Page 20 of Miss Ridley and the Duke

“And what of the upcoming wedding, Halmesbury?” Lord Filminster asked, leaning forward with an almost eager curiosity. Philip resisted the urge to grimace. It was clear the baron was warming quickly to the idea of becoming father-in-law to a duke.

“When is Saunton due back in Filminster?” Philip asked, his tone calm and businesslike.

“I believe we will see him in a week or so. He is planning on returning from London to obtain the common license and finish the wedding preparations at the end of the month,” Filminster replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

“Perfect.” Philip leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping as though sharing a confidential suggestion. “What Saunton does not know will not hurt him. What say I visit my good friend, the Most Reverend and Right Honorable Charles Manners-Sutton, to arrange for a special license and return within four days? My solicitor will arrive later today to work out the marriage settlements, and I shall return—say … Saturday morning for the wedding?”

Filminster’s eyebrows lifted, clearly impressed by the duke’s personal connection to the Archbishop of Canterbury. Exactly as Philip had expected. The baron pursed his lips in thought before voicing his primary concern. “But who will inform Saunton?”

Philip kept his tone reassuring. “My solicitor will arrive shortly. Once we finalize the contracts, I will leave for Canterbury. After the wedding, I will send Higgins to deliver a message informing Saunton that Annabel is married, and any questions may be directed to me. You will not need to address the matter yourself, as the entire arrangement will be complete before he is even aware of it. When next you see him, he will have no choice but to treat you with the respect due to your new circumstances.”

The baron visibly relaxed, his shoulders loosening as he absorbed this tidy resolution. Annabel had warned Philip of her father’s preference for minimal effort. His primary concerns revolved around his own comfort and advantage. As long as everything appeared neatly resolved, with no lingering responsibilities, he would yield.

Filminster finally nodded. “As long as Saunton is not a liability, we have an agreement. I will send for my solicitor at once so we can finalize the legalities this afternoon.”

Philip quelled the triumph rising within him, ensuring his features betrayed nothing but polite satisfaction. Annabel was his.

* * *

As Philip exited the study alongside the butler, a curious sensation of being watched struck him. Turning his head, he spotted Annabel peeking around a nearby doorway. Amusement flickered through him as he gestured for the elderly butler to proceed without him. “I will join you shortly,” he said, his voice composed. Once the servant disappeared down the hall, Philip motioned Annabel forward.

She moved quickly to meet him, her muslin day dress swaying as she came to a halt before him. Her hand lightly rested on his forearm—a gesture that was both tentative and surprisingly possessive. She looked up at him, her golden-brown eyes wide with worry, her voice lowered so as not to be overheard. “I could not hear the last few moments of your discussion. Has he agreed?”

Philip allowed himself a faint smile, meant to reassure her. “He has agreed. I am heading upstairs with your man, Stedman, to freshen up before we complete the marriage settlements. I had to promise to take responsibility should Saunton protest.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Is that truly a concern?”

“It is highly unlikely. The last thing Saunton would want is the public scandal that would follow. No, by Saturday morning, you will be my wife, and Saunton will simply have to accept that he has lost.”

Annabel exhaled slowly, her shoulders softening as visible relief washed over her. “I can scarcely believe it. You have made everything right. I am free of him.” She glanced down at her hands for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “You are my hero,” she said, her voice hushed but fervent.

A warmth Philip had not expected swelled within him at her words. Her earnest gratitude and trust were disarming. She had a charm about her—an unpolished but undeniable radiance that made him want to ensure she never regretted placing her faith in him. Silently, he resolved to tread carefully, giving her the space she needed to grow comfortable in their new relationship.

With a gentle touch, he lifted her chin, meeting her soft gaze as he bent to press a light, lingering kiss to her forehead. “I will return Saturday morning,” he said, his voice steady. “Until then, promise me—no more midnight escapades. I want you safe when I return.”

Annabel’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “I will consider it,” she teased, her tone light but fond. “As long as you promise to be on time for the ceremony.”

Philip chuckled softly. “I would not dare be late.”

With a last glance, he turned and strode down the hall, leaving her with a grin that lingered at the corners of her lips. Saturday could not come soon enough.

* * *

Mrs. Harris was preparing tea when Annabel walked into the kitchen. Her plump cheeks wreathed in a wide smile. “I am so happy you are bac—feeling better, miss.” The older woman corrected herself just in time, mindful of maintaining the pretense that Annabel had been unwell and confined to her room. Her sharp hazel eyes darted to the cook and two maids bustling in the background before returning to Annabel. “I expect you want your tea, miss. Shall I bring it to the library?” She gave an exaggerated wink, her lack of subtlety bringing a fond smile to Annabel’s face.

“That would be perfect, Mrs. Harris. And bring some pastries, if you would.”

Annabel was not particularly fond of sweets, but Mrs. Harris adored them, and Annabel had long since made a habit of ordering pastries just to indulge her.

As Annabel made her way to the cozy library on the first floor of Baydon Hall, she marveled that soon she would have access to ten times as many books at Avonmead. Settling into a comfortable velvet sofa near the fireplace, she allowed herself a moment to revel in the thought before Mrs. Harris entered, bearing a tea tray.

“Close the door, Mrs. Harris,” Annabel said in a raised voice, making sure anyone nearby would hear. “I wish to discuss something.” Once the door clicked shut, she gestured for the housekeeper to sit beside her. Pouring tea with practiced ease, she pressed a plate of pastries into Mrs. Harris’s reluctant hands.

“I really should not, my girl,” Mrs. Harris protested half-heartedly.

“We can argue for several minutes, or you can accept them now so that I can tell you my news.”

With a resigned sigh, the older woman settled onto the sofa and took a sugar biscuit from the plate. Her expression softened as she savored the treat, a testament to the cook’s renowned skill.