The Duke’s Hidden Desire

by Blackwood, Gemma

  "Please, Your Grace," Jackson smiled. "I have no desire to win an apology from a peer of the realm. Nor do I intend any violence upon you."

  Beaumont paused, digesting this strange turn of events. "You are not angry, sir?"

  "It is not my place to be angry with you, Your Grace."

  "But it would be perfectly natural, all the same." Beaumont frowned. "I have destroyed certain hopes you must have held dear, and I am sorry for it."

  Jackson closed his eyes, as though relishing the moment. "Thank you. But I am not at all angry. In fact, you have done me a favour. You see, Anna was beginning to be a little difficult for me to manage." To Beaumont's disgust, he was actually smiling. "Now that she can no longer pretend to be the vision of purity, things will be much easier. I do not know whether you intended to ruin her, but I thank you for it all the same."

  "I would never do anything to harm her!" Beaumont growled. Something about Mr Jackson's condescending smile made his fingers itch to form fists.

  "Of course not," said Jackson soothingly. "But the fact remains that Anna has been brought low by your actions. Low enough that she is now well within my reach, where before she imagined she soared above me." He licked his lips. "I have come to enquire as to whether you are done with her. I have no desire to invoke your wrath by marrying the girl."

  "You still intend to marry her?" Beaumont asked in astonishment.

  "Naturally I do."

  "But you cannot imagine now that she loves you?"

  "Love does not enter into the matter at all. The fact is that there are several unsavoury aspects about my past – a multitude of sins, alas – which were necessary when I was building my fortune, and which are now something of an embarrassment. A respectable wife will go a long way towards covering those sins. Anna may be a little tarnished now, but that will be forgotten when I marry her, and the daughter of a well-regarded doctor is just what I need to make society forget my prior misdemeanours." Jackson gave a sly wink. "Of course, I do not need to tell you that there are other reasons why I wish to have her."

  "And where do Anna's wishes factor into this scheme?" asked Beaumont. "She is not a dishrag for you to use to wash your reputation clean."

  "That is the beauty of it," said Jackson. "Now that you have brought her to the brink of ruin, her wishes matter less than ever. Once you have abandoned her, she will be mine for the taking."

  Beaumont resisted the urge to drive his fist into Jackson's smug grin. "You are speaking of Anna as though she is a piece of chattel."

  "Well, when she is my wife, she will be." Jackson rose to his feet and bowed. "Thank you for seeing me, Your Grace. I trust we part as friends."

  "Friends?" Beaumont moved to block Jackson's way out of the library. "I tell you, sir, you will not subject Anna to this odious scheme!"

  Jackson's eyes narrowed. "I will not allow another denizen of Scarcliffe Hall to cheat me out of a bride, Your Grace."

  That strange proclamation caught at Beaumont's attention for an instant before his anger swept it away. "I will not allow you to marry a woman you do not deserve."

  "Deserve?" Jackson laughed. "That's a fine thing to say, from the man who has destroyed her standing in society. I think you will find that she and I deserve each other perfectly. And now, if you will excuse me, I will return to her father's house and see if she is yet miserable enough to take me back. I overplayed my hand this morning, but a few hours’ lonely contemplation will have softened her."

  "You'll do no such thing!" Beaumont bellowed. He laid the flat of his hand on Jackson's chest and pushed him sharply backward. "If I have to tie you up and hide you in the cellars of Scarcliffe Hall, I will not let you near Anna Hawkins again!"

  Jackson cocked his head to one side. "Fighting words, Your Grace."

  "Do not think that I lack the mettle to back them."

  "Do not imagine that I am coward enough to back down."

  "Very well," said Beaumont, through gritted teeth. "I will have your word that you will not go near Anna again – or I'll see you at dawn."

  Jackson blinked, as though surprised that Beaumont had actually gone through with a challenge. He adjusted his gloves briskly, opening his mouth once or twice and clearing his throat. "I accept your challenge," he said, finally. "May I suggest Scarcliffe Forest as a suitable venue? There is a clearing near the bridge which should suit our purposes."

  "As you wish. Have you a sword? Or must I lend you one?"

  Jackson looked surprised. "Not pistols, Your Grace?"

