Page 6

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

* * *

A nnabel 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.

Breathe, Annabel. In, out. Or is it out, in?

The possibility loomed like a storm cloud: her father could refuse Halmesbury’s suit. That thought threatened to spiral into panic.

In, out. Breathe in, breathe out.

Philip’s voice interrupted her racing thoughts. “Annabel?”

His hand covered hers, warm and reassuring, halting her nervous tugging at her cuffs.

“Yes, Your Gra—Philip?” She corrected herself, her voice faltering but soft.

* * *

He smiled softly at her slip. “You must relax, sweet. I will handle everything. Within a few hours, you will be safely home, and I will call on your father to make my suit.”

She exhaled shakily, though her lips tilted into a small smile at his calm assurance. “Mrs. Harris will have explained my absence as an illness that kept me in bed. My father will not have checked on me—he rarely does when his routine is undisturbed.”

Philip frowned slightly at the bitterness that tinged her voice. “Good. That gives us the advantage. I will delay my arrival to give you time, and the carriage will drop you close to Baydon Hall so you can ride in as though you were never gone. When I arrive at your home, I will distract Lord Filminster with my proposal.”

She bit her lip, her nerves obvious. “Do you truly believe he will break his arrangement with Richard?”

“I do.” Philip’s voice was firm, his gray eyes steady. “My higher rank and my offer will be irresistible to your father. And as for Richard—he will not dare cross me.”

Annabel’s shoulders sagged in relief, though her fingers still fidgeted. “I cannot thank you enough. I only wish I could remain here with you.”

Philip’s chest tightened at her heartfelt words, warmth spreading through him. “I do not want you to worry,” he said gently. “This will all be resolved quickly, and soon you will never have to think of Richard again.”

Her lips parted, then pressed shut as she blushed. Her gaze dropped to their hands, where his still rested over hers. The sight stirred something deep within him—an urge to reassure her, to see her smile again.

He gave a soft laugh. “I have a question for you, Annabel.”

Her eyes lifted, curious. “What is it?”

“Why would the baron not send for a doctor if he believed you were ill?”

Her cheeks turned scarlet, and she averted her eyes. “Um … the nature of the illness … Mrs. Harris thought it best to prevent inquiries by saying it was …”

Realization dawned, and Philip quickly cut her off to save her further embarrassment. “Ah. That was quite resourceful of Mrs. Harris.”

Annabel’s lips twitched, though her cheeks remained red. “It was necessary.”

He hesitated, his gaze thoughtful. He had another question, one that had been pressing on his mind. Despite his desire to proceed cautiously, his instincts urged him forward. If they were to marry, this was a matter he needed to settle in his own mind.

“Annabel,” he began, his tone quiet but steady. “May I ask something else?”

“Of course.”

Philip shifted slightly, leaning forward. “We have agreed to marry, and I want to be certain that we … suit.” He paused, then continued, his voice lower. “May I seal our agreement with a kiss?”

Her eyes widened, her breath catching for a moment. Philip held himself still, his pulse quickening as he awaited her answer.

Then, with a small nod, she consented.

Relief coursed through him, mingling with a quiet thrill. He moved to sit beside her, careful to give her space. Gently, he raised a hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Tell me if you feel uncomfortable,” he murmured.

She nodded again, her gaze unwavering as she met his.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers with the barest pressure. Her softness startled him, her warmth drawing him in. He deepened the kiss slightly, lingering just enough to sense her response. When her hands lightly rested on his arms, her tentative touch encouraged him, and he withdrew with care.

* * *

Annabel’s heart raced as Philip’s lips brushed hers, tender yet firm, sparking sensations she had never imagined. Her first kiss was everything she had not known she wanted—soft yet thrilling, his warmth steadying even as her emotions swirled. She felt the quiet confidence of his presence, a contrast to the chaos of her thoughts.

When he deepened the kiss, and she responded instinctively, her hands rising to his arms as she leaned into the moment. His care and respect were in every gentle movement, making her feel cherished and safe.

He drew back slowly, his breath mingling with hers, their foreheads nearly touching. His gray eyes, filled with unspoken emotion, met hers. “I cannot wait to make you my wife, Annabel,” he murmured, his voice rough with sincerity.

Her chest tightened, and a soft smile played at her lips. “I am looking forward to it as well,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the wild thrum of her heart.

Philip’s gaze lingered for a moment before he reluctantly moved back to his seat, leaving a warm void where his nearness had been. Annabel felt the absence keenly, her fingers itching to reach for him again, but she clasped her hands tightly in her lap instead.

The carriage bumped gently along the road, the rhythmic motion grounding her as she tried to compose her thoughts. She glanced at Philip, who seemed deep in thought, his expression calm yet contemplative.

Her cheeks warmed as she replayed the kiss in her mind. Did I do it right? Did I meet his expectations? She had never thought herself bold, yet in his presence, she felt a courage she had not known before.

Breaking the silence, Philip turned to her with a soft chuckle. “You seem far away in thought.”

“I was just … marveling at how much has changed in so little time,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “It is almost overwhelming.”

His smile was reassuring. “Life often takes unexpected turns. But I believe some of those turns lead us exactly where we need to be.”

Annabel’s heart swelled at his words, and she nodded, finding comfort in his confidence.

The carriage slowed, signaling their approach to the woods near Baydon Hall. Philip shifted, retrieving her hat and coat, which he handed to her with a look of regret that their time together was ending for now.

Once the footman had prepared Starling, Philip helped Annabel into the saddle. His hands lingered briefly at her waist, steadying her, before he stepped back.

“Ride safely, Annabel,” he said, his voice low and warm. “I will see you very soon.”

She smiled down at him, her cheeks still flushed from their earlier embrace. “Until then, Philip.”

With a gentle nudge, Starling moved into a brisk canter, carrying her toward the woods. As the wind cooled her flushed face, Annabel allowed herself a small smile. Despite her nerves and doubts, she felt a growing certainty: her life was changing, and she dared to hope it was for the better.