The Duke’s Hidden Desire

by Blackwood, Gemma

  "I do not think there is much of greatness about the Duke of Beaumont," Anna said, before she could stop herself. Her father raised an eyebrow. "I mean – the way he spoke about the shooting this morning! As though it were all a game! When Lord Jonathan could have been killed, and that young boy from the village..."

  "Sam Digby brought his injuries on himself," said Dr Hawkins sternly. "Playing at highway robbery! It's despicable. If he had been shot dead on the spot, it would have been his just desserts."

  "But he was so young, Papa, and so frightened..."

  "Yes," agreed the doctor, softening, "but youth is no excuse for crime. You and I know the desperate circumstances which can lead a man to such endeavours, but as for the nobility... Perhaps it is best that the duke views it all as a game. The alternative might be much more unpleasant for the village boys."

  Anna knew her father was right, though it did nothing to quell the storm of outrage still brewing in her heart.

  But if the Duke of Beaumont could control his temper, so could she. She was a match in manners for any gentleman.

  And now, perhaps, she was finally rid of his company forever.

  9

  Anna’s preparations for her wedding to Gilbert Jackson were soon overshadowed by the announcement of an engagement between Lady Cecily Balfour, daughter of the Duke of Loxwell, and Lord Robert Hartley, Earl of Scarcliffe. To say that this news came as a surprise to the people of Loxton was an understatement. The enmity between the Hartleys and the Balfours had endured for a generation. It was common knowledge that, if one of the Hartley men was seen on Loxton high street, the Duke of Loxwell would turn his horse around and ride in the other direction.

  How the couple had met was a source of much gossip and fascination, for everybody knew that the Hartleys would never attend a party where they might encounter a Balfour, and vice versa.

  Anna did not pay much attention to gossip, and she felt only the slightest curiosity over how Lady Cecily had managed to end the years of hatred between the two great houses.

  The important thing was that better relations among the landed gentry could only benefit the townspeople. Anna was grateful for that.

  When she encountered Cecily in the dressmaker's one afternoon, therefore, she delicately refrained from pestering her with questions, though the two women had known each other since their childhood.

  Since the Loxwell estates were mostly devoid of noblewomen, Anna had often been invited to Loxwell Park to keep Cecily company. As they grew older, Cecily's world had inevitably grown more distant from hers. Cecily had been received at Court. Her father had thrown her a glittering ball for her sixteenth birthday. She had travelled to London for every Season and been one of the most sought-after heiresses for the past four years.

  Anna, meanwhile, had stayed in Loxton and kept house for her father.

  It was not that she no longer liked Cecily; no-one could fail to like such unaffected manners and impetuous charm. It was only that their lives were so very different now.

  So Anna was surprised and pleased when Cecily eagerly took her arm and began exclaiming over the swatch of white muslin Anna was inspecting.

  "Oh, Anna! This must be for your wedding gown!"

  "Mr Jackson wants to see me in white on the day," said Anna, wondering why she could not match Cecily's enthusiasm. "But I must congratulate you on your own engagement!"

  Cecily's eyes sparkled. "It is too marvellous, isn't it? You know Robert already, of course – I know your father has taken you to Scarcliffe Hall. Isn't he simply delicious?"

  Anna laughed. "I don't think I could possibly comment, my lady!"

  "But you know exactly what I mean," sighed Cecily, running her gloved hand over the white muslin. "You are so close to finally having your dear Mr Jackson. I am really too pleased for you! My parents have insisted on making such a fuss over my wedding. And as for Lord Lilistone – he simply wants to outdo everything my father suggests! I don't like to deny them anything, of course. Especially not after the trouble Robert and I had to persuade them to be friends again..." Her eyes widened. "That reminds me! I must invite you to tea next Thursday. My dear friend the Countess of Streatham will be here, and I intend to show her the best of Loxton society. Do say you'll come, Anna," she added, as Anna hesitated. "Lady Streatham has only just left mourning, and she's so young to be a widow! I want to entertain her with as much company as possible." She leaned closer. "Besides, I am honour-bound to make sure you attend."