  Beaumont remembered all too well Anna's opinion of men who played with guns. He did not delude himself that she would approve of a duel under any circumstances, but at least he could mitigate the damage. "I do not intend to kill you, Jackson. Only teach you a lesson."

  Jackson had gone rather pale. "I must warn you that I am considered quite the swordsman. I studied fencing in my youth."

  "Then the lesson will be all the more painful for you."

  Beaumont turned on his heel and marched out of the library. He found the butler in the hallway, looking faintly guilty. Well, if Peters was eavesdropping, all the better. Beaumont wanted Jackson's upcoming humiliation to be as widely known as possible. "Show Mr Jackson to the door," he said tersely. "He is not to stay in this house a moment longer."

  He took a moment to compose himself before re-entering the breakfast room. Beaumont was the first to admit that he was a proud creature, and he had a certain sense for drama.

  He strolled in, heard the conversation die as he appeared, felt every man's gaze turn towards him, and spent a great deal of time fastidiously choosing himself three slices of toast and a spoonful of scrambled eggs. He poured himself another cup of coffee. He dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

  "Oh, Scarcliffe," he said, as he lifted his knife and fork. "I trust you are not busy tomorrow morning. I'm afraid I have made an appointment for you."

  "What appointment is that, Beaumont?" asked Robert, with impeccable unconcern.

  "Mr Jackson and I will fight a duel in the forest at dawn. Swords, naturally. Can you spare the time to be my second?"

  "You will what?" spluttered the marquess, knocking over his tea cup.

  "I believe I can accommodate you," Robert drawled. "Father, there's no need to worry. You know what a fine swordsman Beaumont is."

  "I cannot allow this! Not on my own land!"

  "I'm afraid you must allow it," said Beaumont quietly. "My honour demands it."

  Lord Lilistone rose to his feet. "I am going to retire to my chambers. I shall pretend that I have not come down for breakfast at all, and shall start this foul day again from scratch!" He struggled to manoeuvre his walking stick. Hart jumped up and offered him an arm, but was batted away like a fly from the fruit bowl. "Enough! I may be outnumbered in my own home but I'm not dead yet!"

  "I am sorry, Scarcliffe," said Beaumont, once the marquess was gone. "I did not mean to cause your parents any pain, yet it seems that I have now offended both of them."

  "Oh, it serves them right for not returning to Lilistone Manor the moment Father was well enough to travel," said Robert airily. "They knew we were spending the summer as four raucous bachelors. Father will forgive you once he hears that you have given Jackson a good thrashing."

  "A fine bachelors' summer this has turned out to be," said Northmere. “There seem to be broken hearts, duels and engagements every way I turn!”

  Beaumont could not blame him for complaining. Had they not all begun the summer by swearing to forsake women until the next London Season? Northmere would now be the only one to escape Scarcliffe Hall unscathed by feminine influence.

  "Speaking of which," said Beaumont, leaving his toast half-eaten on the plate. "I ought not to waste any more time. I have an urgent appointment with Miss Hawkins."

  Northmere spluttered. Nothing outraged him more than the idea of marriage. "Beaumont! You don't mean –"

  "Don't be too downcast, Northmere," said Beaumont laconically. "I have eve
ry expectation that she will turn me down."

  He left his three friends in three entirely separate moods. Northmere was outraged, and too shocked to express it, Hart was full of concern, and Robert was smiling a rather self-satisfied smile.

  24

  Mrs Pierce could grumble like no-one else on earth.

  "I don't know what I'm expected to serve for dinner," she complained, as Anna, Dr Hawkins and Mr Floyd sat down to a simple luncheon of bread and soup. "You should see the cut of beef the butcher gave me this morning! It'll be tough as old boots, mark my words. And as for those girls outside the dressmaker's! They ought to be ashamed, the lot of 'em. Gossiping away about business that's none of theirs."

  Anna felt the colour heighten in her cheeks. She could guess exactly what the girls had been gossiping about. Her broken engagement and Gilbert’s subsequent plans to abandon Loxton had already spread through the town like wildfire. It did not need a brilliant mind to guess that the source of the rumours was Gilbert himself.

