He showed the quaking boy out, leaving Anna and Isabella alone.
"I recognise that expression well enough," said Isabella, placing her hands on Anna's shoulders and looking at her searchingly. "I wore it once myself. Besides, I saw it on Beaumont's face not two minutes ago."
Mrs Pierce, blissfully unaware of what had transpired, bustled into the room carrying a tray laden with cakes and tea. Anna almost burst into tears at the sight of the seven cups and saucers she had so carefully laid out.
"Perfect!" Isabella declared. "This is just what is needed. Take a seat, Anna, and let me pour."
Anna obeyed. She felt as though a grey cloud had descended on the world. Only that morning she had been so sure of herself and her newfound position. Now, everything had been thrown into confusion.
"Do you take sugar?" Isabella asked. Mrs Pierce bustled away, thankfully managing to contain her curiosity. Anna could not have borne her questions, especially not in front of the countess.
"No sugar, thank you," she said faintly. Isabella pressed a warm cup into her hands.
"Is it your first lovers' quarrel?" she asked. Anna felt her throat constrict.
"I'm afraid it is more serious than that."
"What did he say?" asked Isabella, taking a seat beside her. Anna let a heavy teardrop fall into her tea.
"Apparently my choice of company is not suitable for a duke's future wife. There seems to be one rule for myself and Sam Digby, and quite another for His Grace the Duke of Beaumont. He may break as many laws as he sees fit."
"Gracious! I never thought Beaumont had it in him. He is always so refined."
Anna made an attempt at levity which she knew she could not pull off. "It is quite something, is it not, to lose two fiancés in the space of a week?"
"You have not lost Beaumont, my dear," said Isabella soothingly. "On the contrary. He must love you very much indeed, if you have made him lose his temper."
"He almost lost more than that," said Anna darkly. "He was actually mad enough to fight a duel on my behalf this morning. Can you imagine! A duel! And he has the nerve to condemn Sam for breaking the law!"
"Men do a great many illogical things when they are in love," said Isabella. "I would not judge him too harshly. He did not kill anyone, did he?"
Anna smiled wryly. "He ensured that Mr Jackson would not trouble me again."
Isabella kept her face carefully blank. "Then I'm sure you understand that I cannot judge him too harshly. Listen to me, Anna. Love is a precious thing. I believe that, when it is true and real, it is not easily set aside. Beaumont is already regretting his words. You must understand that he has always been known as the perfect gentleman: cool-blooded, polished – controlled. He is not used to losing his temper. When he has had a chance to think, he will beg on his knees for your forgiveness."
"I have never heard of a duke who begged," said Anna.
"He is a man as well as a duke. Do not despair of him yet." She smiled warmly. "By the autumn, I will be taking you to my dressmaker to have her design the gown for your presentation at Court."
"If only he were just a man!" Anna sighed. "I never wanted greatness. Why couldn't I settle for an honourable gentleman, and leave the dukes to Miss Clayton?"
"Now that would be truly unforgivable. Surely you would not inflict that creature upon us as Duchess of Beaumont!" Isabella gave a delicate shudder. "I could endure any misery but that. Now, Anna, I have some advice for you. I may not be wise, but I have been married, and that must count for something. I predict that Beaumont will call upon you again tomorrow morning, if not tonight. You must not receive him."
"What?" Anna could not imagine what purpose that would serve.
"I am serious. You must not let him into the house."
"That smacks of game-playing," said Anna, shaking her head. "I don't wish to play the coquette."
"Nor should you. But you must not make the mistake of letting him get away with his error too easily. You currently run the risk of entering an unequal marriage. Beaumont will not enter your world; you will enter his. He has much to teach you. You must not let him forget that he can learn from you, as well."
"Surely it will not teach him anything to leave him standing on the doorstep!"
"It will be a blow to his pride, which he sorely needs. And it will make him seriously consider what his life would be without you. At the moment, he still believes he can play the wild bachelor – fighting duels and stealing kisses. You must show him that he must change in order to deserve you." Isabella narrowed her eyes. "That is, if he deserves you at all, which I personally doubt."
