oices surrounded me, but I could not make sense of them. I was crying too hard to make sense of anything. When my father bent over and set me on a chair, I refused to let go of him. He knelt beside me and patted my back while I buried my face in his chest. He loved me. I knew it. I knew it as soon as I saw the look in his eyes. I did not know why he was here or how he had found me, and I did not, in this moment, care. All I cared to know was that he was here, and he had found me, and that he loved me.

When he asked me if I was hurt or needed a doctor, I shook my head and wiped away the tears so I could see him more clearly. We were in the taproom of the inn, but I ignored everything else around me while I took in the sight of my father’s face. His hair was grayer than I remembered, and there were more wrinkles around his eyes, but he looked healthy.

I had so many questions I didn’t know which one to ask first. Before I had a chance to say anything, though, the door of the inn flew open and William strode in. When his gaze landed on me, he stopped.

“You found her,” he said to my father with obvious relief in his voice. “Where is the scoundrel?”

My father gestured toward the parlor. “In there. Sir Philip is taking care of everything.”

Sir Philip? My Sir Philip?

“Alone?”

My father nodded. “He insisted.”

I looked from one to the other. I knew what this meant. My honor and reputation had been compromised when Mr. Beaufort abducted me. And now it was within my father’s rights to challenge him to a duel. But it was not Philip’s responsibility to risk his life for me.

I could not sit by knowing what was happening in the next room. It was not a woman’s place to witness a duel, but I nevertheless hurried across the taproom and pushed open the door of the parlor, intending to stop the duel immediately. I froze in the doorway.

I didn’t dare make a sound. Mr. Beaufort was standing very still with his back to the fireplace. Philip stood with the tip of a sword pressed into Mr. Beaufort’s throat. I saw another sword on the floor. Neither gentleman looked toward the door. Philip looked perfectly in control, his sword bending the skin of Mr. Beaufort’s neck without piercing it. When he spoke, though, his voice sounded so fierce I hardly recognized it. “Tell me what you did to her.”

“I made sure you wouldn’t want her anymore.”

“I will always want her,” Philip said in a quiet, furious voice. “Always! There is nothing you could do to change that.”

Mr. Beaufort sneered. “Then why do you want to know?”

“Because I would never make her say the words. And because I want to know how much I should enjoy running you through.”

“Stop!” The word felt ripped from me.

Both men looked at me. I nearly started sobbing again at Philip’s expression, for it matched my father’s. I turned my gaze to Mr. Beaufort, because I couldn’t bear to look at Philip. I walked toward them, trembling so much that I had to clench my hands into fists.

“He’s a liar,” I said, stopping next to Philip. “I will not allow him to ruin me in reputation after I kept him from ruining me in truth. He did nothing but kiss me.” I lifted my chin and thought of how disdainful Grandmother could look. I hoped I looked just like her. “And it wasn’t even a good kiss—it was vile. But it was all he did.”

Mr. Beaufort’s face turned dark red, and he looked as if he would love nothing more than to have his hands around my neck. But after a moment, he dropped his sullen gaze in a gesture of defeat. I wanted to laugh with triumph, but I was afraid I might end up crying instead. I looked up at Philip.

“Even if he does deserve to be run through, I don’t want his death on my conscience. Just hurt him a little, if you please, to remind him of this night.”

Philip looked at me for a long moment. There were so many emotions in his eyes that I couldn’t begin to decipher them all.

“He kissed you?” Anger threaded through his voice.

I nodded. His gaze rested on my mouth. The look of leashed fire returned, as if Philip was barely holding his passions in check. I couldn’t help noticing that he looked very handsome with that flash of danger in his eyes.

With hardly a glance at Mr. Beaufort, Philip flicked his wrist, his sword moving so fast there was just a blur of steel and then a dark red line appeared on Mr. Beaufort’s face, drawn from his chin, through his lips, to the side of his nose.

He swore and pressed the cuff of his sleeve to his mouth. The lace immediately turned crimson.

I stared, a little appalled at what I had caused.

“Is that sufficient?” Philip asked me, and I saw, over everything else waging for dominance within his eyes, a gleam of admiration.

“Yes. Now can you make sure he leaves the country?”

