by Kruger, Mary
“Yes, Mommy.” Jamie beamed at her.
Benson’s face had gone red. “I thought that was to be our secret, lad,” he said. In spite of his discomfiture and the small boy clinging to him, he somehow managed to hold onto his dignity.
“But Mommy needed her bonnet,” Jamie said, torn, for the first time in his memory by conflicting loyalties. “Did I do something bad?”
“N-no, Jamie.” Anne had herself under control now, and was wiping her eyes. “You did exactly right. But you, sir. Are you really the ghost?”
Benson bowed his head. “Alas, madam, I fear I am.”
“But your name’s not Terence,” she said, knowing it sounded absurd. What did one say to a self-confessed ghost?
“William Terence O’Neill Benson,” he said, rather proudly. “My mother was Irish. And my brother was in the navy.”
“Oh. That explains the choice of songs.”
Benson reddened again. “Well, yes,” he said, and Anne again went off into peals of laughter. Benson, stiff, dignified and proper, singing bawdy songs and leading everyone on a wild chase? But who else was better suited to the part? As butler, he knew everything about this house, and the people in it. The only question was, why?
“What is going on?” a voice said crisply from down the hall.
“Uncle Giles!” Jamie released Benson and ran to Giles. “I found Terence.”
“You what?” Giles looked at Anne for confirmation, but she had her head down and was laughing helplessly. “Anne, what in the world?”
“Ahem.” Benson stepped forward. “I fear I have a confession to make, sir. I have been pretending to be a ghost.”
Giles looked from him to Anne. “Has everyone in this house run mad?”
“Oh, it’s quite true,” Anne said, wiping her eyes. “His middle name is T-Terence!”
“For God’s sake.” Giles dropped down beside Anne, who was off again. “Whatever possessed you to do such a thing, Benson?”
“Yes, Benson.” Anne’s voice quivered with laughter. “Why did you do it?”
“Because her Grace asked me to, of course. Oh, dear.” The two people on the stairs were staring at him, the mirth slowly fading from their faces. “Oh, dear, I’ve put my foot in it this time, haven’t I?”
“Quite,” Giles said, his voice grim. “Are you saying the duchess asked you to impersonate a ghost?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Benson bowed his head. “I’ll quite understand, sir, if you wish to sack me. I see now I quite deserve it. Although I might remind you, my family—”
“Has served mine for years. I’ll take that into consideration, but—”
“Uncle Giles, don’t!” Jamie wailed.
“Hush, Jamie!” Anne said sharply. “Go upstairs to Nurse, now. I’ll be up to talk with you later.”
“Good God.” Giles was shaking his head. “Why would the duchess ask you to do such a thing, Benson?”
“You’ll have to ask her Grace, sir. Although—”
“Yes?”
“She doesn’t like Brighton. She hasn’t felt at all well since we arrived here.”
“Hasn’t she?” Giles said in surprise.
“No, Your Grace. But if she knows I told you that, she’ll sack me herself.”
Giles and Anne exchanged glances, and then rose. “Thank you, Benson, that will be all. Will you please go to your quarters until I call for you?”
Benson bowed his head. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Oh, and Benson.”
Benson turned, just as he was about to go through the green baize door at the end of the hall. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Whom did Mr. Freebody and I chase the night we thought there was a ghost at the window? You were here all along.”
“No one, sir. At least, no one I know.”
“So we let ourselves be fooled,” Giles said, ruefully. “No wonder we didn’t catch anyone.”
“No, Your Grace.” Benson’s voice was wistful. “It was rather fun while it lasted.”
Again Giles and Anne exchanged glances. “You may go, Benson,” Giles said.
“Yes, Your Grace. I’m sorry, Your Grace,” Benson said, and at last left the hall.
“Benson. Good God.” Giles rubbed at his chin. “No wonder we couldn’t find out who the ghost was.”
“I know.” Anne shook her head as they began to ascend the stairs, toward the drawing room. “He seems so unlikely.”
