Page 40
If Saunton had not betrayed Philip, what did this mean for her marriage?
Annabel stood in a flurry of skirts, almost upsetting the pile of books stacked on the long desk. She needed to clear her head. It felt like her entire life—her very hope of future happiness—was evaporating. It was time for a brisk walk.
* * *
The walk had failed to calm her nerves as much as she had hoped. She stood in the corridor wringing her hands, working up her courage. Squaring her shoulders, she pasted on what she hoped was a relaxed smile and walked up to the study door.
“Philip?”
Philip looked up from his work. Sunlight lit his hair into a glorious crown of blond flames, and he appeared bemused as he smiled at her. “Yes, sweet? Are you recovered from all our travel over the last few days?”
“Yes, I am most glad to be home.” Annabel winced in her head while keeping the smile pasted on. Bosh, most glad? “I was wondering if you had ordered a more recent edition of Debrett’s Peerage? It’s just that … the copy in the library … it was published in 1802 …” Annabel was afraid she was mumbling in her attempt to be nonchalant.
Philip looked thoughtful, his mind still on his work, she imagined. “I think we have received a delivery of books. Clinton mentioned something about a crate from Hatchards, which is where my man of business usually fulfills my requests, so it could very well be in that crate. Shall I locate it for you?”
Annabel shook her head. “No need. I will find Clinton to arrange for the books to be brought to the library. I was …” She stopped, uncertain how to continue.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to thank you for patching things up with the baron. Family ties are important. One has to do one’s best to maintain them, even when said family member is a trial,” she quipped, doing her best to appear relaxed. “Do you maintain any acquaintanceship with your late wife’s family?”
“The late duchess? No. Her father was not close with her. We occasionally see each other at Westminster or one of our London clubs and share a drink, but not much more than that. Her mother passed away young, and the earl’s heir presumptive is—was—is her uncle. It was her aunt and uncle who hosted her for the Season when I met her, and I am not aware of any other family members other than their young children, whom I never met. I probably know the uncle better than her father.”
“So, no other immediate family?”
“Not that I am aware. As I mentioned, she was rather unworldly, having spent most of her time away at a tiny finishing school somewhere up north. Why do you ask?”
Annabel shifted from foot to foot before repressing any further visible agitation. “Oh, the situation with the baron just made me think of family and the ties that bind us. I wondered if you had any ties that I should be aware of, as I do my duchess studies.”
He laughed. “Duchess studies, I like that. And, no, the only ties you need to worry about are my brother and avoiding my dear cousin, Richard. There is Richard’s brother to think of, I guess. Have you met Peregrine Balfour?”
She shook her head. It was her understanding that Perry was a rake, as the late Earl of Saunton had been reputed to be. The Saunton apples had not fallen far from that tree, apparently. “As far as I know, Perry does not deign to visit the country. Since the baron has never allowed me out of the county, our paths have never crossed.”
“Yes, well, you may not be missing much. Perry is a skirt-chaser of some renown and grim company to boot. Richard is by far the more charming of the two. I find the Honorable Mr. Peregrine Balfour too arrogant for my taste. And I doubt he will ever settle down, since he has no heir to concern himself with while living for the pleasures of the moment, so no family responsibilities to worry about. Shall we take a ride together later today? I need to clear my head once I have completed this work.”
Annabel nodded, and they made plans, but her mind was racing with other thoughts. Philip did not appear to be aware of Lord Richard Marley, and he had mentioned the Earl of Rowbridge’s younger brother was the heir. She was frightened, restraining herself from wiping her sweating palms, lest Philip notice her distress.
What would happen to them if he learned of Richard Marley and discovered he had made a mistake accusing Richard Balfour?
* * *
Annabel sat at the library desk, staring out the windows at the afternoon sky. She wished she was out there riding in the parklands with her handsome husband rather than sitting here with the most recent edition of Debrett’s Peerage open before her. Apparently, they had updated their typefaces since the earlier edition she had studied. As she had suspected, she had found the entry she knew she would find.
EDWARD MARLEY, Earl of ROWBRIDGE, and Viscount of MARLEY … by whom he had issue 1.—Richard, born March 27, 1796, and died May 15, 1806. 2.—Jane, born March 27, 1796, and died October 9, 1815 …
Jane and her twin would have been only ten years old when the young boy died. It was probable that they had been close, as their mother had passed in 1803, and Philip had mentioned the earl had not spent time with his daughter. Being ill and delirious, the late duchess could well have pleaded for the one person she had shared a genuine bond with. Her brother and twin, Richard Marley.
Annabel dropped her head into her folded arms, feeling wretched, but quickly straightened when she heard Mary arrive with the tea tray. She watched the maid cross the room toward her, with her impressive mane of deep red hair tamed into a tight coiffure at the base of her skull.
“Mary?”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“How long did you serve in the Marley household?”
Mary looked uneasy as she hesitated, placing the tea tray down on the long desk Annabel had made her own. “I started when I was twelve and then came with Her Grace when she married. About thirteen years, I guess.”
“You knew her when she was a child?”
