, or just return to what I was doing before the idea of marriage entered my head. But what you just described, and the way your face lit up while you were talking … I do not think you were describing friendship, cousin.”

Philip stared at Saunton for some time, trying to make sense of what the man was implying. Slowly, he collected his wits. “What are you saying? You think I love her? Why do you think … that … that … Oh … blast … I do … I love her … I loved her the moment she stole into my study and asked me to come to her aid! How could I not? She was the very antithesis of Jane, all boldness and brightness driving back the shadows I had been living in. She always says what she thinks, and she makes me talk when I am troubled. Jane would not even be in the same room with me, let alone talk to me, but my Annabel seeks me out to smother me with warm affection⁠—”

Richard smirked. “Must be nice to be wanted.”

“And I ran off nearly a week ago to hunt you down! Right after she told me she loved me, I ran off! What must she think?”

“She probably thinks you are a terrible blackguard who does not love her. You failed to mention any reciprocation within that little narrative?”

“Hell, Annabel is right! If you do not say these things out loud to someone, these thoughts get trapped in your head until they turn into deranged, illogical conclusions. I was so startled that this remarkable, vivacious woman could love me, I left her crying in her bedchamber. Botheration! She was pleading for me to forget that she voiced her feelings and apologizing for uncovering the truth about Jane’s brother!” Philip’s chair tipped as he jumped up, but he reached out and grabbed it before it fell over. “I have to go … I have to go tell my wife I love her.”

Saunton raised his tumbler in toast. “Long live true love.”

Philip gave a short bow. “Once again, my friend, my sincere apologies for doubting you. I will make some time for you so we can reconnect once I have sorted out this matter with Annabel. But do not come to Avonmead. You still acted like an utter dog with Annabel, and I don’t want to force your company on her unless she wishes to see you.”

The earl grimaced. “Understood. Do not come to Avonmead unless I am invited. I won’t say I don’t still resent you stealing my bride, but now that you have her, go make it right, Halmesbury. She is rather special, you know.”

Philip assented and turned to walk back out of the club.

“Oh, Halmesbury?” Philip stopped.

“Thank you … for coming to find me. I find myself … feeling … uplifted somehow. I think I needed this … our reconciliation.”

Philip’s lips curved. “Me, too, cousin. Me, too.”

Chapter Twenty

“The mountains and the waters had become my sole acquaintance.”

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

* * *

Philip returned to Markham House after his conversation with Richard. He was desperate to return to Avonmead, but he had not slept or eaten properly in days. It would not do to drop dead from exhaustion on the long journey. As he attempted to sleep alone in his massive state bed, he tossed. Then turned. Then tossed some more.

He had the awful feeling that he had mishandled these past few days. Was Richard right? Did Annabel consider him to be an unmitigated cad after their last discourse? He attempted once more to think of what he had said in response to her declaration. He recollected her words with extraordinary accuracy, but could not bring his own responses to mind. Had he not said anything? Is that why he could not recall his own words?

If he had said nothing in response, what must Annabel think? Did she believe he was angry with her? How could he be angry? She had reconciled him with his cousin after he had made erroneous assumptions for years. Did she now think her love was unwanted? He had never been the recipient of such regard, apart from his parents who were long since departed from this world. He was not quite sure what to do when admired so wholly. It made him both uncomfortable and grateful.

It would be as much as two more days before he would see her again. He wished he had not left her alone in her despair.

“I love you care about my happiness! I love that so much.” He recalled the anguish in her voice as she had attempted to retract her declaration. That was before she realized it was futile. The words could not be unsaid. Then she had shifted to apologizing for affections. “—please, Philip, it is all right. You do not have to say anything. This changes nothing. I’m not expecting anything. Can we pretend I did not say it … please!”

His chest tightened at the memory, and he wanted to kick himself for the foolish platitudes he had uttered instead of taking her in his arms and telling her his heart. He needed to get back to Avonmead. He cringed as he recollected his idiotic conclusions in his carriage on the way to London. No true pairing of the minds? No honest moments between them? He had never experienced such closeness, nor shared so many of his private thoughts with any living soul. He had convinced himself that what Annabel felt was infatuation, when they had truly forged a deep and personal connection. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. He had been so afraid of love that he had rejected his glorious Annabel, causing her to apologize for her affection.

His immaturity was mortifying, his handling of the first genuine connection he had ever experienced with a woman was an embarrassment. Philip turned over again, but there was no comfort to be found in his heavenly, luxurious bed while the discomfort torturing him lay within his conscience, and he had no means of pacifying it.

After a fruitless night of sleep, or lack of it, Philip had opened his eyes from an unsatisfying doze to find light streaming between his curtains. He jumped out of bed, eager to dress and eat before leaving London. As he called for a footman to valet for him, he came to a standstill. It was premature to leave London. There was something he needed to do first. Reaching his wife would have to wait a little longer.

* * *

Once again, he searched London for yet another member of the peerage. He could have sent a footman out to do the reconnaissance, but Philip feared going mad if he did not occupy his mind, so he conducted the search himself. First, he sought out Richard at Stratford Club to ascertain the location of the gentleman he sought.

The earl had surprisingly been up before midday, eating breakfast, and had been a fount of information regarding probable locations. Saunton, however, had declined to discuss anything he might know about personal matters. Nevertheless, Philip now had a list of places to survey. On this occasion, to save valuable hours, he had planned his search in an ordered manner. His theory was that he would see Annabel sooner if he approached this new hunt with efficiency.

He had begun his search at the Ridley townhouse just off Grosvenor Square. It had not taken long to reach the stucco building. He looked up at the four-story façade and drew a deep, calming breath. He hoped his search would be over immediately as he mounted the stone steps. Reaching the door, he eyed the brass knocker formed in the shape of a lion’s head. Resolutely, he lifted his hand to grasp the ring and bring it down with a heavy, methodical thumping. And then he waited for signs of life from within.

When a butler appeared, resplendent in his black suit and pompous attitude, Philip handed him a card. The stoic butler bowed and asked him to wait in the hall. The duke had trouble standing still as impatience sung through his limbs. He needed to handle this matter and leave the city for home. His true home, where his very heart waited for him.