“I will. Is there anything else you want?” He was smiling now, smiling into my eyes, as if I held the whole universe in my hands. I was close enough to see everything, and I discovered in his eyes, and in his smile, that Philip had his own secret. One that was shining so brightly—as brightly as sunlight over water—that I caught my breath, dazzled by the brightness.

Just as I had been sure of my father’s love when I had looked into his eyes, I was sure of something else in this moment. I was certain that Philip cared for me. It was so obvious—in his eyes, in the warmth of his smile, in the way he looked at me, and the way he fought Mr. Beaufort to defend me. Philip cared for me. I could not say whether or not he was in love with me, but I was certain that the friendship I had treasured so much was real. A slow smile curled across my lips. Yes, there was still so much that I wanted from Philip.

But I only said, “That will do. For now.”

Philip and William left to escort Mr. Beaufort onto his ship. I gathered they would also talk to the innkeeper and help him remember the events of the night differently. And there would probably be some cost associated with the damage I caused from the bullet I had fired. On top of all of that, my head throbbed from when I had been knocked to the ground. But none of that mattered right now. I sat in the taproom with my father and took advantage of the quiet to discover some answers.

“Papa, I am so happy you’ve come back to England. But tell me—what has brought you home now? Has something happened? Is Grandmother—?”

“No, no, nothing has happened.” He patted my hand. “I should have come home long ago.” He drew in a breath, and his eyes crinkled with worry. “Is it true that you hated Bath?”

I blinked back tears, nodding because I couldn’t speak.

“I’m so sorry. I only stayed away so you would have opportunities to get out in society—to meet other young people, and have a chance at a good marriage. I had hoped you were enjoying yourself.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I don’t care for society. I want to take care of you.” It was only right, now that Mama was gone, for me to run the household and see to my father’s comfort.

“Your heart is in the right place, but before long you would have realized that your years of opportunity were gone. I would hate to be the cause of your losing a chance for future happiness. I had no idea until Sir Philip told me how unhappy you were.”

I lifted my head to look at him. “Sir Philip? What does he have to do with this?”

“He arrived a few days ago, quite out of the blue. He gave me your letter, and said that he was determined to bring me back so that you could go home. He can be very persuasive, can’t he? Of course, I didn’t need to be persuaded, once I read your letter.”

Philip had gone to France? For me? I could hardly believe it. “But how did you know I was here? And that I was in danger?”

“It was the greatest coincidence. We had just arrived, and were on our way to find an inn, when we crossed paths with Mr. Wyndham and his groom, who had followed you here after someone informed him of your abduction. There was no time for more explanation. We split up to check the different inns.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “When we heard the gunshot, and then your scream, I feared the worst.”

He exhaled a shaky sigh. “I am so relieved we found you. What would I have done if something had happened to you?” Papa pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “You are my raison d´être.”

I was his reason for living? I felt as if I was a cup filled to overflowing. One more drop of joy and my soul would spill right out of me.

“You must believe that I would have come back at any time,” he said. “All you had to do was ask. And, no, Annie, I never blamed you for your mother’s death. Never, my dear. Never.”

I leaned my head against my father’s shoulder and let my tears run freely. I had kept my heart so tightly contained for so long that now I couldn’t seem to stop the emotions that poured from it. Oh, but they were healing emotions. With each beat, my heart was growing stronger than it had been in a year.

By the time William and Philip returned, my father’s shoulder was damp from my tears, but I was happy. They told us that everything was taken care of and that we could leave right away. William would return with his groom in the phaeton he had driven, and Philip would join my father and me in a carriage they had hired to take us back to Edenbrooke. I thanked them for rescuing me, and they both waved it off as if it was just one of many heroic things they did every day.

It was dark when we left the inn. I sat in the carriage beside my father with Philip across from us. For a fleeting moment, I wished I was sitting next to Philip. Then I berated myself for my lack of loyalty and decided to be happy to have my father next to me.

There was so much that I still wanted to talk to my father about. He would surely laugh at my report about Mr. Whittles and his poetry. And there were things I wanted to ask him about France and how he had spent the past year. But Papa seemed very tired. He yawned several times while he and Philip were exchanging some casual remarks. After a few minutes, silence settled over us, and Papa leaned his head against the back of his seat.