  Judging by Mr Floyd's wooden expression, his patients had already told him more than he wanted to know. Mrs Pierce, who believed every rumour but would never dream of blaming Anna for anything, was indignant. Only Dr Hawkins maintained his composure.

  "I am sure that the butcher did not mean to offend us, Mrs Pierce. You will be able to work your magic with whatever he has given you."

  "We'll see whether our deliveries come tomorrow morning," Mrs Pierce continued darkly. "I predict all manner of nonsense ahead."

  "That's enough, thank you, Mrs Pierce," said the doctor sharply. "Let us try to enjoy our meal in peace."

  A sharp knock at the door came as though in mockery of Dr Hawkins's words.

  "I will go and see who that is," said Mr Floyd, hurrying to his feet. He was very careful not to look at Anna as he edged past her and went to the door.

  To Anna's astonishment, the strident tones of a footman from Scarcliffe Hall rang out loud enough to fill the little house. "His Grace the Duke of Beaumont requests the presence of Dr Hawkins!"

  "What can this be about?" Dr Hawkins grumbled. Reluctantly, he set aside his cutlery. "What do you say, Anna? Should I send him away?"

  "You had better not, Papa." Anna's heart was pounding. Surely there was only one reason why Beaumont would call on her father?

  "And why not? We are at luncheon, after all."

  Mr Floyd came dashing back into the room, looking rather flustered. "The Duke of Beaumont is outside, sir! In the biggest carriage I've ever seen!"

  Anna rolled her eyes. How very like Beaumont, to imagine he needed to put on a show of importance to win her father over.

  "I suppose His Grace wants me to leave my meal to get cold while I go and attend upon him in his carriage?" asked Dr Hawkins. "Very well. What great men want, they often get!"

  "Not at all," came a smooth, pleasant voice from the hallway. Anna’s hand tightened around her soup spoon. Curse him! No other man on earth could sound so utterly charming with only three simple words.

  Dr Hawkins rose abruptly to his feet as the Duke of Beaumont entered the dining room.

  "Do excuse me," said Beaumont, wearing what Anna now recognised as his most amiable society smile. "I did not mean to disturb your luncheon. We keep very different hours at Scarcliffe Hall – much to our discredit, I'm sure." He bowed. "I will come back later."

  "Please stay," Anna blurted out, getting to her feet. She could not bear the suspense if Beaumont should leave. She would not be able to eat another bite.

  "Indeed, you must," said Dr Hawkins, giving Anna a suspicious look. "Your Grace, if you remember where to find the drawing room, I will be with you in a moment. Unless you would care to join us?"

  The doctor's voice was becoming increasingly stilted. Dr Hawkins was never one to display much emotion, but Anna recognised the subtle signs that her father was angry.

  He was no fool. He must surely have realised the identity of Anna’s mysterious man.

  "Thank you, but I must decline," said Beaumont. He had still not looked once in Anna's direction. "I find I have little appetite today. There's no rush at all. I shall wait at your disposal."

  He left them. Anna pressed a nerveless hand to her chest. She felt that if she did not muffle her heartbeat, it would soon be loud enough that even Mr Floyd would hear it.

  "So," said Dr Hawkins. Anna could not bear to look at him. She could hear the fury hidden within his tightly-controlled voice, and it filled her with shame. "That is one mystery easily solved, I think."

  To Anna's surprise, Mr Floyd laid a brotherly hand on her arm. "I am not afraid to throw a duke out of the house for you," he murmured. "If that is what you wish."

  "I think we must let His Grace have his say," said Dr Hawkins. "Anna, you will want to join this conversation. Let it not be said that I decide my daughter's fate in her absence. Floyd?" A brief grin flashed across his face, even at the height of his anger. "Try to restrain Mrs Pierce from eavesdropping too flagrantly."

  "Papa," Anna began, in the brief moment they were alone together in the hall. Dr Hawkins shook his head abruptly.

  "I did not raise you to be a foolish girl. I knew you did not love Mr Jackson, of course, but to fling your reputation away on the dream of a duke? You know better, my dear."

  "You are angry with me," she murmured, eyes low. Dr Hawkins stopped at the drawing room door and lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him.