“Yes, but he’s loyal to my mother.”
“Giles.” Anne stopped on the landing. “Why in the world would she do such a thing, when someone could have been hurt—Giles!” She gripped his arm. “Jamie. When I think of what could have happened to Jamie—”
“Anne. Listen to me.” Giles put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I’m angry, too. But let us hear what she has to say—”
“That’s flummery, Giles! My child could have been hurt, or I could have lost him altogether. If you had a child, you’d understand, but how can you—”
“I care about Jamie,” he said, sharply. “Don’t you think I was worried about him, too, the night he was missing? But, be fair, Anne. No one meant any harm to come to him.”
“No, but it happened, anyway, and all because of some silly, stupid scheme. God knows why.”
Giles was afraid he knew quite well what the reason behind the scheme had been. To separate him from Anne. If so, it had backfired. “I’ll talk with her.”
“Of course we will. I want to know what she thought she was doing.”
“No. I’ll talk to her alone.”
“But—”
“It’s my problem, Anne.”
“After what she did?”
“It’s my problem. My mother, my problem.” His gaze softened. “Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of letting you or Jamie come to any harm.”
“I didn’t think that.”
“No, but you don’t quite believe it yet, do you?” With the back of his fingers, he stroked her cheek. “Trust me to take care of this, Anne. I promise I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.” She gazed up at him, mesmerized by his touch, his eyes, and then broke away. What was she doing? Now was not the time to be acting like some silly moonling. “I’ll be with Jamie,” she said, and then, to both their surprise, reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “For luck,” she said, and quickly ran up the stairs.
Giles followed more slowly, heading toward his mother’s room. He did not relish the prospect of the next hour or so.
Sometime later, Giles knocked at Anne’s door. He looked tired, she thought, older, with lines around his eyes she’d never noticed before. She’d thought that he enjoyed being duke, and that he liked his duties, but now she could see it was a burden to him, too. Anything that happened in the family was his responsibility. He had to be the one in charge, the one who took care of things. Who, though, took care of him?
Impulsively she reached out and took his arm. “Come in and sit down, Giles.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be proper. I just wanted to tell you—”
“Oh, bother proper! Very well, if you won’t, then let us at least go down to the drawing room.”
“Anne, let’s deal with this with as little fuss as possible,” he said, but his tone of voice belied his words. He made no further protest as Anne steered him toward the stairs, nor did he appear to mind when they went into the drawing room and she closed the door behind them. Wordlessly she crossed the room and poured out a measure of brandy. Equally wordlessly he took it from her, drinking it down in one long draught.
“Ah.” He set the glass down, hard, on the table next to him. “That was good. Not a good way to drink a fine brandy, though.” Wearily he rubbed at his forehead. “I have had better days.”
“Your mother?”
His hand dropped. “Oh, she did it. She admitted it.”
“Good lord! But why, Giles?”
“I don’t really know. Not much of what she said made se
nse.” He got up and paced over to a window. “She’s not well, Anne. She hasn’t been since we got here, though she didn’t say anything. Apparently the sea air has bothered her rheumatism.”
“Yes, but Giles, the hauntings started right away.”
“No, they didn’t.” He turned. “When we arrived, Benson told her the rumors. That gave her the idea. As you recall, she never wanted to come here.” He paused. “She didn’t mean any harm to come to anyone, Anne. She was horrified when Jamie went missing. All she wanted was to go home.”
“She must be very unhappy.”
Giles turned and stared at her in surprise. “You’re taking this better than I’d expected.”
“Yes, well, I’ve been thinking about it.” What, she had wondered, could have made Julia do such an outrageous thing? What could mean so much to her? The answer to that question had come quickly, out of Anne’s own experience. Her children. Out of the desire to protect her children had come the scheme to make the house appear haunted, and bring them back to the safety of Tremont Castle. It didn’t matter that Giles and Beth were grown, or that Anne herself believed that Julia was wrong about what was best for them. Julia had done what she thought she had to for her children, and for that Anne felt a reluctant sympathy. She wouldn’t tell Giles any of this, though. It would only add to his burden.
