The Duke's Hidden Desire (Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall Book 2)

by Gemma Blackwood

  "Beaumont!" she exclaimed, flinging her book aside as he came in. "At last, my deliverance! You and I have no truck with this silly talk of love, do we? Please, speak to me about something sensible!"

  Beaumont caught Robert’s eye. He could only imagine Jemima's disdain if she were to discover that he had proposed to his own beloved only the day before.

  "Are you quite well, Beaumont?" asked Cecily, noticing Beaumont's grimace as he tried to walk across the room without limping.

  "I turned my ankle on a stone," he answered, lowering himself into a chair.

  "You have injured yourself far too often lately," said Jemima, with concern. "Shall we send for Dr Hawkins?"

  "On no account," said Beaumont. He allowed himself a secret smile. The last thing he wanted was to present himself to his new father-in-law as a reckless duellist. "Cecily, I wonder if I might steal you from Scarcliffe for a moment. There is something I wish to discuss. I’m afraid it’s rather delicate."

  "Gracious," Cecily smiled. "It must be very delicate indeed, if you think Robert and Jemima cannot hear it. I have no secrets from either of them. Speak freely!"

  Beaumont considered how best to begin. Cecily was so happy that it seemed a shame to spoil her mood. "You know, of course, that Scarcliffe has taken on some of his father's responsibilities in the past few years."

  "Yes, and I am very jealous of it! If I had been born a son, I'm sure I would be able to do the same for dear Papa."

  "And what would become of me, if you were a man?" asked Robert teasingly. Cecily tossed her hair.

  "Oh, I suppose you would have been married off to some maiden or other. If I were a man, I would marry Jemima, of course. No other husband could be trusted to leave her to her own devices."

  "Hear, hear!" laughed Jemima. "If I am ever obliged to marry, I can only hope the poor fool is wise enough to leave me alone!"

  "But we are jesting when we ought to be serious," said Cecily, catching sight of Beaumont's tense expression. "Please, go on, Beaumont. Don't let my high spirits interrupt you."

  "It was about your father that I wished to speak," said Beaumont heavily. "I have just passed an hour in conversation with him and his steward. I am afraid that Mr Halliwell is not at all suited to the position of trust your father has given him. I observed him make several errors of judgement, and I am certain that a close inspection of your father's accounts would reveal still more."

  Cecily's eyes grew wide and her fingers knit tightly together, but she said nothing.

  "I believe your father's heir is your cousin Mr Alexander Balfour," said Beaumont. "I wonder if perhaps it is time for Mr Balfour to begin assuming some of his responsibilities?"

  Cecily bit her lip and dropped her gaze, staring at her clasped fingers.

  "Oh, Ceci," said Jemima softly.

  "I knew it was coming," said Cecily, raising her head. "My father has not been himself for some time. I suppose we all hoped that things were not as bad as they seemed. I know my mother has noticed..." Her voice trailed off. Robert seized her hand and pressed it to his lips.

  "My darling, your father has had a long and distinguished career. There is no shame in a noble retirement."

  "I am only ashamed that Beaumont has been obliged to bring it to my attention. I should have suggested that we send for Cousin Alexander a long time ago." Cecily dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "I do not usually hide from my problems, as you all know. But when it concerns the health of a beloved father, well..."

  "Perhaps I ought to ask Dr Hawkins to call in when I see him today," said Beaumont, without thinking. Cecily and Jemima looked at him in surprise.

  "Are you still so unwell, Beaumont?" asked Jemima. "I am very sorry to hear it. Though surely the doctor ought to call upon you? There is no need for you to drive all the way into Loxton."

  Robert sat back in his chair with an amused expression that told Beaumont he was absolutely on his own.

  "Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any," said Beaumont. He hoped Anna would not mind him revealing their engagement before she had a chance to tell Cecily herself. In fact, now that the moment came, he found the idea of keeping it a secret almost unbearable. Anna was his, and the sooner the whole world knew it, the better. "I visited the doctor's house yesterday afternoon to make an offer to Anna Hawkins. I am pleased to say that she accepted me. A morning call seems very natural, under the circumstances."

  Cecily let out a cry of delight. "Engaged! You and Anna? You cannot be serious?"

