Page 10 of The Captain's Midwinter Bride
She paused. “He seems to be.”
“You appear unconvinced.”
Because she was. More times than not, Annalise thought Mr. Newell was condescending to Beth. If she were truly being honest, she often believed he treated her daughter like a child. That was not the same as kindness. But Beth was happy—or seemed happy—and whenever Annalise had broached the subject in the past, her headstrong daughter had ended the conversation.
She caught Phillip’s expectant gaze and realized she had not responded. Biting the inside of her cheek, she weighed what to say. “I’ve tried to trust Beth’s judgement. And he does seem…taken with her.”
“But does that translate to respect?” Phillip rubbed a hand along his chin. “Marriage is a lifelong commitment, and an infatuation can wane. Respect for one’s spouse is a solid foundation for a long marriage.”
Did that mean Phillip respected Annalise? He had always made her feel respected and valued, which was why, with the truth of his father’s duplicity revealed, she didn’t doubt her husband’s character.
Still, now that she was older and had more time to reflect on her life, and her own wants and desires, she pondered if perhaps she could still experience a grand love story with her husband.
Annalise studied her husband’s handsome face. Could love grow from mutual respect and admiration? She was not sure, but seeing Phillip’s concern for Beth and her future made Annalise’s chest feel tight.
Licking her lips, she chose her words with care. “I believe someone can be smitten, even in love, and also respect the person. I’d even say it’s impossible to truly love someone without also respecting them.”
Phillip crossed his arms over his chest, his regard potent and unwavering. She felt hot all over.
Smoothing her hands down her skirts, she said, “I suppose you’ll get to see for yourself how Beth and Mr. Newell interact tomorrow night. And afterwards, I’d be very curious to hear your thoughts.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Count on it.”
Chapter Four
Phillip was under the impression that dinner at the Newells’ would be an intimate affair. Just the immediate families gathering together to celebrate the upcoming nuptials.
Yet, instead of the small party he had anticipated, the Newells had also invited several neighborhood families to attend. Their festively adorned townhouse was filled with the loud hum of holiday music, conversation, and laughter, which made it difficult to speak with any one person for any meaningful amount of time. Phillip was not pleased. His socializing skills required refinement, and engaging in mundane conversations in such an environment made him long for the quiet of a moonlit deck, with only the occasional whistles from the crow’s nest to distract from the rocking waves.
But he did his best to be attentive and affable, for these neighbors had assisted his family during his many leaves at sea. He actually thought that perhaps he could forge friendships with several of the gentlemen in attendance. They seemed like honest, hard-working men who valued their families and community, just like him.
What annoyed him was that he had hoped for another opportunity to take the measure of the young man who was to be Beth’s husband, and he had not been able to speak more than a handful of words with him. Phillip watched Mr. Newell laugh and converse with other guests, but the young man had never strayed more than a few steps from Beth’s side.
If he were the suspicious type, he would almost believe Mr. Newell was avoiding him. And unfortunately for the young man, his career had molded him into exactly that.
He now sat in an armchair near the roaring fireplace, the mantle bedecked with evergreens and blazing candelabras, as well as an elaborate display of Christmas cards. The other guests chatted, took turns on the pianoforte, and engaged in a game of whist. The gentleman who had been discussing the state of local politics with him had wandered off, and Phillip was left with his thoughts.
Pinning his gaze on Beth, he watched as Mrs. Newell implored her to play the pianoforte. His daughter preened at the request, her ebony curls glinting under the candlelight and her dark eyes sparkling to have the room’s attention on her. With a smile at Mr. Newell, who arranged the sheets of music for her, Beth launched into a graceful rendition of “I Cannot Sing the Old Songs” by Claribel, her low soprano voice skipping along the notes and bringing them to life.
Mr. Newell observed her with a slight tilt to his mouth, every bit of his attention trained on Beth and the movement of her fingers across the keys. He certainly looked like a man in love, but Phillip would not be so easily convinced.
“You’re scowling, Captain Dalton.”
Phillip glanced to his left to discover his wife now occupying the damask armchair next to his. She looked resplendent in a sapphire blue evening gown that set off the rose hue of her complexion and turned her brown eyes into deep pools of rich sienna. With her mahogany locks pulled into an artful coiffure that showcased her still flawless cheekbones and firm jawline, Annalise was enchanting. So beautiful she left him a bit breathless. And not beautiful because she appeared younger than her age, but beautiful for being exactly her age.
That she still addressed him, had even accompanied him to a social event after their tense luncheon the previous day, made gratitude swell in his chest. He would endeavor to deserve her grace. And trust.
Forcing his eyes from her, Phillip returned to watching Beth’s performance on the pianoforte. “I had no notion I was scowling. I certainly have no reason to scowl.”
“Oh, I’m certain that’s not true,” she said, a smile in her voice.
Phillip knew better than to contradict her. He gestured to their daughter at the pianoforte. “Beth is an accomplished musician. And I had forgotten what a lovely voice she has.”
“She is. She has spent many long hours practicing to make it so.”
“And you spent many long hours being tortured as she perfected her craft.”
Her throaty chuckle caused the hairs along his arms to rise to attention. “In the beginning, yes. The practice sessions weredefinitelytorture. Thankfully, my eardrums survived the abuse.”
