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Chapter Two

“The world was to me a secret which I desired to divine.”

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

* * *

P hilip was seated at his desk, the polished mahogany surface gleaming in the midmorning light. A soft breeze stirred the papers before him, drifting in through the open window. With the unseasonal warmth, he had propped the study door ajar to allow air to circulate. He hated working in stifling rooms. As he reviewed the figures spread across his desk, he sensed, rather than saw, that he was being watched.

“Clinton?” he called, setting down his quill. When no answer came, he glanced up, expecting his butler. Instead, his gaze landed on a young lad standing hesitantly just inside the doorway, dressed like a stable hand. Philip frowned. “Who are you?” he asked sharply.

The lad stepped into the room, his movements nervous yet determined. He walked straight to the chairs positioned before Philip’s desk and stopped, hands clenched at his sides. “Your Grace,” the boy said in a hoarse whisper.

“I said, who are you? And what are you doing in my study?” Philip’s frown deepened. “You are not one of my stable lads.”

“You recognize all your stable lads?” the boy countered.

“Indeed, I do. Now, explain yourself before I call Clinton to have you removed.”

“I have come from Filminster to seek your assistance,” the boy said, voice trembling yet resolute.

Philip leaned forward, suspicion narrowing his gaze. Something about the boy’s tone seemed … off. And that bulky coat—why wear such a thing in this balmy weather? He opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but the boy cleared his throat and spoke again. This time, the pitch of his voice rose higher, carrying a distinctly feminine quality.

Philip blinked. Could it be … a girl?

The boy—or rather, the girl—confirmed his suspicions by removing her hat and shrugging off the oversized coat. Before him stood a slender figure dressed in buckskin breeches and a billowing linen shirt. The curve of her hips and the faint outline of her bosom left no doubt. He sat back in his chair, startled. “What is this?” he demanded, dragging his gaze from her figure to her face.

“I came from Filminster to seek your help,” she said, her voice steady despite her apparent nervousness. “You are my last resort.”

Philip stared, his mind working furiously to make sense of this unexpected visitor. The girl was young, well-spoken, and clearly determined. Her chestnut hair, neatly plaited, framed a face that was earnest and intelligent. Whoever she was, she had gone to great lengths to reach him.

“Desperate enough to ride all this way, dressed as a boy?” he asked, his voice laced with incredulity.

“Yes,” she replied simply. “I would have done more if necessary.”

“More?”

“More … such as sell all my jewels and run off to Scotland.” She gazed out the window, clearly imagining a lengthy journey in her mind rather than the gardens her eyes appeared to be focused on.

He studied her for a moment, taking in the determined glint as she returned her gaze to meet his, leaving no doubt that she would do such a thing.

“Scotland.” Philip raised a brow at her boldness. “And you are …?”

“Miss Annabel Ridley, daughter of Lord Josiah Ridley, Baron of Filminster,” she said, curtsying awkwardly in her breeches. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”

The name sparked a memory. Philip tilted his head. “Filminster? That means … are you betrothed to my cousin, Richard Balfour?”

Her lips tightened at the mention of her fiancé. “Quite. I am to wed Lord Saunton, and that is why I need your help … to break the betrothal.”

Philip stared at her, stunned. Of all the reasons a young lady might barge into his study in disguise, this was not one he had anticipated. “You rode all night to reach me?”

“Yes,” she said, gesturing to her attire. “I had my housekeeper cover for me by pretending I was unwell. No one will visit me in my rooms if I am ill, and I rode through the night to reach Avonmead. It is a beautiful park.”

Philip rubbed his temples. “Miss Ridley, that was an incredibly dangerous journey. You could have been harmed.”

Her chin lifted. “It was necessary. My future is at stake.”

He studied her for a long moment, impressed by the fire in her eyes. She was no timid debutante, that much was certain. “And what makes you think I can help?”

“You are a man of influence, Your Grace,” she replied. “The articles about your charitable works suggested you were a fair and just man. I believed you might listen to my plight and offer guidance.”

Philip sighed and gestured toward the sofa near the window. “Please, sit down. It seems you have much to tell me.”

As she crossed the room, Philip closed the study door, ensuring their conversation remained private. He returned to his seat, watching her closely. This young woman had taken an extraordinary risk to reach him. Her boldness was both concerning and intriguing.

Could she be the solution to his own predicament? The thought was absurd … and yet, not entirely unwelcome. For now, he set it aside, choosing instead to listen to her story. If nothing else, this encounter would be far more engaging than the dreary rounds of social calls that awaited him this coming Season.

* * *

Annabel admired the splendid Chippendale sofa positioned below the window, its rich upholstery framed perfectly by a crimson Anatolian rug. As inviting as it looked, she hesitated to sit, mindful of her sweat-dampened clothes. Instead, she moved to a mahogany armchair near the sofa and sank into it with a sigh of relief. Her legs ached from the long ride, and she shifted slightly, trying to ease the discomfort while maintaining an air of confidence.