  "What do you mean?"

  Cecily glanced at the dressmaker, who immediately found something to do on the other side of the shop. Cecily might have ordered her wedding clothes from Paris, but her everyday custom was still too valuable to be jeopardised by nosiness.

  "I am making amends on behalf of the Duke of Beaumont," Cecily murmured, once they were alone. "He tells me that you were very kind to him after that dreadful adventure with the highwaymen, and he did not repay it well. He is concerned that he offended you."

  "I'm sure a duke could not possibly offend a mere gentleman's daughter," said Anna primly. Cecily laughed.

  "Oh! I see it is true! Anna, was he terribly rough with you? Or did he flirt?" Cecily narrowed her eyes shrewdly. "I do not know Beaumont well, but I know he is a shameless flirt."

  "Nothing of the sort," said Anna, though that was not entirely true. "He made light of something I took seriously, that's all. I'm afraid I spoke out of place."

  "Well, Beaumont is convinced that it was he who spoke out of place, and he has asked me to apologise for him. Inviting you to tea is my own idea, though, and I will be very upset if you cannot come."

  Anna hesitated. "Will the duke be there?"

  "I plan to make a ladies’ day of it," said Cecily airily. "Though I cannot say whether the gentlemen will stop by. Robert visits me every day, of course."

  Anna tried to keep the nerves from her face, but something must have shown in her expression, for Cecily took her hand and spoke gently. "I quite understand if you do not wish to see Beaumont again. Not every duke is as amiable as my father, and even he has his flaws." She wrinkled her nose. "Believe me, I know that society gentlemen can be the most frustrating creatures in the world. They are not to everyone's taste."

  "I will come," said Anna. She did not like to see Cecily making assumptions about Beaumont's behaviour. Now that some time had passed, she did not judge him as harshly as she had done at first. Besides, her father was right – it was much better that the gentlemen should see the attack on the road as a thrilling adventure rather than a serious crime.

  "I am so pleased," said Cecily. "Now that I know Scarcliffe Hall will be my home forever, I mean to resurrect all my local friendships. London is all very well, but there's nothing like a day spent riding through the countryside! Until I have my own daughters to bring out, I don't intend to spend any time in London at all!"

  She embraced Anna warmly and summoned the dressmaker with an imperious nod. It seemed that the shop in which Anna ordered her wedding gown was the place where Cecily deigned to buy off-season riding gloves.

  The gulf between them had not seemed so wide in childhood. Despite Cecily's warmth, Anna was not sure she was pleased that their friendship had been renewed.

  High society was no place for a country doctor's daughter.

  10

  The following Thursday was a perfect English summer's day: a light breeze, a blue sky, and a warmth in the air that was only found in late August. Anna had put on her best visiting gown, a pale silk slip with a green net overdress, in the knowledge that it would not be half as fine as what the other ladies were wearing. At least she could be satisfied that the green looked very elegant against the strands of red hair peeking out from beneath her bonnet.

  She knocked on the door of Loxwell House feeling a little self-conscious, but was greeted with all civility by the butler, who was somewhat less irascible than his counterpart at Scarcliffe Hall. He led her out onto the sunny stretch of lawn at the back of the house
. The immaculately-tended grass reached out to the fringes of Scarcliffe Forest and was bordered on one side by a small lake, fed by the river that divided the Duke of Loxwell's land from the Marquess of Lilistone's.

  At the water's edge, a small party of ladies waved eagerly and beckoned her forwards.

  As far as Anna recalled, Cecily had never been particularly interested in painting, but she had set up four easels to face the shimmering lake. A small wrought iron table was laden with tea and cakes, and four chairs sat in the shade of a weeping willow. Two of these chairs were occupied by Lady Cecily and Lady Jemima Stanhope, the Duke of Loxwell's ward. The third chair stood empty, but a short and elegantly dressed lady was gazing out across the lake with her bonnet held carelessly in one hand.

  “Anna! I'm so glad you came,” said Cecily, embracing her. Anna was pleased to see that Cecily's friendliness was not diminished in front of her titled friends. “Let me pour you some tea! You remember Jemima, of course?”

