“Your friends are a curious bunch.” His breath ghosted over the back of her neck. “And while I’m glad you will never be lonely for them, I am more glad that their creed did not rub off on you.”
“That my heart did not remain untamed?”
“Hmm.”
Philip pulled lightly on her arm, asking her to turn around. She straightened before him, expecting a kiss. Instead, her eyes fell on a small ring held between his thumb and forefinger.
“It’s a little late for a proposal.”
“Then consider this another gift to mark our marriage.” He twisted the ring in the candlelight. “This was Elinor’s ring, and Graham’s mother’s before her. I had never known such a happy couple, nor such a well-adjusted family as theirs. It was her wish—hiswish—for you to have it. For me to give it to the woman I love. And I do love you, Anna. Try as I have not to fall madly for you, I love you.”
She had longed to hear those words for weeks. She had felt his love even when he hadn’t been brave enough to say it.
Her eyes welled with tears as Philip slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit snugly against her wedding band, like it had belonged there all along.
“I love you,” she said, though it hardly came as a surprise to him. “And I love this new adventure we’re embarking on. I love that we’re going together.”
“With many more adventures to come, Duchess. Now…” He turned her around again, holding her close. “Sing to me a little, while the night is still young.”
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
“La Cenerentola,” Anna read off the program, looking down at the Rossini title. “My French is much improved, but I fear my Italian is still lacking.”
Elinor leaned over, underlining the title with her finger. “I think it means The Cinderella,” she explained, groaning before she reached into her reticule and extracted her binoculars. “Or The… Centurion?”
Anna laughed. “I don’t think those will help you read things from this close. You should swallow your pride and commission some reading glasses like Philip, or perhaps a lorgnette. They don’t look half as bad as you think. We found a wonderful optician just off the Piazza del Popolo.”
“I already bear a tragic resemblance to my brother.” Elinor turned her binoculars from the playbill to the empty stage of the Teatro Argentina. “I will not share his fashion too. Speaking of Philip…”
“Late,” Anna said, flipping open her program. “He took his dinner with George, and it’s anyone’s guess where they have found themselves now. My cousin is an extremely poor navigator—could not find his own left hand. And with Philip still recuperating from France, I doubt he was much help either.”
“He did seem a little weary when we met at the hotel,” Elinor remarked, dropping her binoculars in her lap. She looked no worse for wear despite the long travel to the continent, shining now that she was out of mourning and could wear her best jewels again. “I thought perhaps it had been you who had exhausted him with your… reproductive efforts.” She cleared her throat. “But you’re telling me it is his work that has worn him out so?”
Anna pressed her lips together, pretending to read the program. Elinor had a knack for saying exactly what she thought—and had only become more honest now that she had been released back into society.
Anna had mentioned in passing that she had been hoping for a child. It had been a year since the wedding, and despite their efforts, it had remained just the two of them so far.
She had accepted that it could take some time, and she was more than happy to spend every moment of their wait with her beloved husband. For his part, Philip worried that his injury had done something to hamper their chances. But Anna was convinced it was the stress.
The first months in Paris had been difficult for him—transitioning from colonel to diplomat. Wellington kept him abreast of activities in England, andLe Désirédeveloped a fondness for him that none of them could have anticipated. His high praise of the Wilmington family had reached the Prince Regent, who had invited Philip and Anna to meet with him once they returned to England after their short sojourn in Italy.
It remained to be seen what they would do next. They had built a life for themselves in France, but their home would always be England, where Elinor and George resided, along with the rest of their friends.
“This evening isn’t conjuring up too many bad memories for you?” Elinor asked, cutting through Anna’s thoughts. She nodded toward the stage from their box up on high. “Alicia and whatnot…”
“Oh, I haven’t thought about Alicia for weeks,” Anna confessed, furrowing her brow. “The last I heard from George, she and Vincent were still in London, raising Marco, busy with the theater. George is completely enamored with the baby and visits often. He has a more merciful heart than me. Though, of course, that poor child isn’t to blame for his mother’s actions.”
“Such a shame that George has yet to find a wife of his own. He has a heart made for love. There are not many gentlemen like that.”
“I have heard some things. A woman he has met and?—”
At that moment, Anna felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Philip looming over her, grinning as if he had been gone for a month rather than an hour. George followed through the drapes behind him, bowing to the ladies before taking his seat beside Elinor.
Anna elbowed Elinor and shook her head. A silent warning against prying into George’s love life. Elinor nodded, agreeing for now to keep her questions to herself.
“Your dratted cousin,” Philip cursed as he settled beside his wife. He pulled the program out from beneath him and laid it on his lap. “His Italian is worse than yours. Swore to me he could direct our driver here, who of course doesn’t speak a word of English. We were driving along the Tiber for half an hour before I realized he was taking us toward Laurentino on the other side of the city.”