  "Do you disapprove?" asked Beaumont. Cecily took up her fan and made a playful swipe at him.

  "Disapprove? I couldn't be happier! Anyone could see that she didn't love that awful Mr Jackson! I admit that after the other evening I was quite angry with you – but now! Oh, Beaumont, I wish you all the joy in the world!" She turned to Robert, clasping her hands together. "Robert, what do you say to a double wedding?"

  "I say your parents will be quite displeased to have the Duke of Beaumont stealing attention from the celebrations they have planned so carefully," said Robert sensibly.

  "Oh, bother! If only getting married were not such a fuss! I often wish we had eloped to Gretna Green after all." Cecily was bouncing up and down with joy. "If you can bear it, Beaumont, I will come with you this afternoon. I must congratulate Anna! Jemima, what do you say?"

  "I will happily congratulate her," said Jemima, regarding Beaumont suspiciously. "Once she has told me it is a love match."

  "A love match! What else could it be?"

  "Plenty of things," said Jemima matter-of-factly. "Our dear Beaumont is a duke, and unlike us, Ceci, Anna is no heiress. Beaumont's behaviour towards her has been what I will politely call extremely forward."

  "You must ask Anna for her own account of how she fell in love with me," said Beaumont, "for I admit that I cannot yet quite believe it. I am the luckiest man alive."

  "Truly," Jemima agreed. "I hold Anna in the highest regard. If you do not treat her kindly, you shall answer to me."

  "Gladly!" Beaumont laughed. "May I never give you cause to censure me! Now, let's make a party of it. We will all drive down to Loxton in Scarcliffe's open carriage."

  The ladies readily agreed. Cecily resolved to take the opportunity to have a discreet word with Dr Hawkins about her father's declining health. There was a flurry of activity while the duchess's permission was sought, bonnets were put on, sewing gloves were exchanged for outdoor gloves, and all the various tasks which were necessary before a lady could leave the house. Isabella was summoned from her writing desk, where she was deep in the midst of a long letter, and implored to chaperone them. Once she had heard the news, she readily agreed.

  Beaumont was gratified by everyone’s genuine pleasure at Anna's good fortune. Surely, with friends such as these, Anna could not fail to be welcomed into the aristocracy.

  Robert surprised Isabella by kissing her hand warmly and inviting her to sit beside him in the carriage. He had not been so warm towards her since she arrived in Loxwell Park, and he gave no explanation of why his attitude had changed now. Isabella shot Beaumont a glance of helpless confusion as she took her seat. Beaumont sincerely hoped that they would soon have a chance to tell her that, as far as Robert was concerned, her name was clear. She had never betrayed his brother, and perhaps they might be friends once more.

  Altogether, it was a lively and spirited party that set out that afternoon on the Loxton road. Beaumont was glad of the others' merriment, for he was too distracted by his own thoughts to join in the general chatter.

  He was looking over the Duke of Loxwell's estates with Anna's eyes. He saw now all too clearly the disrepair of the roads, the poverty, the lack of honest employment.

  He took in every detail with the satisfying knowledge that it was now within his power to fix it.

  28

  "Miss Clayton," said Anna. For one wild moment, she wondered whether she ought to run upstairs to her room and slam the door. "What a surprise."

  "Don't you mean
, what a pleasant surprise?" asked Miss Clayton primly. Anna took a cautious step into the room. She felt as if she were in the presence of a dangerous animal. A wildcat, perhaps, with claws poised to strike at any moment.

  She knew Miss Clayton did not want her friendship. She could only be there to try to wreak further havoc on Anna's happiness.

  "Very pleasant," she said, with a smile she did not mean. Miss Clayton's answering nod was equally false. "May I offer you some tea?"

  "Thank you, but no. I'm afraid I only drink fresh tea." Miss Clayton's eyes gleamed nastily.

  Anna knew exactly what she was implying. Tea leaves were one of life's luxuries. Once they had been used, they were often dried again and sold on to people who could not afford to buy them first-hand.

  Anna's father was more than comfortable enough to buy new tea leaves, but Anna would not press Miss Clayton to accept a cup. It would only encourage her to stay.

  "It's very kind of you to call on me," said Anna, spreading her skirts demurely as she sat down.

