Lord Jonathan's arm seemed to be hurting him, for he only arrived at the lakeshore after Jemima and Northmere pushed away. That left Anna and Isabella waiting to arrange themselves into either Beaumont or Lord Jonathan’s boat.
"Now, my lady," said Beaumont, taking Isabella's hand and leading her towards the boats. "Scarcliffe has offered me the honour of taking you for a pleasure cruise, but –" He deftly steered Isabella towards Lord Jonathan's boat – "I'm afraid I must do the gentlemanly thing and pass the opportunity to another."
Anna was every bit as dismayed as Isabella looked. Beaumont clearly intended Isabella to sit with Lord Jonathan, and Anna to join him.
"No need for that, Beaumont," said Lord Jonathan, beckoning to Anna. "I'll be very pleased to take Miss Hawkins for a whirl instead."
Beaumont positioned himself expertly between Anna and the boats, preventing her from accepting the invitation. "Now, Hart, don't make me embarrass you. Your wound must be troubling you, and – forgive the impertinence, ladies – you must take the smallest passenger."
Lord Jonathan stowed his oars and shook out his arm, glaring at Beaumont. "It is not polite to comment on a lady's figure, but, since you force me, I must observe that there is little difference between the two."
"Besides," said Isabella, her cheeks lightly flushed, "I am the only one here fit to chaperone these single ladies, and I cannot be allowed to lag behind the others, for propriety's sake. Lord Jonathan may not be able to keep up."
"I assure you that I can row as well as any other man!" said Lord Jonathan hotly.
"Then it is settled," said Beaumont, and, before anyone could object further, he deftly passed Isabella's hand into Lord Jonathan's and whirled around to bow to Anna. "If you will, Miss Hawkins."
Before Anna knew what was happening, she had been handed into the duke's boat and was drifting along on the current. They were quickly overtaken by Lord Jonathan, who was rowing at a remarkable pace with an expression grim as thunder. Anna knew he must be in terrible pain, but he looked as though he would rather die than slow down. Isabella, sitting as far away from him as she could manage in the small boat, looked every bit as miserable.
"There, now," said Beaumont, rowing along at a considerably more languid pace. "It is a fine day for boating, don't you think?"
Anna turned her head deliberately away, watching with some concern as the other boats reached the river mouth at the other end of the lake, some way ahead. "That was a cruel trick you played on Lord Jonathan. Anyone could see that he and Lady Streatham are not friends."
"Oh, Hart will recover." She knew without looking back that he was grinning his familiar reckless grin. "Forgive me, Miss Hawkins. I am too pleased with myself to be contrite."
Anna did not oblige him with a response. For a few moments, she contented herself with watching the trees slowly drift past the riverbank. It truly was a lovely day to be on the water. She barely even noticed as the chatter from the other boats grew fainter and fainter, until they had all passed a bend in the river and she and the duke were completely alone.
A sudden shudder ran through the boat, jerking Anna back to reality.
"What are you doing? Why have we stopped?"
Beaumont trailed a hand idly in the water. "We seem to have hit a sunken log, Miss Hawkins. I'm afraid we're stuck."
Anna leaned over the side and saw that it was true. She bit her lip to stop herself berating Beaumont for his carelessness. He might be a flirt and an insubstantial rake, but he was still a duke. "We must call for help!"
"Oh, I'm afraid I have been quite remiss," said Beaumont. "The others are a long way out of earshot. We must wait here until they return."
"We will do no such thing," snapped Anna. She knew she ought to be afraid to be trapped once more with such a man, but she was far from frightened – only angry. "You haven't even tried to free us."
"I might try," Beaumont offered, winking. "For a price."
"I won't fall for that again," said Anna, as primly as she could manage.
"A pity." To her enormous relief – and slight disappointment – he did not lean towards her. He simply stowed the oars and settled himself more comfortably in the boat, never taking his calm gaze from her face. "As it happens, Miss Hawkins, I am glad that we have found ourselves alone together again."
Anna was not impressed. "You speak as though it happened by pure chance."
