“It’s alright,” he whispered, his throat dry.
“If I think it’s what is right for you, then I will let you go.” Her voice vibrated against his chest. “No more games, and no more fighting.”
She held him tighter, and for that moment at least, he let her.
CHAPTER22
With a quickness Philip hadn’t expected from her, Elinor snatched the goblet of punch from his hands. She clicked her tongue and snatched another goblet from Roger Courtenay, a bead of punch clinging to his mustache.
“Gentlemen, we mustn’t start drinking before the rest of the guests have gathered,” she cried over the tumult in the room. “Your patience will be fully rewarded once the Baron Henfield and his brother arrive. There is water and cordial on the side table by the door.”
“Your guests are dying of thirst, sister.” Philip gestured around the room, while Roger laughed. “A spot of punch to rejuvenate them would not go amiss.”
“From the sounds of things, they need no encouragement.” Elinor furrowed her brow. “I had quite forgotten how relaxed things are in the country…”
So far relaxed that Philip could barely hear Roger over the other guests. They counted over fifty heads that evening, neighbors and friends who had dispersed themselves over Cotoneaster, but were mainly concentrated in the drawing room Elinor had outfitted for their pre-dinner entertainment. The manor shined with candlelight that evening, the austere and lofty rooms giving off a surprisingly warm glow in anticipation of the final dinner guests.
“You should consider enlisting Lady Kirkby,” Roger joked, dusting his hands off now that his drink had been stolen. “A force to be reckoned with, certainly.”
“Elinor likes things done a certain way and takes no prisoners.” Luckily for him, she had been much friendlier since he and Anna had started to see eye-to-eye. Whatever made Anna happy made his sister happy too. “You should prepare yourself for the dinner. It is a martial affair, conducted with a precision that would make Nelson weep.”
“Speaking of martial affairs…”
“I see you are wasting no time, Courtenay.”
Roger raised his hands in defense. “Allow me this one impropriety before Elisabeth returns to me. I shall be a perfect dinner guest from here on out, with no more mentions of business and war.” He smiled when Philip gave him leave to continue. “Have you reached a decision concerning the commander?”
“Not yet.” Philip glanced over his shoulder, wondering where Anna was. “I must speak with Wellington first and iron out the details. My respect for the commander is limitless, but I cannot upend my life at a moment’s notice.”
“Of course.” Roger nodded, shaking out his shoulders. “Well, now I am satisfied. I see Elisabeth by Lady Kirkby’s beloved cordials. She enjoys a French grenadine—she has an insatiable sweet tooth. We shall reconvene later, Colonel—Your Grace.”
Philip watched Roger retreat with a spring in his step. He scanned the room for guests he recognized, surprised by the sea of familiar faces that greeted him. Some of these people had been close with his father, and he made a point of remembering their titles so he could avoid them later.
To his surprise, George stood at the back of the room beside Simon. He had known Elinor had invited his friends, but he had not expected George to attend the party that evening. He wore a tortured look, and Philip swallowed his pride, determined to make amends for the sake of Anna… just as Elinor swept back in beside him, tapping him on the shoulder.
“There will be time to air your grievances with Georgie later,” she said, with scary perception. “I don’t know what’s keeping Anna. Would you go and fetch her? First impressions matter, and the guests will be heartened to see her enter by your side. I take it you can suffer two minutes alone with her?”
“You’re a bad influence on her.”
“Oh, the worst.”
Philip hovered at the bottom of the grand staircase, listening to the muted conversations drifting from the drawing room close by. He imagined his sister putting her hosting skills to use, navigating the room with unparalleled ease, artfully dodging questions about Graham and his demise.
A sound caught Philip’s attention—a thud from the landing above. He took a few steps and waited for Anna to appear. When she did, unscathed, the sight of her took his breath away.
The ivory gown she wore that night would have suited a princess, let alone a duchess. Its sheer overlay shimmered in the light as she moved toward him, her hair pinned up in a way that accentuated the fullness of her face.
“What are you doing here?” she asked from above him, her hand sliding down the railing as she descended.
“Elinor’s bidding, of course.” Philip cleared his throat and looked away. “She was concerned you were taking so long to arrive and requested we enter the party together.”
He extended his hand when she reached the bottom, cursing his juvenile nerves as she waited for a few seconds before taking it.
They had been on much better terms recently, at the expense of a priceless Elizabethan rug. Philip had taken a few meals with his wife and sister, and had even taken Anna on that walk. She had been on her best behavior, telling him about her plans for Cotoneaster, overcorrecting her posture, not saying a word out of turn, let alone trying to hold him again.
“Did you knock into something?” Philip asked to fill the silence. “When you were upstairs, I heard a sound.”
“Oh…” Anna huffed, gesturing vaguely behind her. “I was checking my buttons on the way down and bumped into a table in the hall. I think something came undone once Cari left. But it’s too small for me to grasp, and I can’t…”
