Page 52
Philip strode forward. Flicking his coattails, he sat.
“Please explain what you meant when you said that Annabel is not your sister.”
The man looked away, reluctance obvious in his demeanor.
“Mr. Ridley, we are related to each other. I am the soul of discretion, and I care about the members of my new family. I seek to understand what has led to the estrangement between you and your sister. Anything we discuss here is private, and you appear to be a man who may find it favorable to unburden yourself?”
The man swallowed, the only sign he was listening while he stared toward the hearth, the dancing flames reflected in his eyes.
“Mr. Ridley, I believe your mother was a kind and caring woman who would be most disappointed to find her children scattered and bereft. Please, tell me your story. Is the baron involved in the dissolution of your family?”
The man tensed. Philip could sense the younger peer would talk if he waited and, as he had provided him with several good reasons to do so, all that remained was patient silence. Settling back into his chair, he checked himself from saying anything further.
Several moments passed. The silence was so thick that Philip imagined he could hear his own heart pounding.
“I thought Annabel was to marry Richard Balfour?”
“There was an unfortunate incident with the earl and a young maid who worked in your fath—” Philip caught himself. If Annabel did not think of the baron with any sentiment, the likelihood was that his heir would not either. “—the baron’s kitchens,” he finished.
The other man groaned and sank his face into his hands. “Saunton betrayed her?”
Philip gave a quick nod.
“And Annabel knows that?”
“Your sister found them.”
Mr. Ridley kept his face buried in his hands as he gave a moan of distress and shook his head in denial. Philip’s compassion ignited when he realized the brother did, in fact, care about Annabel, even though he had not visited or corresponded with her these past four years. After a few moments, the other man dropped his hands as he looked up to confront Philip.
“I was so afraid of that when he told me of their betrothal. But because of their long-standing relationship, I had hoped my doubts were unfounded. How are you involved? How … do you come to be married to Annabel?”
“She sought me out as a last resort when the baron insisted that the wedding would proceed. I happened to need a wife and Annabel was—is delightful, so … so I …” Philip shrugged. “… rescued her from her situation, I guess you could say.”
Ridley shook his head. “The old devil would have forced her to proceed?” It was a rhetorical question, so Philip did not answer. Pausing for a while, his reluctant host finally continued. “I have heard of you. You are a widower who does charitable works. I believe I read an article in The Gentleman’s Magazine a couple of months back. You … care for Annabel?”
“Indeed, Mr. Ridley. I esteem her with every fiber of my being. She is extraordinary.”
“Yes,” the man did not hesitate in agreeing, “she is.”
They both sat in contemplative silence while Brendan Ridley appeared to take his measure before finally speaking again. “What I say, you will maintain in privacy?”
“On pain of death.”
Ridley drew a deep breath. “For Annabel, I will share with you, but I will kill you with my bare hands if I hear any word of this getting out.”
Philip inclined his head in acceptance of Ridley’s terms. “On pain of death.”
* * *
Annabel was enjoying a visit with the wife of one of their tenant farmers, Mrs. James, who was swollen with child. It could not be more than a matter of days before Mrs. James would usher her babe into the world. It was unexpectedly pleasant to be sitting with the mother of two as Annabel grew accustomed to the idea that her own body would be changing.
Mrs. James was a lively woman in her late twenties with a mass of untamed brown curls attempting to escape her hairpins. She had red cheeks and tanned skin, and her brown eyes sparkled with life as she enjoyed the preserves that Annabel had brought along in a basket of gifts for the family. The little James girl, Hannah, a perfect miniature version of her mother, was shelling peas in a bowl with her tiny hands while her mother watched on like a hawk. The vigilant parent jumped up to join her child at the other side of the crude kitchen table when she noticed something was wrong. Gently, the woman showed her daughter how to shell without squashing the plump orbs. While the two chattered, Annabel took a moment to be nostalgic about her possible future.
As the days lingered with relentless vigor, it felt like the time since Philip had left her behind at Avonmead was infinite. Each second that passed felt like a minute. Every minute an hour. Every hour a day. By the time she laid her head on her pillow each night, it was as if a week had passed since the night before. Annabel’s thoughts had swung every which way as she tried to anticipate what the future would bring. In the past day, she had become convinced that he might abandon her in the country as Richard had planned to do—which she hoped was just a ridiculous notion prompted by the fact that she did not know what was happening with the duke. Talking with the stable master, she had learned that Philip had left for London, which at least explained the midnight departure several days earlier.
Soon it would be Brendan’s birthday, which marked the time they would have begun their holiday traditions and a particularly sad time of the year for her. She had not seen her brother in four years, and it gave her precedent for concern. Could she expect her husband of a few weeks to return to her, or would he abandon her to rusticate, as Brendan had done?
As a wife, she did not legally exist to make her own decisions, and he would decide her fate when he eventually decided to return. She had a babe on the way, but if the duke sent her away to another one of his estates to put distance between them, would he keep the little one here? Did she need to keep her heart disengaged even from her own child, lest it be broken in a few months when she might be forced to part with him or her?
