“Have you already made plans to leave?” Her eyes blazed with fury. “Elinor’s dinner party is in a week. Are you going to abandon us before then?”
The betrayal in her voice would have broken his heart if he had one. Wellington’s offer had been hanging over him like a storm cloud all week. Philip knew he had to tell Anna about it sooner or later. But not now. Not when she was so cross with him and wouldn’t understand why he had to leave.
He stepped back, trying to gather his thoughts, but this only made her reach for him. She lost her balance on the cushions beneath her, and with a cry, came tumbling toward him.
Philip realized too late, bumping into the coffee table behind him. Anna crashed awkwardly into his arms, and he staggered backward under her weight. The force knocked them to the floor, cold tea from their earlier supper spilling all over the carpet.
In the space between the sofa and the table, pain seared through his hip as he shifted onto his side. A jolt ran up the length of his body, knocking the breath out of his lungs with a strangled gasp—as if he had fallen from his horse all over again and could only wait for death.
“Philip,” he heard through the fog of his pain. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened. Are you alright? I’ll fetch someone.”
Her hands were all over him—or at least that was how it felt in the dark behind his eyelids—grabbing his shoulders, his waist, his neck to check that he was fine.
“Stop,” he ordered faintly, groaning as he opened his eyes and tried to lean up on his elbow. “Don’t touch me.”
He didn’t want his staff to see him like this. It was bad enough that Anna was witnessing him in this state.
She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he realized with alarm how they were positioned, her straddling him while he was pinned beneath her, at the mercy of her searching hands. He grabbed one with all that was left of his senses, his fingers looping around her wrist.
“I said stop,” he repeated more forcefully. He groaned and looked behind him. His vest was soaked through with tea, and the carpet fared no better. “I can’t… Get off me. I need a moment before I can move.”
Anna nodded, climbing off him. She kneeled beside him, and while she reached up to grab a napkin and start mopping up their mess, Philip knocked his head against the floor in defeat. A chandelier hung overhead, mocking him as it twinkled in the dying light of the day.
These were the consequences of his actions, keeping her at arm’s length.
“I received a summons,” he confessed, and he felt her freeze. “The Duke of Wellington has a new post for me. I must travel to London soon and give him my answer.”
He couldn’t bear to look at her, but he could hear the confusion in her voice. “Is the post in London, too?”
“No. It’s in France.”
He watched for her reaction. She was motionless on the floor beside him, a stained white napkin balled up in her hand.
Even at her worst, when she was disheveled and seething, he still thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and was mortified by his infirmity—and by his deception.
“Anna…” Pushing past the pain, he forced himself to sit. “Don’t make that face. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
“What does that matter? We both know what your answer will be.” Her hand opened to reveal the stained cloth, and she threw it on the floor. “You’re a colonel first and foremost. And if that wasn’t enough, you said yourself you wanted to leave.”
Something in her tortured expression gave him pause. These weren’t the actions of a jealous woman. She genuinely cared for him. And even though he didn’t deserve it—only wanted to protect her, not be loved by her—he was causing her more pain by pushing her away. There had to be some sort of compromise.
Honey, not vinegar.
“I do not want to leave. But my duty has bound me.” Every fiber of his being protested those words. “Still, perhaps I have been overly cautious with you.”
“Avoiding me like the plague.”
He sighed. “Know when you have won and do not gloat.”
“Forgive me…” she murmured. Her expression lightened, and Philip hated the way it made him feel lighter too. “You won’t immediately say yes, then? You’ll give it some thought? And maybe take a walk with me in the meantime?”
“Now?” He laughed. “I doubt I can stand, let alone walk. But yes, before making my decision, I will speak with Wellington first. And then I will speak with you. I will not leave without your understanding and permission.” He looked down at himself. “If you would…”
Anna nodded, closing her arms around him gingerly and helping him to his feet. Philip leaned on her for support, his leg numb from the impact of the fall. His body tingled with more than nerves as Anna held onto him, settling into something resembling a hug he was powerless to resist.
He placed a hand on her head, using the other to steady himself against the sofa. It was the closest thing to the intimacy they had experienced, and the prospect of leaving her for France became more daunting by the second.
She looked up at him, her eyes round, seeking his approval.
