Page 6 of The Captain's Midwinter Bride
She shook her head. “I plan on taking a hansom.”
“I’ll call for the carriage to be made ready for you. You and Beth should not have to concern yourself with finding a hansom cab on a cold, blustery day when we have a perfectly good carriage you can take instead.”
“It’s really not necessary,” she protested, her voice rising an octave. “I take hansoms whenever I have business about town.”
“Be that as it may, I would feel more comfortable if you took the carriage.”
Phillip’s jaw was firm, his gaze holding hers unwaveringly. Annalise suspected he was braced for more of her objections, and she had several still in mind. She was not used to informing someone of her plans and having them changed without her approval, and it set her teeth on edge. Yet…a strange warmth traveled up her spine and spread across her skin at the idea that her comfort and safety were important to him.
Sucking in a discreet breath, she nodded. “Very well.”
“I’ll make sure it’s available for you when you’re ready to depart.” Rising to his feet, Phillip offered her a crisp bow. “Happy shopping.”
Annalise watched him leave, an odd sort of lump in her throat.
Chapter Three
For what felt like the hundredth time that hour, Phillip glanced up at the clock on the mantle. How had it only been ten minutes?
When he had settled in his immaculate study that smelled of beeswax and cedar an hour earlier, he had been intent on reading his correspondence and studying the mound of ledgers waiting for him on his desk. His older brother, Charles, had written, explaining that each leather-bound book testified to the financial health of his comfortable home in Bristol, as well as the small estate outside Cardigan in Wales that he had purchased five years prior. The solicitor his father, and later Charles, oversaw had sent him quarterly reports of the finances, no matter where he was in the world, and the figures had never induced a single bout of heartburn. But now that he was home, Phillip intended to account for every last penny recorded in the tidy pages of the ledgers.
Yet instead of calculating figures or returning Charles’s letter, Phillip found his ear trained to the street below, waiting for the sound of the bells he insisted the grooms hang on the coach. From her raised brows and pinched lips, Annalise had made it clear what she truly thought about his insistence she and Beth take the carriage to run errands. Phillip knew she was more than capable of navigating around the city on her own. His career had made her independence and resiliency a necessity. His wife was pragmatic, clever, and no-nonsense to a fault, yet he would not abide her discomfort if he could prevent it.
When he heard a knock on the front door, he jumped up and looked out the window. There was no carriage parked on the curb, so who had come to visit?
Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall. Phillip relaxed back in his chair and reached for a piece of correspondence, attempting to appear bored and unperturbed.
A tap sounded on the door a moment before the manservant appeared. “Mr. Newell is here to see you, sir.”
Finally. Phillip masked his surprise. “Please show him in.”
A second later, a tall, lean young man with foppish blond hair and shrewd blue eyes stepped through the doorway. He was dressed stylishly, his clothes tailored and expensive, and his swift bow was crisp and respectful.
Phillip was certain he didn’t like him.
“Mr. Newell,” he drawled, indicating a chair in front of his desk with the wave of his hand. When the young man had taken his seat, he asked, “It was good of you to come to call. I had hoped to meet my daughter’s intended after I had arrived, but it seems you’ve kept a busy schedule over this last fornight.”
The lad smiled, although it did not show in his eyes. “I apologize for not coming to call sooner, sir. Standing for a county seat is quite a busy undertaking, as I’m sure you can understand.”
“Of course,” Phillip steepled his hands in front of his mouth. “But it makes me wonder what other niceties you will push aside for the sake of your political career.”
An awkward pause followed, and Mr. Newell simply blinked at him. Phillip suspected he should not have been so direct with the lad, and yet if he wanted to go on as he intended, it was imperative the young man know how offensive Phillip had found his behavior.
Mr. Newell cleared his throat. “I do apologize, sir, if I made it seem that my campaign was more important than meeting my future father by marriage.”
Phillip brushed away his apology with the flick of his hand. “Tell me more about yourself, aside from your campaign. I feel as if I already know a bit about that already.”
The young man launched into a monologue about his education, moving to Bristol from London, and the early death of his father. He seemed like a decent, if somewhat pretentious lad, and his goals for the future were ambitious. Phillip wasn’t sure how his willful Beth would fit into Mr. Newell’s grandiose plans, but then perhaps it wasn’t up to him to figure it out.
One thing he did notice, however, was how Mr. Newell never spoke of his affection for his daughter, nor what drew him to her. Phillip had every intention of asking him about it when noise on the street snagged his attention, and he jumped to his feet and pushed the drapes aside, peering out to the street beyond. His black lacquered carriage was at the curb, their manservant stepping up to open the door.
And there she was. In a green day dress and a cream cape pulled up to her chin, Annalise looked as fetching as ever. She smiled as she spoke with the manservant, handing him several parcels before she took his hand and stepped from the conveyance.
“Mrs. Dalton has returned,” he said, spinning around and making for the door.
“Oh.” Mr. Newell jumped to his feet and following him to the foyer.
Sailing through the front door a moment later, Annalise appeared, her cheeks rosy from the cold. A spark lit in her eyes when she spied Phillip, but her smile slipped ever so slightly when her gaze landed on Mr. Newell.
