To Sir Phillip, With Love

“I know you are. I am, too.”

“Sir Phillip,” she said, motioning toward the door, even though he was actually down the hall and around two corners in the dining room. “We had been corresponding for over a year. And then he mentioned marriage. And he did it in such a sensible manner. He didn’t propose, he just inquired if I might like to visit, to see if we would suit. I told myself he was mad, that I couldn’t even consider such an offer. Who would marry someone she didn’t know?” She let out a shaky little laugh. “And then Colin and Penelope announced their engagement. It was as if my entire world flipped sideways. And that was when I started thinking about it. Every time I looked at my desk, at the drawer where I kept his letters, it was as if they were burning a hole right through the wood.”

Anthony said nothing, just squeezed her hand, as if he understood.

“I had to do something,” she said. “I couldn’t just sit and wait for life to happen to me any longer.”

A chuckle burst from her brother’s throat. “Eloise,” he said, “that is the last thing I would ever worry about on your behalf.”

“Anth—”

“No, let me finish,” he said. “You’re one of the special ones, Eloise. Life never happens to you. Trust me on this. I’ve watched you grow up, had to be your father at times when I wanted only to be your brother.”

Her lips parted as something squeezed around her heart. He was right. He had been a father to her. It was a role neither of them had wanted for him, but he had done it for years, without complaint.

And this time she squeezed his hand, not because she loved him, but because it was only now that she realized how very much she did.

“You happen to life, Eloise,” Anthony said. “You’ve always made your own decisions, always been in control. It might not always feel that way, but it’s true.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head as she said, “Well, I was trying to make my own decisions when I came here. It seemed a good plan.”

“And maybe,” Anthony said quietly, “you’ll find that it was indeed a good plan. Sir Phillip seems an honorable sort.”

Eloise couldn’t hide her peevish expression. “You were able to deduce this while you had your hands wrapped around his throat?”

He shot her a superior look. “You’d be surprised what men can deduce about one another while fighting.”

“You call that fighting? It was four against one!”

He shrugged. “I never said it was fair fighting.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“An interesting adjective considering your recent activities.”

Eloise felt herself flush.

“Very well,” Anthony said, his brisk tone signaling a change of topic. “Here is what we are going to do.”

And Eloise knew that whatever he said, it was what she’d be doing. His voice was that resolute.

“You will pack your bags immediately,” Anthony said, “and we will all travel to My Cottage and remain there for a week.”

Eloise nodded. My Cottage was the rather odd name of Benedict’s home, situated not too far from Romney Hall in Wiltshire. He lived there with his wife Sophie and their three sons. It wasn’t a particularly large home, but it was comfortable, and there was certainly enough room for a few extra Bridgertons.

“Your Sir Phillip may come visit each day,” Anthony continued, and Eloise understood his words perfectly to mean, Your Sir Phillip will come visit each day.

She nodded again.

“If, at the end of the week, I determine that he is good enough to marry my sister, you will do so. Immediately.”

“You’re certain you can judge the measure of a man’s character in one week?”

“It rarely takes longer,” Anthony stated. “And if I’m unsure, we’ll merely wait another sennight.”

“Sir Phillip might not care to marry me,” Eloise felt compelled to point out.

Anthony leveled a hard stare at her face. “He hasn’t that option.”

Eloise gulped.

One of Anthony’s brows rose into an arrogant arch. “Do we understand each other?”

She nodded. His plan seemed reasonable—more reasonable, in fact, than most older brothers would have allowed—and if something went horribly wrong, if she decided that she couldn’t possibly marry Sir Phillip Crane, well then, she had a week to figure out how to get out of it. A lot could happen in a week.

Just look at the last one.

“Shall we return to the dining room?” Anthony queried. “I imagine you’re hungry, and if we tarry much longer, Colin is sure to have eaten our host out of house and home.”

Eloise nodded. “Either that, or they’ve all killed him by now.”

Anthony paused to consider that. “It would save me the expense of a wedding.”

“Anthony!”

“It’s a joke, Eloise,” he said, giving his head a weary shake. “Come along, now. Let’s make sure your Sir Phillip still resides among the ranks of the living.”

“And then,” Benedict was saying as Anthony and Eloise reentered the dining room, “the tavern wench arrived and she had the biggest—”

“Benedict!” Eloise exclaimed.

Benedict looked over at his sister with a supremely guilty expression, yanked back his hands, which were demonstrating the size of what was clearly an impossibly endowed female, and muttered, “Sorry.”

“You’re married,” Eloise scolded.