As the duke approached and settled onto the sofa, she could not help but notice his striking appearance. The sunlight streaming through the window caught his blond hair, turning it to spun gold. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. His strong jaw, straight nose, and thick blond eyebrows gave him an air of effortless authority. He looked like he had stepped from the pages of an illustrated history of Viking chieftains.

The sheer vitality of the man was unlike anything Annabel had encountered. Where Richard’s charm had always seemed polished and practiced, the Duke of Halmesbury exuded natural strength and composure. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and she fought to regain her focus.

Pull yourself together, Annabel.

The duke leaned back comfortably, his gray eyes sharp yet not unkind. “Would you like to start at the beginning, Miss Ridley? Why have you sought me out?”

Annabel met his gaze and congratulated herself on having come this far. Now, she only needed to summon the courage to speak her truth. “I have known Richard for a long time,” she began. “He is a boyhood friend of my brother, Brendan, and Saunton Park is near my home, Baydon Hall. Over the years, he has been something of a confidant. I … I do not have many friends.”

She glanced down, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “My father does not like to leave the estate unless necessary, and he rarely allows me to travel. Unless my aunt visits, and then only when she chaperones me to Filminster events.”

The duke’s expression softened. “Your mother is not present?”

Annabel’s lips curved into a wistful smile. “No. She passed away nearly eleven years ago. Mama was wonderful. If she were here, I would not need to trouble you. She would never have allowed things to progress this far.”

The duke inclined his head slightly. “And what has happened?”

Annabel took a steadying breath. “I thought I knew Richard. He was kind when my father was not, and when Brendan …” Her voice faltered. “When Brendan lost interest in me, I craved the attention and I imagined myself in love with him. When he proposed, I was overjoyed. It seemed like a chance to escape my father’s criticisms and restrictions. But …”

She hesitated, heat flooding her cheeks. “I was na?ve. Richard made me feel special, but I now see how blind I was. A month ago, I … I discovered him behaving inappropriately with our kitchen maid in the stables.”

The duke inhaled sharply, sitting straighter. He folded his arms across his chest and exhaled slowly, as though reining in his emotions. Annabel felt a rush of relief. At last, someone recognized the wrongness of what she had endured.

He lowered his arms and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “I am very sorry you were exposed to Richard’s indiscretions in such a crude manner. I know him to be a rake, but I had hoped he possessed some sense of delicacy.”

Annabel managed a small, grateful smile. “It is such a relief to speak with someone who understands my predicament.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “You mean to say others do not?”

She nodded sadly. “When I confronted Richard, he dismissed my concerns and declared the wedding would proceed. My father was equally unyielding. He believes Richard is the best match I could hope for, and he says such behavior is typical among men of Richard’s station. My brother is in London, and I have not spoken with him in years. My aunt will not even entertain a discussion about the matter.”

The duke grimaced. “And yet you feel strongly that the marriage should not proceed.”

Annabel straightened, her chin lifting slightly. “I want a proper marriage with an honorable man. If love is not possible, then at least warmth and mutual respect. I wish for a family—a faithful husband and children to cherish. Richard’s deceitful nature makes any of that impossible.” Her voice trembled with conviction. “I would rather have an honest marriage of convenience with shared goals than endure this farce.”

* * *

Philip leaned back slightly, regarding Miss Ridley with a mixture of admiration and intrigue. “I see your point. I value integrity myself.”

Miss Ridley’s expression softened in relief.

“You rode a long way to find me,” he continued. “I assume you have a solution in mind. What exactly are you asking me to do for you?”

“I was hoping you would speak to Richard. He has always spoken of you with reverence. Perhaps you could convince him to release me from the betrothal?”

Philip considered her words. A beautiful, intelligent woman, bold enough to seize control of her future, had come directly to him for aid. She was striking, self-possessed, and everything he had wished for during his musings that very morning. Unlike the timid young women he had encountered in the past, Miss Ridley had a passion and vitality that drew his attention.

The opportunity she presented was undeniable. Helping her avoid a marriage to Richard—an irredeemable rogue, in Philip’s estimation—could also solve his own problem. He needed a wife, and Annabel Ridley possessed the spirit, intelligence, and strength he valued. This was not mere fortune; this was the recognition of an opportunity and acting upon it.

Mind made up, he declared, “I agree to help.”

She blinked, clearly shocked, before her brandy-colored eyes lit with joy. “You will speak to Richard?”

Philip’s chest tightened at her effervescent smile, but he focused on the matter at hand. “Unfortunately, my cousin and I are no longer in contact. We have not spoken in three years, which is why you and I have not had the pleasure of meeting before today. However,” he added, leaning forward slightly, “I have a much better plan.”

Annabel’s brow furrowed. “A better plan?”

Philip nodded, choosing his words carefully.

“A plan my cousin cannot fight.” He hesitated briefly, gathering his resolve. Fortune favors the bold, Philip. “I will marry you instead.”