"You are too good," smiled Anna. "I promise to send him away once. Once, only. I'm sure I could not bear to do it a second time."
"Nor will you have to," said Isabella confidently. "The second time, believe me, he will come on his knees. You may decide from your position of strength whether he has made sufficient amends for you to forgive him. Then, and only then, will you allow him back into your heart."
31
Beaumont's only wish the following morning was to be left alone. He was miserable, and the last thing he wanted was to explain why.
Unfortunately, he had left a duty unfinished at Loxwell Park the previous day. That duty obliged him now to don his tail coat, order his carriage, invite Robert to join him, and make the journey across the bumpy, ill-kept road between Scarcliffe Hall and Loxwell Park.
Cecily greeted them, as radiant as ever. Beaumont could see why Scarcliffe admired her; the fright of the previous day had been forgotten before their carriage had even left Loxton. In fact, it had been all the gentlemen could do to prevent Cecily from taking the reins and driving them back to Anna's house to apologise for the fuss.
Beaumont had not been ready to see Anna again. He knew that he had hurt her, and he could not go back unprepared.
That he had spent the afternoon preparing a fine speech and returned to Loxton that night, only to be told with a sniff of disdain that "Miss Hawkins is not receiving visitors," was the primary reason behind his foul mood that morning.
Turned away at the door! What country doctor had the nerve to leave a duke waiting on his doorstep?
Beaumont could only imagine the gossip that must be tearing through the little town. It was almost unbearable. He had never in his life been refused admittance to any household, however grand.
Yes, he had spoken harshly – but so had she! They had both made errors of judgement. All he desired was to return to the peaceful contentment of the day before. Could it be that Anna was still angry? Worse, was she reconsidering their engagement entirely?
My future wife must not consort with criminals. Beaumont winced to recall the words. Each time he reflected on them, their impact grew more severe. Anna might consort with whomever she liked, if she would only marry him.
His thoughts skittered away from him each time he followed this train of thought to its logical conclusion. He was sure she would still want to marry him. Certain. Positive.
Not a doubt in his mind.
"Are you quite well, Beaumont?" asked Cecily, jerking him from his miserable reverie.
Beaumont was not well at all. He was experiencing, for only the second or third time in his life, the cold touch of fear. It was as though an icy hand had clasped around his heart, and might squeeze tighter at any moment.
"Quite well," he said evenly. They were standing at the door to the Duke of Loxwell's study. This was no time for Beaumont to dwell on his own troubles; he and Robert were there to support Cecily.
"Then let's go in," said Cecily sadly. She knocked on the door.
"Come in!" came the voice of the duke.
An hour later, the three friends emerged from the duke's study in a sober mood.
"I think that went as well as can be expected," said Cecily, with false brightness.
"You were wonderful, my darling," Robert told her. "No-one could have been as gentle as you. I'm sure your father was grateful."
"Perhaps grate
ful is the wrong word," said Beaumont. As they walked back towards the summer sitting room, they passed Mr Halliwell walking quickly towards the study. Beaumont made a point of not averting his gaze. The land agent had taken advantage of an old man's declining health. He thoroughly deserved the storm which was about to descend upon him.
"I don't want to listen to this," said Cecily, linking her arm through Robert's. "Let's go out into the garden. You will stay a while, won't you? I'll tell Mrs Clarke to make us a nice lunch."
Beaumont thought he would rather walk through fire than eat luncheon at the table of the man whose life's work he had just brought to an end. "I think I'd better not. But there is another matter I wish to discuss with you –"
A polite cough interrupted him. The butler was standing in the hallway. "Excuse me, Lady Cecily, but there is a young man at the servant's entrance who..." Peters wrinkled his nose fastidiously. "Well, my lady, he claims he has something important to say to you, but I cannot believe that is the case. He was extremely persistent. Shall I have him thrown out?"
Cecily frowned. "A tall young man? From Loxton town?"
"That's right, my lady." The butler struggled to contain his surprise. "Do you know him?"
"I suppose I'd better come down and see him," said Cecily. "If you don't mind, Peters."