  "I am angry with that man. I am angry with all men who do not deserve my angel of a daughter. Whatever compensation the duke has come to offer you, we will reject it in good grace and hold our heads high."

  The thought that Beaumont might have come to pay her off had not even occurred to Anna. Could it be that she had completely misread his emotions the night before?

  No. He loved her. She was sure of it. But she did not yet know whether mere love was enough to tempt a duke to marriage.

  Beaumont was standing at the window, arms crossed over his chest. He was looking at his gilded carriage outside with an air of regret. "You must forgive the pomp," he said, waving a distracted hand towards it. "I thought I had better come officially, for once." Now, at last, his eyes traced Anna's face. She felt his gaze as keenly as though his hands were caressing her cheek. "I thought... I thought I might speak to Miss Hawkins alone, first."

  "You have had more than enough time alone with her," growled Dr Hawkins. Beaumont nodded, drawing himself up a little straighter.

  "If that is your wish. I won't draw things out unnecessarily. Dr Hawkins, I mean to marry your daughter."

  Anna let out a sharp gasp. She hardly knew how she felt. Surprise, relief and apprehension battled together in her chest.

  Now, at last, Beaumont looked at her. His jaw was tight. She had never seen him so serious before.

  "That is," he amended, "if she'll have me. And with your permission, sir."

  Anna reminded herself to breathe, and sat down in the chair beside her father. Beaumont's frown of concern deepened, but he waited patiently for the doctor to respond.

  "This is… unexpected," said Dr Hawkins. For once, Anna could not read him. Was he pleased? "I am not the sort of man to impose upon my child, Your Grace. The choice must be hers alone."

  "Quite right," said Beaumont, with a tight, mirthless smile. He looked rather like a man who had just been led to the scaffold and had the noose tightened around his neck. If Anna had ever been bold enough to picture the moment Beaumont proposed, she would have imagined quite a different expression.

  "Anna?" said Dr Hawkins. "Do you have an answer for the duke?" He bent down to murmur in her ear, "You do not need to decide now. Do not let him pressure you!"

  "Papa," she said, fighting to keep herself steady. "Please leave us alone for a moment."

  Dr Hawkins glanced at Beaumont with such suspicion he might as well have been an urchin the doctor had caught with his hand in a rich man's purse. "My dear, I do not think –"

  "Please," said Anna. She did not
often speak sternly to her father. They spent most days in domestic contentment. She knew that when she did need to put her foot down, he would listen.

  "Very well," said Dr Hawkins. He shot one final warning glance at Beaumont, the effect of which was slightly marred by his respectful bow. "Your Grace. I will be waiting in my consulting room."

  The moment the doctor was gone, Anna was astonished to find Beaumont down on one knee before her.

  "I have made a mess of things, have I not?" he said ruefully. "I ought to have told you last night. No, I ought to have told you the very moment we met. I never meant to damage your reputation. No, that isn't right either. I did mean to. I wanted you so much that I forgot the proper way to do things, the right way to behave. Miss Hawkins – Anna – you have overwhelmed me. I fear I will never be able to call myself a good man again if you do not accept me now."

  Anna extended a hand towards him, which Beaumont clasped. He lowered his forehead to press against it and waited, head bowed, for her response.

  "You cannot mean to make me a duchess," said Anna. "It is simply impossible."

  "And why is that?" he asked, lifting his eyes. "You are the most capable woman I have ever met."

  "And you are a flatterer of the first order." He had coaxed a smile from her against her will. "Tell me, Your Grace, and be truthful... you are not proposing to me out of guilt? I assure you that I can survive the consequences of last night on my own."

  Beaumont ran his thumb over the back of her hand with tantalising gentleness. "I do not doubt it. But you know enough of me, I think, to know that I do not give my heart lightly. I asked you to be my mistress, once, in this very room. Would that self-satisfied seducer have proposed to you once he'd had his way? You have made me a different man. I feel as though I hardly recognise the person I was before you."

  "Do you not?" asked Anna gently. "I think I can see a few similarities, myself. Come and sit down, Your Grace. There's no need for you to wear out the knees of your trousers while we discuss what to do."