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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 naïve. 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.”
