Summer Folly

by Kruger, Mary

  “Do you know, that is the first time you’ve used my name?”

  “I don’t spoil him, Your Grace.” She bit the words off. “He is a normal, lively child, thank heavens. I never could abide those quiet, well-behaved children who sneak around and misbehave when you’re not looking. Jamie’s not like that. Nor am I. People noticed me.” She paused. “They still do.”

  “Mm-hm. Jamie will have to behave himself at Tremont.”

  “He will. Oh, he’s so excited about going to a real castle. He’s disappointed there won’t be any knights.” She smiled. “Do you remember, we used to play Robin Hood? You’d be Robin, and Freddie always loved playing the Sheriff, I never did know why. And I’d be Maid Marion.”

  “We were children, Anne.”

  “And then you and Freddie would have those ferocious battles with toy soldiers. You always won the colonies back from the Americans, I remember. Do you still have those? Jamie would love them.”

  “They’re put away. They’re quite valuable, you know.”

  “Is that the true worth of something, Your Grace?”

  “They are no longer appropriate as toys.” Giles sipped at his wine again. “I notice you’re not wearing black.”

  “Freddie has been dead for over a year.”

  “Why not half-mourning, then?”

  “Giles, wearing dark colors in a place like Jamaica makes no sense. It’s too hot.”

  “But you’re not in Jamaica anymore.”

  Anne opened her mouth, and then shut it again. “Well,” she said, staring fixedly at her soup. “Have you any other criticisms of me?”

  “I’m not criticizing you,” he protested.

  “No?”

  “No. At least, I didn’t mean to.” He sat back as their dishes were removed and a succulent roast was served, along with new potatoes and minted peas. “You’ve been away from England a long time. You may have forgotten how to go on.”

  “And you plan to teach me? Oh, Tremont!”

  He looked surprised by her laughter. “What?”

  “When you used to be as active as I. You were the one who led Freddie and me into mischief, as I recall.”

  “I’ve grown up, Anne.”

  “So have I.” Serious now, she laid down her fork. “I’ve had to. I’m not the same as I was seven years ago.”

  Giles shifted in his seat. “A lot has happened since then.”

  “Yes, of course.” She hadn’t meant to talk about the past. She hadn’t meant to bring up what had once been between them, at least, not yet. Maybe not ever. “You needn’t worry I’ll disgrace you, Your Grace. I do know how to behave.”

  The look Giles gave her was doubtful. Anne stared steadily back at him, daring him to answer. At last, with a little shrug, he picked up his fork again. “Then we can at least converse like civilized people. Did you have a pleasant journey?”

  “Tolerable.” There, let him see that she could be as civilized as he.

  “And are you glad to be home?”

  “Yes.” Anne’s smile softened. “Yes, I am. I didn’t expect to be, you know. I love Jamaica. But when we made port—well, I didn’t realize I’d missed it so much.” She glanced up, her gaze encompassing the huge hearth, the plaster walls, the oak beams darkened by the years. “It’s so—so English. I’d forgotten how green the grass is, and that houses look like this and,” as the sound of raindrops hitting the diamond-paned windows reached them, “that it rains so much. Obadiah will have trouble accustoming himself to that.”

  “I think we’ll leave off discussing him until we reach Tremont Castle.”

  Anne started to speak, and then smiled. “Very well. I suppose it wouldn’t do for us to quarrel my first night home.”

  “We aren’t going to quarrel.”

  “Oh, I think we are, Your Grace. Without a doubt.”

  Giles leaned back, studying her with a little frown. “You have changed. You never used to be so contrary, Anne. Flighty, yes, but not contentious.”

  “How kind of you to pay me such nice compliments. I could add that you never used to be pompous or arrogant, but we did just promise not to quarrel, did we not?”

  “So we did.” He held up his wine glass in a mock salute, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  He had changed, Anne thought. Once he had laughed at jokes, even against himself. Now he seemed so filled with his own consequence that all traces of humor were gone. A shame, that. Whatever else one said about Freddie, there was no denying he’d had a sense of humor. It had sometimes been his only saving grace. “Tell me about your life now, Your Grace.”