  "I suppose you cannot expect many callers after that unfortunate event at Lady Lilistone’s dinner party," sniffed Miss Clayton. It was not lost on either of them that it was Miss Clayton's own actions that brought Anna's indiscreet kiss to everyone's attention.

  Anna was not often tempted by vengeance, but in this instance she could not resist. "On the contrary. The Duke of Beaumont called on me just yesterday."

  Miss Clayton's eyes narrowed. "Did he? I admit that I had heard as much. I thought it was only a silly rumour. There have been so many rumours about you in Loxton, you know."

  "I wouldn't know. I never pay attention to rumours, myself."

  "Nor do I!" Miss Clayton snapped, not to be outdone. Anna could tell that she was burning to ask why Beaumont had called on her. Miss Clayton's eyes kept drifting curiously to Anna's ring finger. It was bare, but it would not be for long. Anna almost began to see the value in Mrs Pierce's dreams of a huge ruby. At least it would leave nothing to doubt.

  "Dear Beaumont is so attentive," she said, affecting a dreamy sigh. "I expect he will be calling quite often from now on."

  Miss Clayton leaned in, struggling to keep the curiosity from her face. She was too proud to ask directly, and Anna was enjoying the mystery too much to tell her.

  "Is there..." Miss Clayton's lips could barely to form the words through her vinegary smile. "Is there any particular reason why you expect the Duke of Beaumont to call, Miss Hawkins?"

  "Why, yes!" said Anna, feigning surprise. "How silly of me! With all your talk of rumours, I assumed you knew." She laid a hand on her heart and gave Miss Clayton an angelic smile. "Beaumont and I are engaged."

  Miss Clayton's glare could have soured fresh milk. "I am so pleased for you, my dear!"

  "Thank you very much," said Anna. "I knew exactly how glad you would be to hear the news."

  "Indeed." Miss Clayton sat back in her chair, curiosity sated but hopes destroyed. "And I take it you thought it wise to accept his offer?"

  "Naturally," said Anna, enjoying every moment. "Beaumont truly adores me. I could not have denied him if I wanted to."

  Miss Clayton sucked in a deep breath through her teeth.

  "Something wrong?" Anna asked innocently.

  "Oh, my dear Miss Hawkins," said Miss Clayton mournfully, shaking her head. "You are a braver woman than I am. The very idea of being presented at Court – meeting the Royal Princesses – mingling with the very cream of society – why, it makes my heart flutter just thinking about it!" She took out her fan and wafted a delicate breeze over her face. "And my grandfather was a baron, as you know – while you are descended from a long line of country doctors. I'm sure that I could not bear to be in your position."

  "And what position might that be?" asked Anna. She did not fail to notice the gleam of nastiness in Miss Clayton's eyes.

  "Well, they will laugh at you, my dear! Just imagine how the Duchess of Loxwell will feel when she is forced to greet you as an equal! I'm afraid it will be very painful." She glanced spitefully at Anna over the top of the fan. "Though I'm sure Beaumont’s love is more than enough to make up for it."

  "My father is a gentleman," said Anna stiffly. "There can be no possible objection to my marrying the duke."

  "Oh!" Miss Clayton feigned surprise. "No objection, you say? I did not know that your father had a fortune. He has kept it well hidden!" This last shot was fired with a disdainful nod towards the drawing room's decor.

  "Since Beaumont has more than enough fortune for us both, there is no need to worry yourself on that account," said Anna. "My father may keep what money he has for himself." She rose to her feet. "I don't wish to keep you, Miss Clayton."

  Miss Clayton's fan flapped ever faster. She refused to stand, fixing Anna with a baleful glare. "I cannot leave until I have done my duty. I'm afraid I must impress upon you how miserable your life will be if you marry the duke."

  "Let me assure you that your warning is unnecessary. Beaumont will make sure I do not face any problems." Anna gestured pointedly to the door. "Thank you for your advice. I'm sure it was kindly meant. Now, let me bid you good day."

  Miss Clayton shut her fan with an abrupt snap and sprang to her feet. "You will not be received in any of the great houses in the country!" she snapped. "You are reaching above your station, Miss Hawkins, and you will be punished for it!"