“She’s old, Giles,” she said, her voice gentle. “It’s the first time she’s left Tremont since losing your father, and it must have been hard on her. I’m not saying what she did was right, but, except for Jamie, no harm was done. And who could have predicted what he would do?”
“She cares about Jamie, you know.”
“Yes, I know she does. And I know she wouldn’t have hurt him deliberately.” She got up and poured him another brandy. “What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? We’ll go back to Tremont, of course. We were going to soon, in any event. Summer’s over.”
Anne glanced away. Summer was, indeed, over, and with it the hopes that had been slowly growing inside her. Foolish of her. After all this time, all that she’d been through, she really should have known better. “We have yet to decide Jamie’s future.”
“I know. We’ll discuss that at Tremont. Somehow, this”—he glanced around the room—“doesn’t seem the proper place.”
Anne’s smile was tinged with sadness and nostalgia. “It was great fun, Giles. Most of it.”
“Yes. Fun, and folly.” The look he gave her was quizzical. “If you’d had any idea when you came here what would happen, would you have come?”
Anne rose. He wasn’t referring to the hauntings, or his mother, or Jamie’s future. He was talking about what had happened between them. “I had no choice, did I, Your Grace?”
“Anne—”
“Never mind. As you said, it was folly.” She smiled at him, and left the room.
Folly? Giles reconsidered the word as he stood there alone, breathing in the memory of her perfume. Had it really been folly? Yes, that was his word, and perhaps several months ago he would have meant it. So much had happened this summer, turning his neat, predictable world upside-down, that he had been in a constant state of confusion. His mind had cleared now, though. He knew, at last, what he wanted. He wanted to live at Tremont and enjoy the life he’d built these past years, but he wanted to do so on his own terms. He wanted to be his own man, not simply following his duty as it had been outlined for him. Most of all, he wanted Anne.
Folly? No. To the contrary, it was the wisest decision he’d ever made. He wanted Anne. If she really thought he was going to let her go, she was in for a surprise. This time, he was going to fight for her.
With her plot discovered, Julia gave up all opposition to Beth’s wedding; Giles gave her little choice. Plans were quickly put into train, before Thomas was sent to take up his post in Spain. A special license was procured, arrangements made at the church, and invitations were sent out for the wedding breakfast. Giles had suggested returning to Tremont, where Beth could be married from her home by the Reverend Goodfellow, but she had refused the suggestion. There wasn’t the time to travel there. She wanted to be with Thomas for as long as possible, before he had to go.
Since Julia genuinely was not well, much of the work of the wedding fell on Anne’s shoulders. She was glad of it. The distractions of choosing floral arrangements and deciding on a menu, of organizing a wedding party and helping Beth find just the right gown, were welcome. They kept her from thinking about things that were best forgotten.
On the morning of the wedding Anne stood with Beth, ethereally lovely in ivory satin and white roses, in the vestibule of St. Nicholas’s, arranging her train so that it fell just so. “Beth, you look beautiful,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork. “Lieutenant Bancroft is a lucky man.”
“Thank you.” Beth flashed her a smile. “I intend to see to it he knows it, too.”
Anne laughed. Beth had changed since coming to Brighton. Gone was the shy, plain girl who had allowed others to rule her life; in her place was a vibrant, confident, serene woman. “Good for you.”
“Oh, I can’t thank you enough, for all you’ve done.” Beth grasped her hands. “And I’m so glad you agreed to be my matron of honor. I want this to be a special day. I want Thomas to have happy memories.”
Anne picked up her own bouquet. “Why shouldn’t he? You and he are going to have a happy life together.”
Beth’s smile dimmed, and her serenity momentarily faltered. “He’s leaving next week. Oh, Anne, I don’t know if I can bear it.”
“Beth.” Anne grasped her hand. “You’ll find you can bear whatever you have to.”