  He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I didn’t go off to the West Indies.”

  The bitterness in his voice startled her. “But you’re the duke now. You must have responsibilities you didn’t have before. Have you sat in Parliament?”

  “Yes. I do so every spring.”

  “Oh! So you’re in London for the season. How exciting.”

  He shook his head. “No. I rarely go out, or entertain.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ve found there’s more to life than parties and socializing.”

  “That sounds very like something your mother would say.”

  “She’d be right,” he said, imperturbably. “I knew ever since my brother died I would be duke, and that I’d have duties. I’m the head of the family now, and I have estates to run. I’m also the magistrate for the neighborhood.”

  “How interesting.”

  Giles slanted her a suspicious look. “I think so.”

  “And your mother and sister? Are they well?”

  “Yes. Mother has some rheumatism, but I suppose that’s to be expected for her age.”

  “Mm-hm. Beth never married?”

  “No. She believes her place is at home.”

  Anne laid down her fork. “And you countenance that?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “But she’s so pretty and sweet. For her not to marry is a waste.”

  “You know nothing about it,” he said, sharply, and after a moment, she shrugged.

  “No, I don’t, do I?” She applied herself to her food. Even the rich roast beef, something she had missed in Jamaica, couldn’t distract her from her thoughts. Poor Beth, not allowed to marry, by the sound of it; poor Giles, thinking that was natural. He had never married. She wondered why. And poor me. The prospect of living at Tremont Castle was even less appealing than it had been. Thank heavens it was only for the summer. No matter what Giles might think, she and Jamie would soon be on their way home.

  They finished the meal in silence. When the sweet had been served, Anne rose. “I’ve had a long day, Your Grace. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to my room now.”

  Giles inclined his head. “Good night, Anne.”

  “Good night.”

  In her room, Anne undressed quickly and fell into the deep feather bed. Deliciously warm and cozy though it was, she couldn’t sleep. Her mind was too filled with all that she’d seen and done that day. It was too filled with thoughts of Giles. The weeks ahead were not going to be easy. Of course she hadn’t expected them to be, but she had thought she would find some common ground with him. Like it or not, he did have the final say on Jamie’s destiny, and hers, as well. It was unfair that he should have such control over their fortunes when she had shown herself to be a good estate manager, but that was the law. Bemoaning it would do her little good. As far as Giles was concerned, he was far more qualified to run her life, simply because he was a man.

  Oh, the arrogance of him! Anne sat up, punched her pillow, and then flopped down again. He’d never been like that before. Serious, yes, solemn, even, at times, but then, in his circumstances, who wouldn’t be? The responsibilities awaiting him had always been impressed upon him, so that he had never seemed as carefree as other children she’d known, even allowing for the age difference. Yet he’d had his moments. When he had come to visit his relatives, neighbors to Anne’s family, he’d led Freddie and her i
nto mischief more than once. And then, there had been that season. That one, magical season, seven years ago...

  No. She wouldn’t think about that. It was over, past, done with. The man she had known then was gone. If he had changed, though, she had, too, and that was something she didn’t think he yet appreciated. If he thought she would tamely submit to his edicts, he would soon learn differently. She had no intention of letting the Duke of Tremont dictate to her.

  With that thought in mind, Anne turned over yet again, pulled the pillow over her head, and at last fell asleep.

  The carriages behind him, traveling at a slower pace, were visible only by the clouds of dust they stirred up. Bent low over his horse’s neck, Giles galloped recklessly, the only release he allowed himself anymore. He had responsibilities, duties he’d never had as a young man. He couldn’t behave as he had then, even had he wanted to. No, he was perfectly content with his life. So why was he feeling so restless?

  It had seemed a simple enough thing to do, to meet his cousin’s widow upon her return to England and take charge of her son. He was, after all, head of the family. Simple, yes. Easy, no. He should have realized that, where Anne was concerned, nothing would be easy. He’d got over her long ago. He had. He just hadn’t been prepared for the reality of seeing her again.

