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“Richard’s.”

Annabel was impressed, despite detesting Richard. “He just rose slightly in my estimation.”

“Not when you hear the rest.” Philip pulled a face. “I tasked my man of business to find a suitable companion while I renewed my courtship. Richard remained on hand to guide me each step of the way. After three weeks, Jane seemed happier—I thought we were improving—until one night she took ill after dinner. Mrs. Thorne and Mary were taking care of her while we awaited a doctor, but by the early hours of the morning, she had a raging fever and was delirious. The doctor said we could not do much other than feed her liquids and sponge her regularly. We took turns to keep vigil, although I barely left her room even when I could. That is when I discovered Richard’s true intent in visiting. The reprobate had not enough women in London. He wanted my beautiful Jane, too!” Philip’s voice rose in anger as he recounted. Stopping, he clearly struggled to collect himself. “She started crying out for Richard.”

Annabel stilled in horror. “You mean …”

“Yes, they had clearly started an affair during his visit. So you see, it was not marital relations she could not abide, it was me.” Philip’s face displayed a strange mingle of anger, grief, and shame. “My sweet wife thought I was a beast. She would not stop calling for Richard, crying out how she needed him, loved him, that he could not leave her alone. For hours, I tried to calm her in her delirium while she called repeatedly for another man. Finally, I had Mrs. Thorne seek Saunton out to summon him to the room. Anything to calm Jane down. We met outside this room in the hall, and I told him I knew of the affair and that Jane needed him. The cad denied everything and refused to enter the room. Eventually I returned and pretended I was Richard, taking her hand and comforting her that I was there, and I would not leave her.”

“Oh, Philip! I am so sorry.” Annabel’s eyes moistened at the pain in her husband’s voice. She wanted to tell him to stop his recounting, as it was too painful to bear, but she could not. Philip needed to relate it, and she could not display the depths of selfishness that Saunton had. She must permit the duke to finish his story if he was to achieve relief.

Philip shut his eyes tightly, a lone tear still escaping down his cheek to drip off his chin. “I felt so betrayed, but there was no time to have any feelings about it. My wife was gravely ill. I had to be by her side. It only took another day, with Mrs. Thorne and I doing our best to ease her before she expired. My sweet, darling wife who hated me so, and our unborn child. Both gone before I ever formed a meaningful relationship with her. That is when the rage hit me. I hunted Saunton down—he was still here—and I threw his treacherous behind out. He lied the entire time, protesting that he would never touch the wife of such a close friend. I could still hear Jane calling for him over and over again in my mind while he refused to help. I threw him out the door and told him to never darken my doorstep again.”

Annabel ran a soothing hand over Philip’s chest as he trembled with repressed emotion. “I am so sorry, husband. You suffered far worse at Richard’s hands than I.”

Philip’s eyes were sightless as he gazed into the past, his mind still lost in the mists of time. He took his time responding. “Thank you for giving me a chance to talk. Do you mind if I go for a ride? I need to clear my mind.”

Annabel nodded and slowly rolled away. Philip stood and gathered up his clothes from the night before, exiting through their connecting door.

Annabel looked around her luxurious duchess chambers, filled with warm ivories, rich mahoganies, and splashes of deep red, imagining the beautiful former duchess isolated in these same chambers to avoid her lovelorn duke. Philip’s true love. Her heart sank as she quietly accepted that Philip had, indeed, married Annabel in an act of revenge. She had suspected such since their wedding day, but hearing it confirmed was … depressing.

She brooded on what she would do next. She had chosen the hand she had been dealt, choosing this life with Philip rather than a loveless marriage with Richard as the female equivalent of a cuckold. Was there even a word for a woman who was cuckolded, considering the social norms her father claimed existed for men of Richard’s station? Perhaps the word for a female cuckold was simply … wife? Or, without a doubt, Richard’s wife.

She admitted to herself that she was lost. How was she to guide her marriage into the happy future she had envisioned? She had chosen this path, and she needed to make the best of it. Philip’s experiences were heartbreaking, but now it was time to pick up all of these pieces of life they had and build with them. Being someone’s incarnation of revenge was better than being someone’s cuckold … was it not? She needed to be careful to not pin too many hopes or expectations on her husband. His past clearly haunted him, and he still suffered from the loss of his great love.

She would need to devise a plan for their marriage while not becoming too invested in the outcome, lest she be horribly disappointed. She could not afford another stab to the heart, such as the devastating moment she had discovered Richard in the stables. Despondent, she sat up to peer sightlessly in the direction of the window, lost in a gray interior world of thought.

Was she doomed to never be loved? Did she just not have that quality or beauty that would attract a man’s unfailing adoration? Perhaps the baron was correct about her. Perhaps she was not as unique as Mama had always claimed, but rather, she was just odd. Not to mention small-minded, to be stricken with jealousy of a tragic dead woman.

* * *

Annabel had finally made it back to the library. She had not seen Philip since he had gone riding that morning. Settling into her role as duchess seemed daunting, but with Mrs. Harris excelling in her duties, Annabel resolved to begin her own training in earnest. She picked up a red leather-bound volume of Debrett’s Peerage, trying to ignore the uneasy thoughts that Philip’s revelations about his late wife had stirred. Perhaps understanding the past could help her navigate the future.

She was still absorbed in her thoughts when she heard soft footfalls behind her. A familiar pair of arms encircled her gently. Startled, she jumped slightly, but then relaxed as Philip rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Hello, wife,” he murmured warmly.

Annabel turned to face him, her heart lifting at his affectionate tone. His windswept appearance and bright eyes gave him an invigorated look she had not seen before.

“Hello, My Grace,” she replied, smiling up at him.

“What are you up to, duchess?”

“Spending time with you, I hope,” she answered lightly.

A wide smile spread across his face. Taking her hand, he coaxed her to stand. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, the tenderness in his touch sending warmth through her body.

He led her to the Grecian library sofa and seated her gently before lowering himself beside her. His expression was thoughtful as he gazed into her eyes, his hands encasing hers.

“I have missed you,” he confessed softly.

Annabel’s chest swelled with emotion. “I missed you too.”

He raised a hand to caress her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across her skin. “These past few days have been a storm in my mind, but you bring the calm.”

Touched by his words, she leaned into his hand, closing her eyes briefly before meeting his gaze. Slowly, he leaned in, capturing her lips with his. The kiss was tender but intense as he poured his emotions into the embrace.

They parted, their foreheads resting together. “Philip,” she whispered, “I want to build something good with you, but we must talk more, share more.”