"Mind? My lady, no room in the house is barred to you. But I must warn you –"
"Cecily," Robert interrupted, "if this is who you suspect, you cannot –"
She silenced them both with a single finger held in the air. "I will thank you never to tell me what I can and cannot do. Robert, Beaumont, please accompany me."
Just as Cecily had guessed, the young man they found standing at the servant's entrance, straw hat twisted to ruins in his nervous hands, was Sam Digby, the one-time highwayman.
"Mr Digby –" Cecily began, but the boy fell to his knees the moment he saw her and began babbling a speech he had clearly rehearsed.
"My lady, I know I have no right to speak to you after what I've done! I know it's impertinent to call! But I had to. I've suffered that much for what I've done to you, and I know I deserve to suffer more, so if you want to send me to the magistrates I'll go today! But I'm that sorry, my lady, that I don't know how to explain it any more, and I hope that you'll forgive me, and Lord Scarcliffe too. I knew it was wrong to go out on the roads with those men. There ain't no excuse. I'm sorry for it."
Cecily hid her smile, assuming an imperious glare. "I think Miss Hawkins has put you up to this, young man."
"Oh, no, my lady, I swear it! She told me not to come!"
"Did she, now?" Beaumont murmured. "Doubtless she thought we would turn you over to the authorities."
Sam Digby shook his head, his eyes still firmly fixed on the ground. "She said you wouldn't understand why I'd done it, sir, and I risked my neck by coming here – but I know right from wrong, though I don't always act like it, and I know it's right to say sorry."
"That is the Duke of Beaumont you are speaking to," said Robert sternly. "You will address him as Your Grace."
"P-p-pardon me, Your Grace!" Sam gasped.
Beaumont shared a glance with Robert and Cecily. There was a glint of mischief in Cecily's eye.
"I think once I have exchanged bullets with a man, I might allow him a few slips of formality," said Beaumont lazily. "Mr Digby, I hear you intend to marry."
"I do, Your Grace."
"You have a child on the way?"
"Th-that's right. I know I ain't behaved well there, either, Your Grace, but I mean to do right by Holly."
"That will be difficult, with no employment. What is there to stop you returning to a life of crime?"
"Oh, I never will!" Sam protested. "I was that scared when Lord Scarcliffe shot me, I thought for sure I'd die, and never see Holly again, nor my own Ma! No, Your Grace, I won't go astray again, I swear it! I'd rather beg on the streets."
"Don't torment him, Beaumont!" implored Cecily. "Anyone can see he means it. Besides, I wasn't hurt at all." She raised her chin defiantly. "I wasn't even particularly scared. And as far as I recall, the two of you thought that little gun fight was a wonderful adventure."
"Hart was badly hurt," said Robert.
"Hart might just as easily have been hurt on his own escapade as a highwayman that very evening," Cecily reminded him pointedly. "Or had you forgotten?" She turned back to Sam. "Stand up, Mr Digby. I forgive you – on the condition that you never commit another crime again."
"Thank you, my lady!" Sam gasped. He pushed himself upward, keeping his eyes low.
"It strikes me that the matter isn't quite done with," said Beaumont. Sam Digby froze.
"Y-your Grace?"
"We must take action to make sure you keep your word." Beaumont folded his arms, looking the boy up and down. "I have been reliably informed that poverty often makes crime too tempting to resist. We must find you decent employment, young man." He glanced at Robert and Cecily, who nodded their approval. "How would you like to train as a groom in my stables?"
Sam's mouth fell open.
"You will be trained well and receive a decent salary," said Beaumont. "Enough to raise a family on. What do you say?"
The boy was still too stunned to move. "I'd... I'd be that grateful, Your Grace, I... I don't know what to say..."
"I'm afraid this won't do at all," said Robert, waving Beaumont down.
"Robert!" Cecily gasped. He cut off her protests with a roguish wink.
"Mr Digby, your bride won't wish to leave Loxton with a child on the way. You must come and work at Scarcliffe Hall instead." He nodded gracefully to Beaumont. "If you don't object, Beaumont?"
"Not at all, Scarcliffe."
