Page 14 of The Captain's Midwinter Bride
Jerking her head back, Annalise realized her daughter had surrendered her spot on the pianoforte, for her and Mr. Newell had come to join them.
“I’ve always said she played like an angel,” the vile Mr. Thompkins said, pulling on his lapels and puffing out his chest. “Hopefully Mr. Newell realizes what a gem he has managed to secure.”
“I should hope so.” Phillip turned a critical stare on the young man standing by Beth’s side.
She felt a twinge of sympathy for Beth’s beau, but the sensation was fleeting. The young man had been avoiding her husband for most of the night, and it was time for him to line up for his inspection. Phillip was stern but fair, and if Mr. Newell could not withstand a few minutes of critical review, then perhaps he wasn’t a strong enough man to marry Beth.
“Oh, I’m well aware that Miss Dalton is far above me in every regard,” Mr. Newell said, directing an ingratiating smile at Beth.
Sliding her gaze to Phillip, Annalise wondered what he thought of his declaration.
Phillip’s face was a mask of indifference, and her heart squeezed once again for the young man, who was obviously doing his best to impress her husband. But it was too little too late to secure Phillip’s good opinion with such means, it seemed.
Thankfully, Mr. Thompkins excused himself to join a card game on the far side of the room, and Annalise would have wagered on the man’s disappointment to not have generated the tempest he desired.
Phillip abruptly kicked out a chair and pinned Mr. Newell with a stare before he jerked his chin. “Take a seat.”
Mr. Newell’s eyes grew wide, and he sank onto the chair like a millstone. Beth scowled, but Annalise shot her a quelling look, and the girl pressed her lips together and sat silently next to her fiancé.
“Mr. Newell, you will have to forgive me if I rattle off questions I failed to ask you earlier today.” Phillip spread his hands on his thighs. “I was distracted by Mrs. Dalton’s return.” With a large swallow, Mr. Newell nodded.
Phillip crossed one leg over the other. “Tell me, how do you expect to keep my daughter in the lifestyle she is used to?”
Mr. Newell’s gulp was audible. “I work as a clerk to a barrister in my late father’s—”
“A clerk?” Phillip ever so slightly wrinkled his nose.
“My father believed everyone should start at the bottom and work his way up by his own merit,” Mr. Newell responded, with a slight tinge of panic to his words.
“And have you worked your way up?”
The question sailed from Annalise’s lips before she knew what she was about. She resisted the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth.
Thankfully, Phillip did not seem perturbed by this, as he nodded his head encouragingly.
“I’ve been promoted to researcher. I’m confident I will be promoted to counsel soon enough.”
“Excellent.” Phillip leaned back in his chair, the picture of disinterest. “And what do you expect of Beth as a wife, aside from managing your household and providing you with beautiful children to carry on your name, et cetera?”
It took everything in Annalise’s power not to laugh at the look of boredom featured on Phillip’s face. She knew it was a ploy, knew it was to get under Mr. Newell’s skin, and yet Annalise found it wildly attractive.
Knowing Phillip, her husband, versusknowingthe Captain Dalton who interrogated their future son-in-law so expertly were two very different things.
“I’m standing for political office.” Mr. Newell directed his gaze to Beth. “My hope is that Beth will help my campaign by hosting dinners, salons, fundraisers, and the whole gamut of political events.”
“And how do you feel about that, my dear?” Phillip looked directly at Beth, his expression soft. “Doyouwant to be a political wife?”
With her luminous brown eyes, Beth darted her gaze between Annalise, her father, and Mr. Newell. The heightened color in her cheeks and the frantic expression manipulating her face made it clear she did not know how to respond, and that angered her. Beth had always been confident enough to speak her mind—what had changed?
“I suspect Beth would be more comfortable stepping into the role if she were to have someone she could learn from.” She nodded. “And we may have solution for you.”
“What sort of solution?” Mr. Newell asked.
“We’ve hired Beth a tutor,” Phillip shared, as if the tutor had already been acquired.
Beth frowned. “A tutor? What sort of tutor?”
Annalise grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “A tutor to teach you what will be required of a political hostess.”