"Did it not?" The laughter died in Beaumont's eyes when she did not reciprocate it. He leaned a little closer. Not enough to disturb her, but enough to notice. "The fact is, Miss Hawkins, I am helplessly intrigued by you." This time, his laugh was bitter. "I have attempted to impress you in every way I know how, and you remain firmly unimpressed."
"If I were to forget my manners for a moment," said Anna carefully, "I might suggest that you have never had to try very hard before. You are a duke. You must be admired everywhere you go."
"But not by you."
"I did not say that." Anna could not lie. There were things she found impressive about the duke. His overwhelming self-confidence, for example. His devil's smile. His ability to flatter and charm.
The way he had sauntered into her dreams each night.
But it would not be wise to let him know that.
"I offended you the last time we spoke," he said quietly.
"Lady Cecily passed on your apologies. But I am afraid that I am the one who ought to apologise. I forgot my place. It was unforgivable of me to presume I could tell you the difference between right and wrong. It will not happen again."
"I liked it," said Beaumont. "I liked it very much."
Anna realised that she had leaned towards him, too, so that their knees were almost touching and their eyes were locked together. Her chest filled with the same bewildering excitement she had felt the moment before they kissed.
A splash of oars from upriver shattered the silence between them.
Beaumont creased his brows in irritation. "I thought they'd be longer."
The reason for the swift return became obvious one boat at a time.
The first to appear around the river bend was the Baron Northmere, rowing at a great pace which was swiftly explained by the fact that Jemima was soaked to the skin.
"Had a little accident, Northmere?" asked Beaumont, at last attempting to free their boat from the log with his oars.
"I don't wish to talk about it," said Jemima, through chattering teeth. Anna could only imagine what she had said to the baron. She had never seen a man look more thoroughly ashamed of himself.
Cecily and Robert came next, Cecily leaning out from her boat to call comforting words in Jemima's direction.
"Lend us a hand a moment, Scarcliffe?" asked Beaumont, when the boat refused to budge. "We seem to be a little stuck."
"No," called Anna, seeing that Cecily looked torn. "We'll ask Lord Jonathan for help – you must hurry along and get Lady Jemima into the house."
Cecily blew her a kiss in gratitude and urged Robert to row faster.
Lord Jonathan and Isabella were a long time coming. Anna supposed his pride must have driven him to row a great deal further than the others.
"Strange," murmured Beaumont, leaning out to look for them upriver. Anna thought, to her delight, that she could detect the faintest hint of guilt on his face.
This was confirmed when he sat back and met her eyes, wincing. "You were right, Miss Hawkins. I ought not to have forced them together." Irrepressible as ever, he took the opportunity to wink. "If only I always had you at my side to tell me right from wrong. I'd be a much better man."
A slow, rhythmic splash announced the fourth boat before it appeared. To Anna's surprise, Isabella had taken over the oars, and was making slow but steady headway. Lord Jonathan was hunched forwards at the opposite end of the boat, one hand pressed against his injured collarbone. He looked as though he could not decide which pain was greater – the wound, or the shame.
Beaumont said absolutely nothing, but swung his legs over the sid
e of the boat. "I'll have us away again in a jiffy," he said, as Isabella guided her boat past them.
"You'll ruin your boots!" Anna protested. He laughed.
"I'm sure there are boot-makers in Loxton."
He jumped into the river, which was deep enough to soak him to the waist, and waded around to the log. Anna took hold of the oars and kept the boat steady as Beaumont freed it and climbed back in.
As he rowed them back to shore, Anna felt compelled to speak.
"You had a particular motive in forcing Lord Jonathan and Lady Streatham together, Your Grace."
"I made no attempt to hide it," he answered steadily. "I wanted to kiss you again, that's all."
Anna felt the heat rise to her face. She hoped he would take it for embarrassment, when in fact, it was anger. Deep, sudden, painful anger directed not at the duke but at herself.
She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to be alone with him. She wanted...
To risk everything she held dear for the sake of a moment's passion.
