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“Papa to you, Halmesbury.” Philip fought to keep his hand down at his side so he would not slap the obsequious man across the face. Thunder ’n turf, he could not wait to rejoin his wife!
The baron’s eyes were glassy with drink as he continued talking. Philip made an effort to pay attention. “I was just telling my friends here how you bargained for that flibbertigibbet daughter of mine as if she were a prize thoroughbred at Tattersall’s, rather than the hoyden we all know her to be here in Baydon.”
Fiery anger rose through Philip’s chest, and he was pretty certain his ears had turned a deep red as he struggled to hold his temper under control.
* * *
Annabel had left the stuffy drawing room through the terrace doors. The gossiping women of the baron’s circle had quickly grown tiresome. The whole evening had been tiresome from the outset. She wished she had known to expect such a large gathering of Filminster’s favorite people so she could have prepared herself to meet them. These were the local gentry whom Filminster loved mostly because he was superior in rank to all of them, which meant they all sallied up to him with sycophantic fawning that the baron loved. How her mother and he had coexisted in a marriage, begetting not one but two children, she could not work out. Lady Filminster had been a wonderful, down-to-earth woman who found every person she met worthy of her interest. The opposite of Lord Filminster’s vanity.
She was hovering outside the open windows of the billiard room, but was planning on leaving because of the nauseating cigar smoke wafting through the window, when she heard him. She had only heard her husband raise his voice once before, the night Richard had barged in on their intimate supper. He had mentioned losing his temper with Richard when Jane had died, but other than that, she would have staked her life on the fact that the duke was the epitome of social manners, a beacon of etiquette and good breeding.
“Filminster, you blustering buffoon! That is my duchess you just disrespected!” Philip roared so loudly that the windows seemed to shake with the force of it. He must have calmed himself, as his voice had dropped a couple of octaves when he spoke next, but the anger was still evident in his loud umbrage. “Her Grace is a diamond, and it is your loss to not enjoy her exquisite charms. It is my mistake to bring her here. A classic case of ‘cast not your pearls amongst swine.’ I am taking my lovely wife home to where she is appreciated.”
A door banged loudly. Philip must have stormed from the room. Annabel stood with her clenched fist pressed against her mouth in wonderment. She could not deny in that moment that she loved what Philip had just done. Nay, she loved him. He was magnificent, springing to her defense. Her chest heaving with excitement, she raced back to the drawing room and entered from the terrace as Philip entered from the hall and swung his head around, looking for her in the large room. Spotting her, he strode over, raised her hand, and placed a gentle kiss on her gloved fingers, spreading warm tingles up her arm. “Shall we go home, wife?”
She grinned from ear to ear, elated at his consideration. “Someone once told me that there were fates worse than death awaiting overnight riders.”
“I shall arm the footmen and coachman and tell him to drive like the wind. Like the very hounds of hell are chasing us. It is excellent weather with a full moon, and I think my wife deserves to sleep in her own bed,” he whispered, so curious onlookers in their colorful evening dresses could not overhear. “I will inform the men and meet you upstairs to change.”
“What of the baron?”
“What of him? You can see him if you like, or you cannot see him. The choice is yours but, for tonight, he no longer has the pleasure of your company.”
“Well, My Grace, that all sounds lovely. However, the baron’s world is uncommonly small, and these people’s cloying admiration is enormously important to him. So, you are going to have to go back in there with the men and make a ribald remark about newlywed men being cranky from lack of sleep and make some sort of public apology to restore his credibility with them.”
Philip groaned. “Stuff! Please do not ask me to do that!”
“It will be fine. You are a duke, so they will just assume you are eccentric. But pull my father aside and—privately, as you should have done—inform him you will tolerate no more disrespect to me.”
“He will decide for sure that I am an uxorious husband.”
“Not uxorious, duke, just a good man who is going to feel guilty if he does not repair this now. The baron is a weak man. The embarrassment will have too much impact on his self-esteem. It has extra force when a set down comes from a man as important as you. I appreciate the stand you made, but we cannot leave him publicly humiliated. I doubt he will ever have the bravado to insult me in your presence again after what just happened.”
“How do you know what just happened?”
She threw him an unrepentant smile. “I was hoping to beckon you into the gardens, so I happened to be listening at the window.”
Philip’s gaze swept over her face before he gave a defeated sigh. “I am doing this for you, not him. He is your family, so it is your right to dictate how we deal with him … within reason.”
Annabel beamed in elation. Her husband cared about her. Deeply, from all appearances.
* * *
As their well-sprung carriage flew through the morning light, Annabel had time to take stock of the revelation that she had fallen in love with her wonderful, heroic husband, who rescued children and stood up for her honor.
It was inevitable. She may have fallen in love with him that very first day when he had courted her with his proposal. The duke was so deserving of love. He did much for his tenants, his local community, and even the great town of Halmesbury.
How could she not adore such a man? A husband who honored his commitments and stayed true to his marriage vows. A husband made miserable by a failing marriage who had fought to win his late wife, staying at her bedside to comfort her while she pleaded for another man. And pretending to be that other man in her last hours on this earth as a mercy on her deathbed.
She loved Philip with all her heart, all his strengths and his weaknesses, and she wanted to be his true wife—to comfort him when he needed mercy, to admire him in his fortitude, to witness his achievements and contribute to his success. Pure devotion coursed through her body. It elated her to be near the one she loved most.
“What?”
She tilted her head at him, puzzled.
“You have been staring at me since we left Baydon Hall. It has been almost an hour,” Philip grumbled.
“I was just thinking about how wonderful you are.”
