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Chapter Nine

“Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.”

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

* * *

M rs. Harris and Annabel stood wrapped in a heartfelt embrace. They had stolen a moment in the study to say their goodbyes, and both were struggling to speak without tears spilling over.

“You will make arrangements to join me at Avonmead?” Annabel asked softly.

“Yes, Your Grace. I will join you as soon as possible. I wish I were leaving with you now. It will be lonely here without you.”

Annabel snorted in disagreement. “What happened to ‘my girl’? Or ‘child’? What is this ‘Your Grace’ nonsense?”

The housekeeper’s warm hazel eyes glistened with unshed tears as she chuckled and released Annabel. “You are no longer a child. It is time to recognize you as a grown woman. A duchess of consequence now. You will have to hire tutors or a governess and whatnot to learn all the new airs you will need in polite society. I will have to learn to curtsy to you.”

“No airs with you, Mrs. Harris. And no curtsies … unless we are in company. Is that how it works? Do upper servants curtsy to duchesses? Oh my, I have so much to learn before I attempt to venture out into polite society!”

The older woman’s broad face lit with a smile, her rosy cheeks plumping up with affection. “I cannot tell you much about polite society. I am a country housekeeper for a reclusive baron who never goes anywhere. Best I can tell you is to take care of yourself until I get to Avonmead. You hear me, my girl? And take care of that handsome husband of yours.”

Annabel thrilled at the mention of Philip. She was married now, beginning a new life filled with possibilities. The future stretched ahead, bright and promising, and she felt capable of facing it all with Halmesbury at her side.

“Mrs. Harris, I cannot wait for you to join me! Let me hide you in one of my trunks. No one will know you are in there. Say yes, and we will sneak you into the second carriage!”

Mrs. Harris chuckled. “These old bones won’t fit into a trunk. We will have to wait. Perhaps His Grace will make the arrangements before Christmas, and we will be together for the holidays.”

Annabel sighed with playful frustration. “There you go, being practical. No sense of adventure…” she teased. She took a step back and bent her knees into a deep curtsy to the widow who had become a mother to her. “Until we meet again, Mrs. Harris.”

“Until we meet again, Your Grace, the Duchess of Halmesbury.” With a curtsy in reply and a cheeky grin, the housekeeper turned and left the room.

* * *

As the carriage rolled forward, Annabel drew a shaky breath. It was done. She was married, and now she was alone with Philip, her husband. The realization sent a wave of nervous anticipation through her, leaving her both exhilarated and uncertain. She had made the leap into a new life, trusting this man who had offered her safety and companionship in place of the betrayal she had left behind.

Philip seemed to sense her apprehension. He leaned forward slightly, his gray eyes warm as they met hers. “You are quiet, my sweet,” he said softly, his voice carrying a soothing cadence.

“I was just thinking,” she murmured, lowering her gaze briefly before daring to look back at him. “Everything has happened so quickly.”

“It has,” he agreed, reaching out to take her hand. His touch was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over her gloved knuckles. “But I do not regret a moment of it. Do you?”

Annabel hesitated, her heart thudding. “No,” she said at last. “I do not regret it.”

His smile deepened, and he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her fingers. The tenderness of the gesture sent a warmth blooming in her chest. “Then let us not dwell on what is behind us,” he said. “Today is a beginning.”

Her lips curved into a tentative smile, and she nodded. “A beginning,” she echoed.

Philip’s expression softened further as he regarded her. “Annabel,” he began, his tone taking on a new gravity. “There is much I hope to share with you in the days and weeks to come. I hope we can build something strong together—something real.”

She was struck by the sincerity in his words, her nerves easing slightly as his hand remained steadfast around hers. “I hope for that too,” she whispered.

He shifted closer, his free hand rising to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch was fleeting, yet it sent her heart racing. “Good,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Because I intend to do everything in my power to make you happy, Annabel.”

She believed him. In his gaze, she saw determination and care, and it steadied her in ways she had not expected. This was no reckless union of passion or mere convenience. There was potential here—a future built on trust and mutual respect.

Philip’s hand lingered against her cheek for a moment before he withdrew slightly, giving her space. “We have a long journey ahead,” he said lightly, breaking the charged silence. “But I find myself eager for the destination.”

Annabel’s smile grew. “As am I,” she admitted.

Settling back into their seats, the couple allowed the gentle sway of the carriage to carry them forward, leaving behind doubts and fears as they began their journey together. Annabel’s heart was lighter, her trust in Philip solidifying with every passing moment.

As the countryside blurred past the windows, she could not help but wonder what the future held. Whatever it might be, she was ready to face it—with Philip at her side.

* * *

Philip leaned back against the squabs of the carriage, his gaze fixed on his new bride seated across from him. Annabel was staring out the window, her hands fidgeting with the fabric of her gown. Her nervous energy was palpable, and it tugged at him in an unexpectedly tender way.

She was his wife now. The thought filled him with a satisfaction he had not anticipated. For days, he had imagined this moment—the two of them alone, the vows behind them, and the rest of their lives stretching out ahead. And yet, he found himself focusing less on what lay ahead and more on the woman before him.

“Come here, wife,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

Her gaze snapped to his, her eyes wide and questioning. He could see her hesitation, and he softened his tone. “Please?”

After a beat, she moved hesitantly toward him. Before she could settle, he reached out and lifted her effortlessly onto his lap. She let out a small gasp, her hands flying to his chest as if to steady herself. He chuckled softly, unable to resist teasing her a little.

“Philip!” she exclaimed, though her tone lacked any real reproach.

“Yes, Annabel?” he replied, his lips curving in a slow smile.

She shifted slightly, her face a delightful shade of pink. “This … this does not seem proper.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are my wife. I believe that makes it entirely proper.”

Her lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. Instead, she looked at him, her expression a mixture of uncertainty and something that looked very much like trust. The realization sent a strange warmth spreading through his chest.

“Are you nervous?” he asked quietly, his tone softening.

She hesitated, then nodded. The vulnerability in the slight gesture made his heart twist.

“Do not be,” he murmured, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Her eyes met his, and the sincerity in her gaze made him feel as though the world had steadied beneath him. “I believe you,” she replied softly.

Those three words struck him harder than he expected. He tightened his arms around her slightly, a surge of protectiveness washing over him. She had chosen him, trusted him, despite the whirlwind of circumstances that had brought them together. He would not fail her.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting the simple act speak the words he could not yet say.

“I am glad you are my wife,” he declared quietly, his voice rough with emotion he had not intended to reveal.

She blinked up at him, her own expression softening. “And I am grateful for you,” she replied, her fingers clutching at his lapels.

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other. Philip felt a profound sense of contentment settle over him. Whatever doubts had plagued him in the days leading up to their wedding faded. This woman, his Annabel, was everything he had not dared to hope for. He would do whatever it took to keep her happy.

He shifted slightly, his arms still around her. “Annabel,” he began, his voice low. “I have wanted this moment since the day we met. You must know that I?—”

But he stopped himself. She deserved more than rushed declarations in the back of a carriage. There would be time enough for that later. For now, he would let her set the pace.

“Never mind,” he said with a small smile. “We will have plenty of time to talk later.”

She tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but she did not press him. Instead, she rested her head against his shoulder, her trust warming him in a way he had not thought possible.

As the carriage swayed gently, Philip let himself enjoy the moment. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to believe that the future might hold something more than duty and regret.

But as Annabel’s breathing steadied against him, he could not entirely banish the shadow of Richard’s earlier words. Secrets had a way of surfacing, no matter how deeply buried. And when they did, he prayed they would not shatter the fragile trust he had built with the woman now nestled in his arms.