Annabel’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “What?”

“You need a husband who can rival Richard’s social standing,” Philip explained, his tone steady and matter-of-fact. “Your father would likely be overjoyed to secure a connection to a duke rather than an earl. As for myself, I need a wife. You strike me as intelligent and determined—qualities I admire. I believe we could have a successful partnership.”

Annabel’s cheeks flushed as her gaze faltered. “You would engage in a marriage of convenience? With me?”

“Yes. A marriage built on mutual respect and shared goals is superior to many marriages I know. It would certainly be preferable to my first marriage.”

Her brow creased with uncertainty. “But why me? Why would you do this for me?”

Philip held her gaze for a moment, willing himself to remain composed. He could confess that her boldness impressed him, or that he found her far more intriguing than any woman he had met in years. He could even admit to the relief of avoiding another Season filled with idle conversations and tedious introductions. But he settled on a simpler answer.

“It is the gentlemanly thing to do,” he said with a faint smile. “I would be honored to assist you in resolving this matter.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though her expression remained wary. “You would marry me without love?”

Philip inclined his head. “Love is not something I seek. What I value is companionship, respect, and shared purpose. I believe we could offer that to each other. You are a bold, capable young woman, and I believe you would make an excellent wife.”

Annabel bit her lip, her uncertainty evident. Philip gave her a moment to process his offer. He needed to handle this carefully if he was to win her agreement.

“Consider the advantages,” he continued. “You would no longer be under your father’s control or subject to Richard’s whims. You would have independence within a household that values your voice and your choices. And you would gain the security of a partnership with someone who respects you.”

Annabel studied him intently, her brandy eyes searching his face for sincerity. At last, she nodded slightly, as if coming to terms with the possibility. “You have given me much to think about, Your Grace.”

Philip allowed himself a small smile. “That is all I ask, Miss Ridley. Think on it. We can discuss the matter further while I give you a tour of Avonmead.”

As she inclined her head in agreement, Philip felt a flicker of hope. This arrangement, unexpected as it was, held the promise of a future far more fulfilling than anything he had anticipated that morning.

* * *

After her initial surprise waned, Annabel allowed herself to consider the duke’s offer. The options remaining to her were scarce, so the decision did not take long—barely a few seconds.

Her gaze shifted to him, a man renowned for his honor and integrity. He was, she admitted to herself, pleasing to look at. A faithful marriage to a handsome duke, founded on honesty and shared goals, was far better than the disastrous future she had been fighting to avoid. Still, doubts tugged at the edges of her thoughts. She had never envisioned herself as a duchess. Was she prepared for such a role?

Her situation had felt like a tightening noose, the future already planned for her. Yet here, almost at the very hour of her metaphorical execution, was an unexpected reprieve. The Duke of Halmesbury offered not just escape, but the chance for a promising future. Decisiveness was key now—she had to act swiftly. Surely, she would be a fool to reject the opportunity before her? Women of the ton vied for such matches; how many noblemen of his rank, charm, and appearance would offer marriage on sight? If any.

Her mother’s voice seemed to echo in her mind, full of approval. This was an improved outcome, the sort of chance Mama would have urged her to seize.

Besides, what if she hesitated, and he changed his mind? The duke might realize she had little to offer him and withdraw the proposal. Better to secure the promise now, before he reconsidered.

As her thoughts raced, she became aware of his steady, patient gaze. The duke’s composure put her at ease, even as her pulse quickened. She liked this man. He seemed approachable, kind, and grounded—qualities she admired. And he was one of the most attractive man she had ever encountered. Could she marry him?

It struck her then: they did not truly know each other. But had she not known Richard for nearly a decade? Yet she had not known him at all. The Stable Incident had proven that time spent in someone’s company was no guarantee of understanding their character. This decision, Annabel realized, would rest not on time, but on instinct.

But look where your instincts have gotten you before, a voice inside her warned.

That was true—but it was also not the whole truth. She was no longer the woman she had been a month ago. Discovering Richard’s betrayal had been a pivotal moment, reshaping her perspective. She had spent the past weeks reflecting deeply on life, character, and integrity. The poetry and philosophy she had read over the years had taken on new meaning, teaching her the true nature of love, trust, and betrayal.

She might not be a great beauty or a celebrated social success, but she believed in her own worth. She had the right to pursue happiness, just like anyone else.

What truly mattered now was whether she trusted her ability to appraise the man before her. Did her instincts tell her he was someone she could trust? And if they did, was she brave enough to take the leap of faith?

Meeting his gaze, she found herself smiling. “Perhaps you could show me your home and tell me about what marriage with you would be like?” she ventured.

The duke’s grin in response was both warm and genuine, lighting his features in a way that made her pulse flutter. “What a splendid idea,” he said.

Annabel blinked, momentarily caught off guard by how his full, sculpted lips revealed perfect white teeth against sun-bronzed skin. He was, undeniably, exceptional to behold—even more so when he smiled.