  “My lady,” said Anna, curtseying. Jemima stuck out her hand and shook Anna's warmly.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Hawkins. I hope you've come to rescue us from all this talk of weddings. I'm nearly ready to throw myself into the lake.”

  “Believe me,” said Anna, surprising herself with her honesty, “weddings are the last thing I wish to discuss.”

  Jemima caught a sharp glance from Cecily, and flung a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my! I've put my foot in it again. Congratulations on your engagement, Miss Hawkins.”

  “Thank you,” said Anna wryly, “but I was not being polite. I want nothing more than a diversion from all the fuss.” She took the seat closest to the table and accepted a cup of tea from Cecily.

  “Isabella!” called Cecily, turning to the lavender-clad girl at the lakeshore. “Come and be introduced to Anna Hawkins.”

  For a woman who was not only a countess, but also a widow, Isabella was shockingly young. She could not have been more than twenty-four. She had a pleasant face, though it was lost in a wistful expression, and a mass of brown hair which must have been well-groomed that morning but had since suffered the damage of a windy day. Anna took in the dull bombazine silk of her dress and realised she was still in half-mourning, or at least, had chosen not to return to bright colours yet.

  “I am very pleased to meet you,” said Isabella, once Cecily had made the proper introductions. “Though I confess to being a little nervous. Cecily tells me you are the most accomplished lady in Loxton.”

  “Even if that were true, I hardly think the drawing rooms of Loxton compare to the salons of London,” said Anna. She shot a sharp look at Cecily, who looked airily away and pretended not to notice.

  “Do you paint watercolours, Miss Hawkins?” asked Isabella.

  “A little.”

  “Nonsense,” said Cecily. “You paint wonderfully – at least, compared to my sad efforts!”

  “I have not had much time for painting lately,” said Anna awkwardly. Isabella took the seat beside her and gave a companionable sigh.

  “Of course not! You have higher concerns than pleasure and idleness. It is something I admire greatly. When my husband was alive, I had all manner of practical duties to perform. But sadly, the life of a widow is not a useful one.” She made a shooing gesture at Cecily and Jemima. “These frippery girls do not understand responsibility.”

  “I object to being described as frippery,” said Jemima.

  “Do forgive me,” said Isabella. “I forgot to mention that you spend your time reading all sorts of edifying books.” An impish grin transformed her features. Anna thought how pretty she must have been in the days when she often smiled.

  “Now you see why we so sorely desired your company, Anna,” sighed Cecily. “Isabella has such high standards for her acquaintances, and Jemima and I do not measure up!”

  To Anna's relief, it quickly became clear that the other ladies were much more interested in teasing each other than in painting. She soon forgot their differences in rank as they chattered away. It was almost too idyllic; the lake, the silk dresses, the cakes, the easy laughter.

  If life were like this every day, Anna thought, it would be all too easy to forget the real world of work and struggle which lay elsewhere in the duke's estates.

  Cecily was more perceptive than Anna remembered. She noticed her faint frown and deftly turned the subject to a more serious matter.

  "Papa tells me your Mr Jackson plans to build a factory near Loxton," she said. "If he is to be believed, you are the chief force behind it. I would love to hear your thoughts on the scheme! Robert is taking over more of his father's duties, and I mean to be the best help to him that I can." She glanced mischievously at Jemima. "I do not want to be an idle woman, living off my inheritance without a thought for others."

  "You will not be able to," said Jemima with equanimity. "You will be married before you come of age, and all your money will be Robert's. I, on the other hand, will not marry – and when I inherit, I will do exactly as I please."

  "A factory?" asked Isabella, eyes wide. "Do you not think it will be a dreadful strain on the townspeople? The working conditions..."

  "The first task is to ensure they have work at all," said Anna. She spoke carefully, aware that Cecily's father was the man who had managed his estates poorly enough to put the people of Loxton in their current position. The duke was old, and she did not blame him, but rather the land agents who took advantage of his infirmity and lined their own pockets at the expensive of his tenants. "In these changing times, it can be so difficult for the poor to find reliable work. The factory will bring them that. And at least last year brought some reform for the workers."

