Page 13 of The Captain's Midwinter Bride
A man of slender build with greying hair considered them with a slight smile on his thin lips. His attire was rich and exquisitely tailored, and in his hand he grasped a glass of brandy. Annalise longed for a glass, if only to inebriate herself against the spectacle the newcomer was bound to create.
Phillip narrowed his eyes. A prolonged spell ticked by before he said, “Mr. Thompson. Err, Thompkins. Forgive me.”
“Thank you for the kind greeting, Mr. Thompkins,” Annalise murmured, seeking to confirm her husband’s thoughts. “We are all very happy Captain Dalton is home to stay and just in time for the wedding.”
The man had always made her uncomfortable, and she’d done her best to avoid him at social events where he was also a guest. Without thought, she reached out to grasp Phillip’s hand. He responded immediately, threading their fingers together as if they’d done such a thing for the whole of their marriage. Yet she struggled to maintain her poise as she felt his heartbeat through the palm of his hand.
Thompkins tilted his head. “But I heard Captain Dalton hadn’t planned to stay in Bristol indefinitely.”
Whatever was the man on about?
She jerked her head to Phillip, her gaze searching. But his attention remained fixed on Mr. Thompkins, a pleasant expression on his face. “At some point I would like to sojourn to my estate in Wales. I have not decided when that will be, though.”
Annalise suddenly found it hard to draw breath.
Taking a step closer, Mr. Thompkins’ mouth twisted into a smirk. An altogether worrisome smirk that made dread churn in her belly. “Lamley said he overheard one of your grooms say the travel carriage had been ordered ready to depart after the holidays.”
The travel carriage?Annalise darted a glance again at her husband.
“I hadn’t realized my actions were of such importance to the neighbors,” Phillip said, his tone inching on annoyance.
“Perhaps that was not well done of me to share,” Thompkins said, ducking his head. “But seeing as how Mrs. Dalton is a favorite amongst the social circuit here in Bristol, her friends would be disappointed if she were to leave.”
Her friends, or Mr. Thompkins? Annalise knew the answer. But she refused to look at the man. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his revelation had upset her. Instead, she studied her husband. The real man responsible for her hurt.
Clearing his throat, Phillip said, “My wife has been the most patient and resilient of women to raise our children and keep our house during my many absences. I wouldn’t dream of pulling her away from her friends and the place where she’s forged a life. If she wants to join me, I would love her company, but she is welcome to remain in Bristol if she chooses.”
“So the choice is hers, then?”
Locking gazes with Annalise, he nodded. “She will always have a choice.”
So it was true. Phillip planned to leave her behind in Bristol. Again. He wanted to live his own life in Wales.
She had only visited the small estate once several years ago when he had been on leave, and she had fallen in love with the countryside. With the rolling green hills and the jagged seaside cliffs. The air had smelled of salt and wildflowers, and the sky was the bluest blue she had ever seen. Annalise had been convinced she’d stumbled upon the land of theTylwyth Teg, the Welsh fairy folk whose tales Oliver and Beth liked to read about as children. Ever since that holiday, Annalise had been pining to visit the cozy manor that lay on the estate again, and now Phillip had plans to retire there. Without her.
Always without her.
An ugly thought occurred to her, and Annalise swallowed uncomfortably as she considered it. Was it possible Phillip decided to retire to Wales after the truth of his father and brother’s deception had been brought to light in an effort to brush it under the carpet? His life was comfortable now. Perhaps he would rather forget the manner in which she struggled all those years before?
Yet he declared she had a choice to accompany him or remain behind. Annalise didn’t want a choice. She wanted Phillip towant herto come with him to Wales because she was his wife and she belonged at his side.
She wasn’t certain she had the courage to ask to accompany him.
But even if she had the courage to tell him what she really thought of his departure to Wales, she would not do so in front of Mr. Thompkins. The Mr. Thompkins who delighted in bragging about his wealth and many connections to well-born members of thetonin London, including his cousin, an earl. He strutted about every social gathering like a peacock displaying its plumage, although she was certain he lacked the brains of such a bird. The pompous man had also carried a spiteful grudge against her since she had declined his offer of an affair years earlier. He had proven she had good reason to feel uneasy with his friendly words.
Thus, Annalise was not about to let him see just the sort of discord he had uncorked.
Summoning a footman with a jerk of her head, she raised her brows at both Phillip and Mr. Thompkins. “I adore the Welsh countryside and would like nothing more than to visit it again.”
Let the men make of that statement what they would.
Mr. Thompkins continued to rattle off nonsensical remarks, but she paid him no heed. Her attention had been captured by the man sitting next to her. Phillip maintained his silence, but his thumb squeezed her hand, before rubbing across her knuckles. Her thundering heart slowed at his touch, and that irritated her. She clung to her annoyance. She deserved her simmering anger.
Yet holding hands with him in this manner was the most intimate moment of her life.
While the party continued about her, Annalise’s every iota of concentration was focused on where Phillip touched her…and all the other places she wished he would touch her. She was furious with him, but his touched fanned the flames until she couldn’t tell the difference between her anger and her arousal.
Her attention was snapped when Phillip’s voice broke through her heated thoughts. “Beth, dear, that was lovely. Don’t you agree, Mr. Thompkins?”