“I know. And I shan’t cry. Thomas deserves better.” She smiled again, and it was as if the dark moment had never been. “But, oh, Anne, stand by me! I shall need you so.”
“Of course I will.” Anne patted her hand, impressed and a little surprised. There were depths of strength in Beth she had never suspected were there. Thomas Bancroft would leave for his post next week, never realizing how unhappy his bride was. She would make the leave-taking easy for him, and that took courage. Anne only hoped she would be as strong when the time came for her to leave, too.
“Giles.” Beth held out her hand as he slipped into the vestibule from the church. “Is Mother all settled?”
“Yes.” He smiled down at her as he tucked her hand through his arm. “It’s time, Bethie. Your lieutenant is waiting for you.”
Beth’s smile was brilliant. “Wish me happy, Giles?”
“You know I do.” He bent to kiss her cheek, catching Anne’s eyes as he straightened. Her own eyes faltered, and she went to stand before them, waiting for the processional music to begin. She could feel his gaze on her back. Why was he looking at her so? It was an intent gaze, a burning gaze, quite inappropriate for a wedding. For someone else’s wedding, she thought, and felt suddenly very warm.
To Anne’s eternal gratitude the music began, and she stepped down the aisle. People smiled at her, and then past her, at Beth. At last she was at the altar, taking Beth’s bouquet, helping her with her train. Then there was nothing for her to do but to step back and watch the wedding.
And to see Giles, who had returned to his seat in the first pew, next to Julia, staring at her.
Anne’s throat went dry. It wasn’t that he was so handsome, although in his gray morning coat, immaculate and impeccable, he was. It wasn’t just that he was looking at her as no other man ever had, with a barely disguised hunger that both scared and elated her, and a tenderness that was vastly reassuring. It was also where they were and what they were doing, and what might have been between them, had fate not intervened. She felt, not like a bridesmaid, but like the bride.
I, Giles...
I, Anne...
Take thee to my lawful wedded wife...
My lawful wedded husband...
To have and to hold, Anne...
In richer and poorer...
For better, for worse...
>
From this day forward...
Forever, Anne.
Forever, Giles.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the minister said, and Anne jumped, coming back to reality. Not her wedding at all, though Giles was still looking at her, his lips slightly puckered. Flustered, Anne stepped forward, to hand Beth her bouquet, and then watched, smiling, as Lieutenant Bancroft and his bride exchanged their first kiss as man and wife. Instinctively her eyes sought Giles’s, to share the moment, and again his lips moved. She glanced quickly away, feeling her cheeks go pink and her own lips tingle, just as if he had kissed her. Heavens! What was wrong with her? She hadn’t felt this way even at her own wedding.
Beth and Thomas left the church among a hail of congratulations and a shower of rice. Anne, escorted by Mr. Seward, the best man, smiled and smiled, but her mind was far away. She felt as married now as she ever had, as if she had indeed gone through the ceremony. Something had happened to her when she had looked at Giles. Without her realizing it, the last of her fears had slipped away, leaving her free. She was whole again, herself again. The scars from her marriage had healed, leaving her stronger. She could do anything she wanted to do, including marry again, if she so desired. This time, though, she knew more. This time she would be more careful in her choice.
Her eyes sought Giles’s. He was standing at the bottom of the church steps, his hand at Julia’s elbow, supporting her. As if he felt Anne’s gaze, he looked up. He smiled at her, a smile of complicity and shared secrets, a smile meant for her alone. Giles wasn’t Freddie. For the first time she felt the truth of that deep within herself. Nor was she the same as she once had been. Giles had his faults, but brutishness was not among them. Even had it been, she needn’t fear that she would lose all she had worked so hard for, her precious self-confidence and independence. Those would always be a part of her, no matter what she chose to do with her life. No man could ever take them away from her again.
And so she returned the smile, adding to it her own message, an unspoken promise, knowing Giles would understand. Weddings affected Anne, made her feel romantic, but there was more than that at work here. At last she had overcome the past, and the future lay before her. A future with Giles.