  "I have already been received at two great houses without Beaumont's influence," said Anna coolly. “I cannot imagine that marrying a duke will harm my welcome at Loxwell Park or Scarcliffe Hall. As for the rest of society – let them think what they may! Once again, Miss Clayton, I bid you good day!”

  She marched to the door and flung it open, waiting beside it until Miss Clayton flounced out. The jealous young lady left with her nose in the air, leaving nothing behind her but a sniff of disdain and a whiff of rosewater perfume.

  Anna remained standing in the doorway, waiting for her breathing to calm.

  She wished there was more conviction behind her answer to Miss Clayton’s barbs. She meant what she said, of course. She trusted Beaumont implicitly to guide her through the changes that were to come.

  Anna hated the fact that, despite all her love and trust, she still had fears. And Miss Clayton had chosen the very best way to stir them up.

  "I will be Duchess of Beaumont," Anna murmured to herself. It did not seem real.

  She had never wanted a title. She had never longed for a fortune. The ambitions of social climbing snobs like Miss Clayton were wholly alien to her.

  But she wanted Beaumont, and he came in a package that included fine carriages, lavish parties, high society and great responsibility. She could hardly imagine the challenges that lay ahead.

  Mr Floyd returned from his morning visits a little later than Anna expected. As Mrs Pierce was busy with the laundry, Anna set about making a pot of tea. Mr Floyd was never particularly cheerful, but his mood that morning seemed unusually grim.

  "Has something happened?" Anna asked sympathetically, setting out the tea things on the kitchen table. Mrs Pierce's cheerful humming drifted in from the garden. "Has one of your patients taken a turn for the worse?"

  "Not exactly," said Floyd. He drummed his fingers restlessly against the side of his tea cup. Anna let him contemplate his worries in silence. She knew better than to press him to talk when he did not wish to.

  At last, Floyd took a swig of tea and seemed to come to a decision. "Miss Hawkins, I'm afraid there is something I ought to tell you. Please don't ask me how I know it. My honour compels me to speak."

  "This all sounds very serious," said Anna, with a gentle smile. Floyd glanced at her, his face tense, and quickly glanced away.

  "You know that Mrs Pierce suspects the townspeople are unhappy that your engagement to Mr Jackson is at an end."

  "I don't see why the town has any say in who I marry." Anna spoke lightly, but her heart was heavy.

  "Of course they do not," said Mr Floyd. "Why should they? Your
true friends wish you only happiness, believe me. But I'm afraid I have reason to believe that Mr Jackson himself has been spreading ill will about the town. He has given it out that it is entirely your fault that he can no longer build the factory. Of course, he has given no details – a moment's thought would show that his claims are groundless – but there are too many people in Loxton who have listened."

  "I know this," said Anna. "I am not blind."

  Mr Floyd took another sip of tea, though it must have been scalding. "I want you to know that Mr Jackson has been made to pay for his wrongdoing."

  "What?" Anna's feelings for Gilbert were less than indifferent, but she did not like what Mr Floyd implied. "Has he been hurt? Mr Floyd, were you involved in something you should not have been?"

  "I will say no more," said Floyd grimly. "Only rest assured that the people who care about you have seen to it that Jackson will not show his face in Loxton again."

  Anna looked down at her hands. "I never wanted him driven away," she said quietly. "Quite the opposite. I wanted him to stay, to invest... to make Loxton prosper."

  To her surprise, Mr Floyd reached across the table to squeeze her arm. "Loxton will find its own way forward. You must think of yourself for once. Marry Beaumont, and be happy."

  The memory of Miss Clayton's cruel predictions rose unwanted in Anna's mind. "Do you think I will be happy as a duchess?"

  Mr Floyd gave her a rare smile. "I think you are capable enough to find your way to happiness no matter what your circumstances. Ah, that's your father at the door. I will go and give him my report from the morning's work."

  Anna sat and sipped her tea as the household's morning bustle unfolded around her. She took the chance to notice every small detail: the neatly-darned tear in Mrs Pierce's apron; the tune her father whistled as he washed his equipment; the different rhythms the townspeople used to knock at the door as they came to see the doctors. She could recognise the usual suspects by the way they rapped on the knocker. Farmer Jones with his great, heavy-handed thumping and his bad leg that needed dressing each day. Mrs Pratt with her nervous tap-tap-tap.