She hated that he had done that to her, and she hated herself still more for falling for it.
"You are mistaken in my character," she said, as coldly as she could. "You have taken me for some innocent country girl you can seduce as you please. I admit that my behaviour at our first meeting was – was not what it should be – but since then I have made every effort to disabuse you of the notion that I would ever succumb to your well-practised charms. If we ever meet again – and I sincerely hope we do not – I ask you to treat me with respect."
Beaumont listened in silence, rowing ever faster, until the sweat broke out on his brow and he began to breathe heavily with the exertion.
"Is that how you really feel? You never wish to see me again?"
"Yes," said Anna, horrified that her heart said no.
"My well-practised charms," Beaumont muttered. "Well, I cannot deny that."
She wondered why he let his high society manners slip in her presence. She could see that he was as angry as she was. She only hoped that, like hers, that anger was directed inwardly. There, it might do him some good.
"Very well, Miss Hawkins," said Beaumont. "I shall never attempt to kiss you again. I shall never try to catch you alone again. You will be no more to me than the happily-married woman you are soon to become. Does that satisfy you?"
Anna made no answer. In truth, she was unsatisfied – but nothing the Duke of Beaumont could do would solve that.
He was not the only one who needed to reign in his own desires.
11
The boat trip back to Scarcliffe Hall was long, damp, and miserable. After dropping off the ladies at Loxwell Park, Beaumont invited Hart into his own boat for the final leg. Neither man was much inclined to speak. Hart slumped against the side of the boat, face pale and drawn with pain.
“I apologise for forcing Lady Streatham on you,” said Beaumont, as much to distract himself as anything else.
“Isabella has seen me in worse circumstances,” Hart answered bitterly. Beaumont took the hint. He did not attempt to lure Hart into conversation again.
Once they were back at the Hall, he pleaded the excuse of his river-soaked trousers and marched into the house, leaving Robert and Northmere to help the protesting Hart. He barked orders a little too sharply at his valet, ordering a hot bath and a set of new clothes. There was a chill in his bones despite the August heat.
There was a chill in his heart, too. Anna Hawkins had crept in like the first frost of winter.
Why did he care so much what an untitled, wilful country girl thought of him, anyway?
Beaumont found his bath much less comforting than he had hoped. He was beset by niggling questions which made it impossible to relax.
It had been a long time since he met a woman who wanted more from him than romance. He felt as though Anna had dragged his soul out for inspection, and found it wanting. She seemed to believe he could think better, behave better, be a better man. What nerve! Was he not already the Duke of Beaumont?
Beaumont wondered whether any part of his own lands was in a similar plight to Loxton. He might not be able to change the way the Duke of Loxwell ran things, but he could certainly take a look at his own estates.
When Northmere came to call Beaumont down for a game of billiards and a debrief of the day’s misadventures, he was amazed to find the duke sitting down at his writing desk with pen in hand.
“Leave all that,” said Northmere carelessly. “Don’t you want to hear how I managed to land Lady Jemima face first in the river?”
“I am writing to my land agent,” said Beaumont. He must have spoken sternly, for Northmere’s languid posture immediately straightened and the smirk left his face. “I have business to attend to.”
“I thought you employed the land agent precisely so that you did not have to attend to business?” Northmere protested.
“There is too much I do not know about my own tenants,” muttered Beaumont, mostly to himself. “How has the tax on grain affected them? What is the level of unemployment? Are there public buildings in need of repair? Are my mines well-run?”
“Gracious,” said Northmere faintly. “What’s brought this on?”
“My duty,” said Beaumont. He could not help but wince to think how badly it spoke of his character, that Northmere was amazed to see him at work.
“Careful, now,” Northmere warned him. “I’m starting to think Miss Hawkins has had a good effect on you – and that’s the last thing we want.”
Beaumont waited until Northmere had left before he allowed himself to groan in response. Anna Hawkins had certainly had an effect on him. Whether it was for the better remained to be seen.
