Page 27 of The Captain's Midwinter Bride
Phillip nodded, his expression contrite.
“Why have you never told me this?” she demanded, suddenly feeling out to sea.
“You hadn’t noticed me.” He lifted a shoulder. “It didn’t seem to matter.”
Annalise shook her head forcefully back and forth. “But it does. I want to remember you too. I don’t recall that night at all.”
“You were wearing blue. A soft blue that set off your dark hair and made your complexion look like fresh cream.”
A fire built in her toes and raced like an inferno throughout her body. She remembered that gown. Remembered that night, but she did not remember him. And that lapse made her angry. Made her horribly sad and upset she had missed out on the chance to see him again. To know him more. To simply converse with him before her father’s impending death made their marriage a necessity to fend off ruin.
“I hadn’t realized you knew Mama before you were married.” Beth looked back and forth between them curiously. “I assumed you met right before you were married.”
“We knew each other, but not well,” Annalise said, pressing a hand to her shaking lips.
Phillip considered her for a long moment, his sapphire eyes now so familiar and dear. “And sadly, we have not had many opportunities to rectify that.”
And he was right. His career with the navy had robbed them both from forming any sort of bond that was not attached to the children they shared. Annalise had been saddened by it, but only as a passing thought. She had missed out on so many years, so many leaves, to truly know and enjoy the man Fate had determined she marry. Aside from the early, lean years of their marriage when Mr. Dalton had stolen her inheritance, Phillip had worked hard to give her a life devoid of the worry and stress she experienced after her father’s death.
But now, now that he was home for good and she was beginning to know him—the real Phillip, not the caricature of a husband she’d sketched in her mind over their long marriage—Annalise realized she finally had the opportunity to give him something in return.
Love. And a home filled to the rafters with the love she now recognized pumped in her veins hot and fast for him. It had always been for him; she had just not known it.
Turning to Beth, Phillip took both of her hands into his large ones. “When did you first notice Mr. Newell?”
Scowling in thought, Beth’s pretty face lit up. “He came to call. Here. I remember being surprised and a bit—”
She broke off so quickly it took Annalise a moment to realize it. Before she could prompt the girl for more, Phillip did.
“And a bit what, poppet?”
Their daughter’s throat worked as she attempted to swallow. “Disappointed.”
“Why were you disappointed?”
“Because he wasn’t Mr. Ramsgate coming to call.”
“Ahh,” Phillip said, as if this explanation was perfectly logical. “And who is Mr. Ramsgate that he left you anticipating his return?”
“Henry Ramsgate is a friend of Oliver’s from London.”
“And am I to guess this foolish young man did not return your regard?” Phillip growled, the perfect replica of a disgruntled father.
Annalise fought back a smile.
A light glinted in Beth’s brown eyes. “Oh, but he did. Or at least he led me to believe he did. But then he traveled to London and never returned.”
It was just as Annalise expected. Beth had been nursing a broken heart, which left her vulnerable to Silas Newell’s charms.
“Has Oliver heard from him?” she asked.
“I’m certain he has, but he has not told me, and I’ve been afraid to ask.” Beth cast her eyes to where her hands lay entwined with her father’s.
“Afraid? What would my brave daughter have to be afraid of?” Phillip asked, his voice gruff but his gaze soft as he studied Beth.
Glancing up, Beth pressed her lips together and shook her head. Annalise draped an arm around her waist in comfort and encouragement, until the girl finally said, “Because what if Oliver knows Henry simply did not want to return?”
And Annalise’s breath caught to hear the pain and uncertainty in her daughter’s voice.
