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“Well, you are a Grace, and you are mine.” Philip disguised a shiver of pure pleasure at her affirmative possession of him. He liked … belonging to someone. Nay, he enjoyed belonging to Annabel. She was sweet, assertive, and passionate. Fate was favoring him, and he would grab hold of every moment of enjoyment he could wring from it. He had exited the half-dream world of numbness and private pain he had been living in the past three years, to discover a whole new world of light, colors, and experiences. Overwhelmed, he leaned in to nuzzle her neck, hiding the emotions that must play across his face. How had he secured such a bright light in his empty existence?
“What will you do today?” he queried hoarsely, needing a change of subject to compose himself.
“I will meet the servants properly and ensure Mrs. Harris settles in. If there is time, I shall visit the library and locate all the books I must read to prepare me for my role of duchess. Richard had not planned to take me to London for some time, and I expected to brush up on my Debrett’s and etiquette books once we married. However, that was for the mere role of countess; now I have the much more daunting task of duchess to prepare for.”
Philip embraced her slight form before lifting her to stand next to him. “That reprobate probably intended to keep you in the country forever, lest you meet his mistresses. I do plan to take you to London in the not distant future, so preparing is an excellent step to take. Will you need help?”
“I think I should read the books with the intention of actually learning and practicing. Admittedly, I was not an attentive student when my governess gave me those types of lessons, since the idea of ever using them was far from my mind. I was far more interested in reading novels and books about travel. I would like to practice on you so that you can let me know if I am applying my manners and airs correctly.” She said the last with a haughty enunciation and wave of the hand as if an arrogant old biddy receiving an introduction from a social inferior at Almack’s.
Philip laughed at her irreverent humor, picturing a young Annabel staring out the window during her lessons. “We can do that. I can also have my man of business hunt down an appropriate tutor or companion to assist you in the finer details. Either way, you are my duchess, and I will be right at your side when we introduce you to society. How about I join you in the library so I can pull the books you need, and then you can meet the servants after that?”
“You will be my hero if you climb the ladders for me.”
* * *
As they entered the enormous library, Annabel felt her head would spin yet again. The dizzying heights of two stories of bookshelves were a sight to be reckoned with, the room lit with bright exterior light from the wall of windows on one end. Small, leaded panes made them appear like a million little squares etched on the rich tapestry of blue sky and trees beyond. Latticed wood on the interior formed Moroccan-inspired arches, and a large, exotic medallion high above overlaid the bank of panes. An unexpected architectural feature, but Annabel vaguely recollected from their tour that one of the Markham ancestors had traveled to Northern Africa to engage in trade negotiations on behalf of the Empire. She could almost imagine the whiff of exotic spices as she gazed up at the intricate work that hinted of far-off lands and travel.
Philip pointed out the different sections of the library so she might find her way around the books.
“Do you have a favorite, Philip?”
“I have been much taken with Waverley in recent years.”
Annabel nodded. “A tale of the bonds of friendship and honor prevailing over the wars of men.”
Philip looked at her with appreciation in his eyes. “I like Edward had a mind of his own.”
“It surprises you I have read it. The men in my life have provided poor examples to look up to. I have to read novels to find my mentors.”
“Reading broadens the mind. Here at Avonmead, you will have plenty of opportunity to broaden your mind even further.”
“Good gracious, I doubt I can make a dent in this gargantuan library. I have never seen so many books in one place.”
“You did not tell me what your favorite book is?”
“That is a difficult decision. I love Pride and Prejudice, as it is so inspiring, but recently I enjoyed Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, although it was very dark.”
“Ah, perhaps the two books should be melded together. Pride and Prejudice and Monsters, if you will.”
Annabel giggled. “That would be most enjoyable. Perhaps Wickham could secretly be the monster!”
“Indeed. Wickham could steal Lydia away to keep her in a dungeon for Mr. Darcy to rescue,” he countered.
Annabel’s laugh was full and unapologetic, but faltered as Philip stared down at her with a happy grin spread across his face. Several seconds passed before he spoke. “Wait here, and I will collect the volumes you need.”
Philip took to the spiral wooden staircase that led to the second level. He hunted around the shelves, the lower half of his body obscured by the wooden bannisters of the landing that embraced the three walls of books. An edifying moment hit her—as lady of the manor, she now had part ownership of all this magnificence of knowledge. She felt the need to pinch herself to ensure this moment was real.
Soon Philip descended the winding stairs with an armful of books. He set them down on the long desk below the wall of windows and placed the two volumes of Debrett’s Peerage on the top. “This set is a little out of date, so I will arrange for a newer edition. Fortunately, as my duchess, almost everyone you meet with will be your social inferior, which makes maintaining correct protocols far simpler than the role of countess.”
“Nevertheless, I believe I will need to memorize quite a bit. Thank you for assisting me.”
“Wife, it is my pleasure,” he said as he grabbed her by the waist to embrace her with affection. “Feel free to conduct your studies here in the library. This desk has ample light for a long part of the day, so you may find it the best location for reading. Or that sofa near the window.” He pointed out a sumptuous Morocco leather sofa with mahogany framing. “Despite how elegant it looks, it is actually rather comfortable for a prolonged visit in the library.”
He settled a quick kiss on her forehead and left the room. Annabel stood staring after him as he reached the carpeted corridor, listening to his muffled steps retreating down the hall as she huffed in pure contentment. Breathing in the smell of aging leather and paper, she took in the brilliant view of the parks behind the manse and the interior two stories of bibliophile heaven. Bouncing in glee, she took up a spot next to the desk at the window to survey the assorted books. Her husband had selected reading befitting a new duchess of the realm.
* * *
Annabel and Philip were enjoying a lively discussion about correct forms of address. Annabel, who could not make sense of some of the finer points of society etiquette, was arguing over her soup, waving her spoon about to emphasize her reasoning. In her opinion, the rules bordered on the ridiculous and illogical, laden with minute nuances that could get a young woman pinned as a social pariah. Philip had stated his rejoinders based on tradition, and there had been fair points to his arguments.