"Then it's settled."
Sam thanked them so profusely Beaumont was almost worried he would fall to his knees again. Cecily instructed the cook to give him a meat pie to take home to his family, and Robert made arrangements for him to report to the head groom at Scarcliffe Hall the following morning. Once everything was settled and the stunned Sam had been sent on his way, they returned to the sitting room with the satisfying sense of a job well done.
"What a strange morning!" Cecily exclaimed. "I feel as though I've done more good today than in the past year. You really must both stay to lunch – it's far too late to make the drive back to Scarcliffe Hall without something to eat. If you'll just excuse me a few moments, first. I did promise Papa that I would draft the letter to Cousin Alexander." She sighed. "I'm sure he's a very nice man, but I wish I knew him better. It seems very strange to invite him to live here."
"You will be at Scarcliffe Hall with me, my darling," Robert reminded her. "There are many changes coming, but not all of them will be bad."
"I hope that Alexander coming won't be bad at all. I know now that Papa truly needs him." Cecily paused in the middle of arranging her writing things on the desk. "Oh, Beaumont, I had almost forgotten. You had something you wanted to discuss with me?"
"Only if you can bear to think about your father's business a little more," said Beaumont. "It will take time for your cousin to improve things for his tenants. In the meantime, I have a little scheme which I think might greatly benefit the people of Loxton..."
32
Anna no longer relished walking the streets of Loxton, but on the third day that their delivery from the bakery failed to arrive, she felt she had no other choice. She knew that people were talking about her. Perhaps even laughing at her – the girl who thought she could swap Mr Jackson for a duke! Beaumont had not called at all the previous day. Anna wondered whether she had been right to trust Isabella. Should she have turned him away?
But she knew, in her heart, that she would not simply be able to apologise and kiss away their disagreement as she wanted to. The argument was nothing new. She had always known that Beaumont felt no responsibility towards the poor and downtrodden. Her love had blinded her.
She would not let herself be blinded again. And she knew that, if she let him in, she would no
t be able to stop herself from falling into his arms.
To her surprise, the baker greeted her with a wreath of smiles. "Miss Hawkins! What a pleasure! I must wish you joy!"
"Oh. You've heard the news, then?" Anna wondered whether she could still claim to be engaged to Beaumont at all.
"Oh yes! Heard it just this morning! Everyone's talking about it! Imagine the Duchess of Beaumont in my bakery – what an honour!"
"I'm not a duchess yet," Anna smiled. "Still plain Anna Hawkins." She was not fool enough to think that the baker's welcome was anything more than awe at the title. This was the same man who had refused to deliver bread to her door after she had broken off with Mr Jackson, after all.
"Oh, it's all change round here," said the baker, happily filling up her basket with loaves. "A new land agent for the Duke of Loxwell, they say! And the duke’s men were round earlier to see about fixing my roof." He added in a couple of sweet cakes and winked. "No charge, of course. Not to the future duchess! I wouldn't dream of it."
"The duke’s men, you say?" Anna repeated, amazed.
"And about time, too! I won't hear a word against old Loxwell, you know that, but he's not been an easy landlord and no mistake. Still, better a late change than none at all!" The baker leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "I hear they'll be taking on new men up at the duke's mines in Alsbury, too. A bit more work in these parts is exactly what we need, that's what I say!"
"That would be wonderful," Anna agreed. She was quite baffled. What on earth could have persuaded the Duke of Loxwell to fire his land agent?
Was it too much to hope that Beaumont had set aside his reservations and confronted the old duke?
Whatever the cause, she was glad of it. If she could not be Loxton's salvation, she was happy that someone, at least, would start taking care of it.
"Anyway, I won't keep you, Miss," said the baker. "You'll be wanting to get along and join your father, I expect."
"My father?" Anna had left him at home.
"That's right, Miss! I saw him going up the street just now." The baker winked, and Anna could not imagine why. "Hard to miss in that great big carriage. Four horses! Finer than any of old Loxwell's, and I don't mind who hears me say it!"
The Duke's Hidden Desire (Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall Book 2) Page 19