  God! He dug his knees in harder, and Wildfire, his mount, lengthened his stride even more. She was more beautiful than ever. How could that be? She was older, and he’d always understood that life in the tropics was hard on a woman. Yet there she had stood, her skin unfashionably brown, true, but glowing; her outfit undoubtedly not in the first stare of fashion, but flattering to a figure that was curvier, more lush, than he’d remembered. She was not the girl he had known. She was a woman, adventurous, outgoing, vivacious, everything he was not, everything he didn’t want to be. And she’d not been happy to see him again.

  Flecks of foam were appearing on Wildfire’s neck, and he eased up, patting the horse and straightening in the saddle. They had a long road ahead of them, and it wasn’t fair to take his frustrations out on his horse. But then, Anne had always had that effect on him. He didn’t like that. He liked being cool, calm, in control. In the space of just a few hours Anne had nearly made him lose that control. He didn’t think she knew it, but when she had curtsied to him last night, showing an immodest, but very attractive, amount of bosom—

  He shifted in the saddle. Very well, she was beautiful. He’d been with beautiful women before and remained unscathed. He’d manage now. What bothered him more was her lack of deference to him. Him, the head of the family, and a man. Good God, she had warned him that they would quarrel. Why hadn’t he left well enough alone and left them in Jamaica?

  But, there it was. He had a duty to Freddie’s son, to see that he was properly educated and that his property was well managed. The changes Anne had made in the management of Hampshire Hall, installing a former slave as overseer, finding new markets for the plantation’s produce, planting new crops, made him profoundly uneasy, even if they had worked. Things were best done as they always had been, the time-honored way. Whether Anne liked it or not, he would run things as he saw fit.

  Turning in the saddle, he saw that the carriages had drawn nearer. The impulse to ride back and check on his guests’ comfort was almost irresistible, but he managed to stifle it. What good would it do him? Anne would likely say or do something outrageous, and Jamie would be pert. And he would be left with a picture of bouncing strawberry blond curls and cornflower blue eyes. He wasn’t attracted to her. He couldn’t be. He had his life well in order, and there was no place in it for a woman so lively, so outspoken, as Anne. When they had matters settled to his satisfaction, he would allow her to live as she pleased, whether here or in Jamaica. Then he’d be done with her. Until then, however, it was going to be a very long summer. God help him.

  By the time they had traversed most of Hampshire and were nearing Tremont Castle, the skies had clouded over, making the day gloomy and damp. The coachman kept casting uneasy glances up at the sky, but it wasn’t until they were actually on the drive to the castle that the storm broke. Thunder clashed, and bolts of lightning made the foliage of rhododendron and azalea flash theatrically bright. Giles bolted for shelter, and, inside the carriage, Anne tried to hold onto what remained of her sanity, while Nurse muttered prayers and Jamie imitated thunderclaps. It needed only this. Anything more different from Hampshire Hall, she couldn’t imagine.

  Shouted on by the coachman, the team rocketed down the drive. The carriage rocked for a moment as it went over the drawbridge, darkened momentarily under the shadows of the portcullis, and at last came to a stop under a more modern portico. They had arrived at Tremont Castle.

  Jamie was bouncing up and down in his seat. “Mommy, where’s the moat?”

  “Outside the wall, pet, where it belongs. Now, Jamie, I want you to mind your manners. You’re going to be meeting a very grand lady.”

  The carriage door opened, and Giles was there, holding out his hand to help her down. They were under shelter, but the gusty wind drove in sheets of rain that quickly penetrated the thin muslin of Anne’s gown. Giles held a coat over her as she scurried inside, stopping at last in the hall. All was as she remembered, she thought, looking around. The small door to the castle gave no clue to the magnificence inside, so that most visitors were dazzled. Though Tremont Castle was centuries old, this was no medieval hall. Rather, it was a splendid space, tiled in marble, with a graceful staircase branching up to the main floor of the house, where the State rooms were located. On a summer day this was one of the more welcoming rooms in the castle, with sun streaming through the oriel windows set high up in the wall, but today it was dark and gloomy. Anne shivered with more than just the cold as she turned to smile at the servants, lined up to greet them. Goodness, there was old Benson, who’d been butler here when she was a child. He was smaller than she remembered, and wiry, but he held himself so proudly he seemed tall. He also looked as starched-up as ever. And Mrs. MacPherson, the cook, who looked round and jolly but who had rapped Anne on the back of her hand with a wooden spoon for stealing cookies. The impulse to curtsy struck her, but this time she resisted it. Like Giles, they would neither understand, nor appreciate, the gesture.