I looked out the window and watched the moon travel with us. Another inn, another moon, another carriage ride, but everything was different now. I was different now. I was changed, irrevocably. And it was a change for the better. I felt it in the strength of my heart.

Soon snores came from my father. I couldn’t sleep—my mind was too busy thinking about everything I had learned this evening. I repeated to myself the words Philip had said to Mr. Beaufort about how he would always want me. They fell on my tender heart like drops of balm, feeding my hope.

Philip sat across from my father, and I could see nothing of him in the darkness of the carriage, but I knew he was awake because I felt his gaze on me. And then, just when I thought we would spend the carriage ride in silence, he spoke in a quiet voice from across the darkness.

“Are you certain he didn’t hurt you?”

I shivered as the sound of his voice washed over me. “Yes, I’m certain.”

I heard him sigh and settle back in his seat. Then he spoke again. “Will you tell me what happened?”

So I did. I told him everything from Mr. Beaufort’s proposal to the love letter I wrote at the inn to firing the pistol. Philip listened to it all, but I felt him growing tense and at one point I heard him swear under his breath.

At the end of my story, he was quiet, and I strained to see his expression, but it was in vain. The dark blanketed us. Talking like this, in the dark, with only words to connect us, felt as strange and intimate as watching Philip write that love letter.

After a long moment, Philip asked, “Why did you never tell me about your inheritance?”

The question surprised me. When I told him about the events of the night, I hadn’t realized that I would be telling him about my inheritance as well. I hesitated, trying to find the right words.

“My grandmother warned me not to. And besides, I haven’t actually earned the inheritance. I have to first prove myself an elegant lady to my grandmother, and I doubt that will happen.” I paused. “But would it have made a difference? If you had known?”

“No,” he answered decisively and immediately. “But I still wish I had.”

“Why?”

“So that I could promise not to love you for your money,” he said, and I heard a smile in his voice.

That day in the library when we made those promises to each other felt like a lifetime ago. I smiled at the memory. “Well, it’s not too late.”

Philip chuckled, and a thrill of pleasure rolled down my spine. How I loved the sound of his laugh! And then I realized what had made him laugh. I had flirted with him. I had never flirted with Philip before—not once—until tonight.

“I promise, Marianne Daventry,” he began. His voice was serious and sultry at the same time, and my heart skipped in my chest. “I promise that I do not love you for your money.”

A shock shuddered through me. I could not miss the change in his wording, nor the depth to his voice. Did he mean that he loved me? Did he love me? It was not a declaration, and Philip had always been an outrageous flirt. But just as I was ready to dismiss his words along with all of his other flirtatious comments, I remembered something he had said to me during our love letter lesson: “I am always serious when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Could he be serious now? Rachel’s advice to encourage him came to my mind, making my heart skip with nervousness. I did not know how to encourage a man to declare himself. I didn’t even know if Philip had anything to declare! What if my attempt to encourage him sounded as awkward as I felt?

My father shifted beside me, mumbling something in his sleep, and I started a little. I had forgotten for a moment that he was sitting next to me. His distraction served as a timely reminder that this was neither the time nor the place for an important, personal conversation with Philip. My father could awake at any moment. So I sighed and gave up the thought of learning anything about Philip’s heart or intentions tonight. I would have to wait a little longer.

But there was something I still needed to say to Philip. “Thank you for bringing my father home. It was very generous of you to go all the way to France for me.” I paused, then said with a smile, “I suppose I will have to give you the painting now.”

Philip chuckled lightly. “No, I have something better in mind for the painting.”

I waited for more, but he stayed mysteriously silent. Philip had always enjoyed his secrets.

“Why did you bring him home, then?” I asked.

“Because you wanted him.”

The statement was so simple, but it spoke volumes about Philip’s intentions. I closed my eyes and smiled as the hope inside of me grew ever brighter.

“You should try to rest,” Philip said. “You’ve been through a lot tonight. I won’t keep you awake.”

I was too tired, and my heart too tender, to say anything more. So I rested my head against the window and allowed myself to hope while the horses carried us across a moonlit world.