Page 51
At least, based on the butler taking his card, it appeared his hunt was over, he reassured himself.
The middle-aged butler of average height had heavy footsteps, Philip discovered when the man returned a few moments later.
“Mr. Ridley is not receiving guests,” he intoned.
“Hmm. Were you aware that Miss Annabel Ridley is now the Duchess of Halmesbury?”
The servant’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. “Indeed? I was not aware.”
“Yes, indeed. That means that the Baron of Filminster is now my beloved father-in-law.”
There was a brief flicker of anxiety in the older man’s eyes as Philip stared him down.
“I would hate to report back to the baron, who, if I am not mistaken, is the true master of this household, that I was shown the door when I came to visit.”
The butler looked undecided for a fraction of a second. “Please follow me, Your Grace.”
As the manservant led him down the hall past the main stairs, Philip noted that the townhouse’s furnishings were old-fashioned. The wallpaper was faded, and the carpets worn. From what he knew of the baron, wealth was not an issue, so he assumed the neglect of the home was because of the baron’s isolation in Filminster. Why would he update a residence he never intended to visit, after all?
Moments later, the butler opened a door. Philip stepped into what appeared to be the study, while the butler quickly made a hasty retreat.
A gentleman about twenty-five years of age with a full mane of chestnut curls looked up from the desk where he was writing.
“Who are you?” demanded the younger man, his brandy eyes narrowed in surprise.
“Mr. Ridley?”
“I said, who are you? And what are you doing in my study?”
“I believe this is the study of Lord Filminster, if I am not mistaken.”
“What is this?” growled the man as he pushed his seat back and rose to glower at Philip.
“I have come from Halmesbury to seek your help, Mr. Ridley.”
“I do not know anyone from Halmesbury, so you have the wrong man. I demand you leave this instant. Why did Michaels show you in here?”
“I am the Duke of Halmesbury. I am married to your sister, Annabel.”
The man flinched before flopping back down into his chair.
“Annabel is not my sister.”
“You are Mr. Brendan Ridley?”
The baron’s heir gave a curt nod. He bore a remarkable resemblance to Annabel, causing Philip to feel quite nostalgic. “Then you are Annabel’s brother. My brother-in-law, in fact.”
“Annabel is not my sister.”
“So you have said. Do you care to explain?”
“Not to some stranger who has intruded my home.”
Philip shuttered his expression as he squashed his irritation. First, the man had abandoned his sister to their horrible father, and now he was being an obnoxious dolt. Philip reminded himself he could either get angry or be effective. He was here for Annabel, so … so he smiled politely and continued. “I see. That is fair. I think we should start again. I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Brendan Ridley. I am Philip Markham, the Duke of Halmesbury.”
Philip gave a polite, formal bow. “We need not stand on convention, as quite recently we became related. Call me Halmesbury … or Philip, if you like. I am married to your sister, the fair Annabel, who has missed you these past years, and I am here on her behalf. May I sit?” He gestured at the chairs placed in front of the desk.
The other man sighed in resignation and waved his hand to the seats.