12
In the weeks that followed the disastrous boat trip, Anna added regular visits to Loxwell Park to her schedule. Cecily took great care that the only gentleman caller they received was Robert, who could not be kept from her side. Anna was charmed to see such a happy pairing, although she could not escape the faint pangs of jealousy when she compared it to her own engagement. She had still not managed to think of Gilbert Jackson with anything akin to true affection.
For his own part, Gilbert encouraged the renewed friendship with Cecily in what Anna thought were indelicately strong terms.
"You will be one of the most important women in the area when we are wed," he told her. "Lady Cecily understands that. It is only right that she wishes to be close to you."
"Lady Cecily is a duke's daughter, and is marrying an earl," Anna reminded him. "Someday, she will be Marchioness of Lilistone. I hardly think she lacks fine company."
Gilbert placed his hand on hers, with a warning pressure rather than gentleness. "I know these little disagreements please you," he said. "I do understand. What is a courtship without a little spark? But, Anna, when we are married, you will not argue with me. It is not your place."
Anna forced herself into silence. She was only glad that only Mrs Pierce was there to hear Gilbert's theories about marriage. She knew they would deeply concern her father.
As though her thoughts had summoned him, Dr Hawkins poked his head into the drawing room. Anna hid her sigh of relief.
"Anna, my dear, I am sorry to tear you from Mr Jackson," he said, beckoning her towards him. "I need you in the consultation room, please."
Anna was confused, wondering why her father had not asked Mr Floyd to assist him, but her father's murmured instructions soon made matters clear. There was a task ahead that was best performed by a woman.
The patient was one Holly Thatcher, a rosy-cheeked farmer's daughter who was barely old enough to attend the local dances. Anna sat beside her and spoke gently.
"Miss Thatcher, you know me, don't you?"
"Yes, Miss," said Holly, eyes wide. She clutched Anna's arm. "Is it terrible news, Miss Hawkins? Only, I saw the doctor's face, and –"
"It is not terrible," said Anna. "There's no need to be alarmed. Tell me, Miss Thatcher, do you have a sweetheart?"
Holly nodde
d. "Don't tell, Miss. My father wouldn't like it."
"I promise I won't breathe a word," said Anna. Holly leaned in, glancing from side to side before she spoke as though she were afraid the walls were listening.
"It's Sam Digby, Miss. Only – only he's been getting into trouble lately, and Pa says I mustn't see him no more."
"It may be a little late for that," said Anna delicately. "Holly, do know what a man and woman must do together in order to have a baby?"
Holly nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, Miss. Ma told me all about it." She looked guilty. "But... Sam said that if I jump up and down twenty times afterwards..."
Anna bit her lip. Understanding dawned on Holly's face.
"Oh, no!" she said, laughing. "Not that! No, it can't be!"
"I'm afraid it's true, Holly," said Anna. "You are going to have a baby."
The girl went deathly white. Anna put an arm around her shoulders and held her tightly. She was worried Holly might be about to faint. "Now, there's no need to panic. You're in very good health, my father says, and you shouldn't have any trouble."
"But – but what will Pa say?" gasped Holly. Tears began spilling from her eyes. She pressed a hand to her stomach as though she could not believe what was inside it. "What will I do?"
"You will talk with Sam," said Anna. "If he is a good man, he will marry you, and there'll be no need to let your father know until after the wedding."
"And what if he don't?" Holly's shoulders began to shake. "What if Sam don't want to?"
Anna rubbed her arm comfortingly. "Let's not worry about things that haven't happened yet. Dry your eyes. I think it would be best if you went to speak to Sam today. That ought to set your mind at ease. And if it doesn't, well... we'll have to think again, that's all."
"I can't speak to him!" said Holly wretchedly. "I’m – I’m scared!"
"There's no need to be scared," said Anna. She hid a sigh. It was dreadful that two young people could be so intimate with one another, and yet so unprepared to face the consequences. Her own father had made sure she was educated enough never to fall into such a situation. She felt desperately sorry for Holly, and resolved to do whatever she could to help her. "I will come with you, if you like."
The Duke's Hidden Desire (Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall Book 2) Page 7