  "You are speaking of the Factory Act?" asked Isabella. "That did not do nearly enough, in my opinion. It is still perfectly legal for a child of nine years old to labour in a factory! The very idea makes me shudder."

  "Is that really true?" asked Cecily, eyes widening. "How horrible! I shall ask my father for his position on the matter. Perhaps he can speak about it in the House."

  "I did not think you would be interested in such things," said Isabella, smiling gently. "My poor Streatham lent a great deal of support to the Factory Act – though it did not achieve all he wanted it to."

  "He was under your guiding influence, I'm sure," said Cecily, squeezing her hand. "I will take my lessons from you and Anna. When Robert takes his seat in the House of Lords – though may it not come for many years – I will be ready to advise him!"

  "How frustrating that we must leave it all to the men to decide," said Jemima archly. "If women could enter parliament, I am sure the world would be much better-run."

  "Does Mr Jackson intend to go into politics?" asked Isabella, turning to Anna. "A political husband is a mixed blessing, in my opinion. So much time spent obliged to entertain the dullest people! But it is a worthy thing to support a good cause. Men need a useful occupation, else they are at risk of growing restless."

  Anna had never discussed politics with Gilbert Jackson. In fact, she had carefully avoided all subjects which might illuminate his character in any depth at all. She was too afraid of what she might discover.

  She was saved from responding by Jemima's snort of irritation. "Speaking of men," she said. "It seems we cannot avoid them!"

  Anna became aware of a splashing noise and several merry shouts drifting towards them from beyond the bend in the river. Before long, the Earl of Scarcliffe appeared at the far edge of the lake in a little rowing boat. He was closely followed by a sandy-haired man Anna did not recognise. Behind them, in a third boat, came the Duke of Beaumont. As they rowed into the ladies' view, each man lifted an oar and shook it in greeting.

  "Hurry up, Hart," called Robert, glancing behind him. "We've come upon four sirens bent on luring us to our doom. If you could only keep up, your face might repel them!"

  "Blast you all!" came Lord Jonathan's voice from a little way behind. "You've no sympathy for a wounded man!"

  Isabella leapt to her fe
et and clutched Anna's arm. "Miss Hawkins, if you would?" She gestured to her half-tumbled hair. "I am not in a fit state to greet the gentlemen."

  Anna followed her behind the tree and began re-pinning her hair while the gentlemen disembarked and implored Cecily and Jemima to join them.

  Isabella had gone quite pale. Anna supposed she must not be used to male company after such a long time spent in mourning.

  "Your hair is so lovely," she commented, to distract her. "There are notes of gold in the brown."

  "Someone told me so, once," said Isabella faintly, letting Anna tie on her bonnet. "There. Will I do? No, of course I will. I'm sure you have done a wonderful job."

  For the briefest second, Isabella shivered as violently as though she were about to lay her head on the chopping block. Then she made a visible effort to dismiss the pain from her face and took Anna's arm in hers, walking back around the tree.

  "Good afternoon," she said, in perfectly pleasant tones. "What a lovely surprise. Lord Scarcliffe, Lord Jonathan – it has been a long time since we last met."

  Robert had already persuaded Cecily into his boat and had rowed her a little way from the shore. He stood up, making Cecily shriek as the boat rocked from side to side, and bowed deeply.

  "A delight to see you again, Lady Streatham! You will find the Duke of Beaumont a worthy oarsman." He waved to Jemima, who was being guided into the second boat by the sandy-haired man. "Jemima, please introduce everybody! The current is carrying me away!"

  Jemima obliged with an air of despair at the antics of men. The sandy-haired man was Ralph Morton, Baron Northmere, and he did not seem particularly pleased to have Jemima, the lady with the sharpest tongue, as his companion.

  Beaumont allowed Jemima to introduce him to Anna with no more than a glimmer of amusement. Anna was glad that he and Cecily had kept their prior acquaintance a secret.

  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.