Page 24

“You must create a female for me.”

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

* * *

1820, EARLY SPRING

P hilip folded his paper as he peered over at his wife. Annabel had a delightful habit of humming with enjoyment when she ate buttered toast, and the sounds were distracting him. They had finally made it to London together, and it was a splendid time of the year to be introducing Annabel to its delights. The weather was pleasant, the cherry trees were blooming and, according to the paper, hell had frozen over.

“Annabel?”

“Hmm … yes, My Grace?”

“Could I have your full attention, or are you planning to run away with that toast and leave me to raise our son without you?”

“There is a thought.”

Philip laughed as he reached to swipe his thumb over the dab of butter on the corner of her lower lip. “Love, I would prefer you do not joke about that.” He raised his thumb to his mouth and licked it clean.

“I did not. You were the one who made the jest.”

“Honey, I am serious. Pay attention, I have news to impart.”

Annabel turned her glorious brandy eyes to his, causing him to pause in fascination.

“News?” she queried.

“Our timing in finally bringing you to London is … serendipitous. It appears you will soon be able to meet the Countess of Saunton.”

Annabel’s jaw dropped. “Saunton is … married ?”

“Indeed, the papers report he shared his nuptials with a delightful Miss Sophia Hayward who was on her fourth Season.”

“Who is she?”

“I have no idea. But she is an uncommonly brave young woman, I would say.”

Annabel smiled as she looked back at her favored toast, eyeing the melting butter with evident relish. “Indeed. There must be quite a story to how that match came about.”

Philip smiled as he gently disagreed. “Not as interesting as our own story, my sweet Annabel.”

“Indeed, husband. I look forward to continuing our story when you take me to visit the pelicans in St. James’s Park with our son this afternoon.”

Philip groaned. “Pelicans? You will turn me into a veritable Dr. Syntax, visiting every picturesque tourist spot in the city!”

“Well … I have never seen a pelican, and it sounds more interesting than attending obligatory dos with pompous peers to forward your political aims. Just be grateful I do not plan to sketch every spot we will visit,” Annabel rejoined with a impudent smirk.

Philip shook his head in resignation before leaning down to press a firm kiss to her plump, buttery lips. “You are an autocrat, wife, but I will concede that it is only fair we go view your wildlife before you accompany me to the Russian ambassador’s soiree tonight to commence mingling with my wildlife.”

Annabel giggled nervously. “Please do not remind me that my duchess studies are about to be assayed by the Russian countess herself.”

“She would not dare cross me … and you will win her heart just as you have won mine, Annabel. You are an original.”

Annabel blushed with pleasure as she stretched up to return his kiss.

* * *

Curious if a rake like Lord Richard Balfour could redeem himself, fix his past misdeeds, and find true love?

Find out in Miss Hayward and the Earl !