  She smiled instead, stepping forward. “Benson, how nice,” she began, and stopped. For all the attention the staff was paying her, she might have been invisible. Instead, they were looking past her, the expressions on their faces ranging from consternation to mild shock. Anne turned to see what they were looking at, and saw only Obadiah, carrying in a trunk on his shoulder. What in the world?

  At that moment, thunder crashed overhead, making her jump. She turned, and in the following flash of lightning, a squat, brooding figure was briefly, brightly illuminated on the grand staircase. “So. You’ve come back,” the figure said, and the lightning flashed once again.

  Chapter Three

  For a moment the group in the hall stood transfixed, even Obadiah standing with that special stillness that was his alone. Then Giles moved, crossing the hall. “Good evening, Mother. I trust your headache is better?”

  “Tolerably, tolerably.” Julia, Duchess of Tremont, waddled down the remaining stairs, short but substantial in black bombazine. Behind her flitted a slender figure in gray. Good heavens, this woman had nearly been her mother-in-law, Anne thought. What a lucky escape she had had.

  “Your Grace,” she said, and swept into a curtsy that, this time, held nothing of mockery. “Thank you for inviting me to visit.”

  “Hmph.” Julia stopped before Anne, looking up at her. She was a little dumpling of a woman with a face that had once been pretty, and even now should have been congenial. Instead it looked discontented, the mouth narrow and bracketed by lines, the eyes suspicious. She had never liked Anne, and that, apparently, hadn’t changed. Anne hadn’t expected it to. “Giles told me what he was going to do, and so it was his decision. He is head of the family now.”

  “
Yes, ma’am.”

  “Mama!” Jamie called from across the hall, where a suit of armor stood, somewhat incongruously among the marble and gilt, at the bottom of the stairs. Some illustrious Templeton ancestor had doubtless worn it in battle. “There are knights here!” He turned his shining gaze up at Giles, whose face was impassive. “Do you wear this?”

  Anne laughed. “Oh, Giles, do you remember the time when you did put it on? When we were playing knights and ladies—I unseated Freddie, as I recall—and then we couldn’t get you out of it.”

  “Giles never did anything so foolish.” Julia sailed majestically past Anne. “We’ll have tea in the small drawing room. You’ll want to wash the dust of the road off you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Anne watched the duchess go, suddenly recognizing the woman who followed in her train. Giles’s sister. “Beth! How lovely to see you again.”

  Beth turned and gave her a shy smile, but the duchess cut off anything she might have said. “Come, Elizabeth. I need you.” Beth’s face turned crimson and her smile looked forced as she hurried on behind her mother. Good lord, what was wrong with this household?

  “I was right, lady,” Obadiah said, his voice low. “There is a dragon in this house, and we’ve just met her.”

  “Oh, hush, Diah!” She stepped away from him, before she betrayed herself by laughing. The entire incident reminded her of nothing so much as a gothicky novel. Let’s see, what one? Oh, yes. The Dark Castle. Heavens!

  “Mama.” Jamie hurtled himself at her. “Can I go sploring?”

  “No, Jamie, no exploring yet. Remember what I told you,” she went on, as Jamie opened his mouth to protest.

  “Yes, Mama,” he said, docile now. “I’ll be good.”

  “Good.” She bent down, fondling his silky curls. “Later on, you and I will go sploring together. All right?”

  Jamie’s face lit up in a beatific smile. “Yes, Mama.”

  “Come.” Putting her hands on his shoulder, she turned him toward the stairs. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”