Summer Folly

by Kruger, Mary

  “Don’t want another pony. I want to stay here with Uncle Giles and Aunt Julia.”

  “Oh, Jamie.”

  “I’ll take him below, ma’am.” Their new nurse, a young, no-nonsense woman with the saving grace of humor, came forward and took Jamie’s hand. “He’s over t-i-r-e-d,” she said, resorting to spelling so that Jamie wouldn’t understand.

  “I’m not tired, Mommy!”

  “Of course not, pet.” Anne smiled at him. “Why don’t you take Nurse below and show her where everything is?” She went down on one knee. “She’s never been to sea before, you know. You’ll have to help her get used to everything.”

  Jamie gave her a look that said clearly that he saw through that nonsense, but he didn’t protest when Nurse took his hand. “All right. I’ll go. But I don’t want to, and you can’t make me!”

  “Oh, dear.” Anne rose to her feet as Jamie walked away. “He’s terribly angry with me, Obadiah.”

  Obadiah glanced at Jamie, and then turned back to her. “Are you sure you’re doin’ the right thing, lady?”

  “Oh, Diah, not you, too?”

  “The duke doesn’t want you to go. Could see it in his eyes, lady.”

  “Diah—”

  “I said I saw hauntings, a dragon, and a fair knight, lady, when we arrived.”

  “You were jesting.”

  “Yes, lady. But we did have the hauntings and the dragon.”

  Anne looked away. “I don’t want a fair knight, Diah,” she said, finally. “I want a man. But he wants a duchess.”

  “He wants you for his duchess. There’s a difference, lady.”

  “Not much.” Anne looked up at the sails, and sighed. “Well, we’re here, Diah. There’s no turning back.”

  “Not if you don’t want to, lady.” He bowed. “Best I go see everything’s settled below.”

  Anne smiled. “Thank you, Diah,” she said, and moved away.

  The wind was fresh, offshore. The tide was just coming to the full and soon would turn, rushing out to sea again. With it would go the ship, to meet the convoy with which it would travel across the Atlantic, protected from Napoleon’s navy. The crew scurried about the deck, raising the anchor, readying lines, unfurling sail. Careful to keep out of everyone’s way, Anne made her way aft, to the stern of the ship. With the captain’s compliments, she had been invited to stand on the quarterdeck as they cast off. From there she would have the best vantage point to see their departure.

  At the taffrail in the stern of the ship, she stopped. Before her lay a forest of mast and spars, and, farther away, the waterfront of Portsmouth. All was hustle and bustle there, except for one still figure at the end of the quay near the steps, a man dressed in gray. Anne caught her breath. Giles. Even at this distance she recognized him. Giles, watching her. Oh, if only she had wings to fly to him, to tell him she didn’t want to leave, if he would only take her back—

  The figure on shore raised his hand in salute, and then turned, striding away. Anne’s shoulders slumped. He was gone, and with him went every chance of happiness. It was what she had wanted, what she had asked for. Her self-respect was intact. Her precious, bloody, lonely self-respect.

  Anne raised her head. She’d made her choice. Once again she was leaving, rather than face a fight she couldn’t win. The time for looking back was past. She would look forward to the future, no matter how bleak it seemed, and bare. It was all she had.

  Giles strode into the private parlor he had taken at the inn, slapping his gloves down on the table and striding across to the window. “They’re gone,” he said.

  Beth, sitting over her embroidery, looked up. “The ship has sailed?”

  “No. But the tide was about to turn. By now, they’re gone.” Beth murmured something, and he turned to look at her. “What was that you said?”

  Beth secured her needle in her work before answering. “I said, ‘tis a pity.”

  “I don’t need pity, Beth. Yours or anyone else’s.”

  “Oh, I don’t pity you. Men who behave stupidly are hardly deserving of pity.”

  Giles stared at her. “What did you say?”

  “You let her go, Giles. I find that remarkably stupid.”

  “She wanted to go.”

  “You should have made her want to stay.”

  “How?” he shouted. “She didn’t want to. My God, I told her we’d marry, I told her she’d be my duchess, and all she could do was prate on about respect and independence. My God, what does she expect from a man?”

  “You told her that?” Beth stared at him, her embroidery bunched in her lap. “Oh, Giles. Even you couldn’t be so stupid!”

  “I am not stupid, damn it! I offered her everything, Beth. Everything I could give her.”

  “Except the one thing she really wants.”

  “What is that?”

  “She told you. Respect.”

  “Respect. Damn it, what does that mean?”

  Beth rose and crossed to him, laying her hand on his arm. “Oh, Giles. Don’t you know Anne by now? Order her to do something, and she’ll do the exact opposite. But talk to her reasonably, and she’ll do anything, if she thinks it’s right. You can’t browbeat Anne into things, Giles.”

  “I didn’t browbeat her.” He paused. “At least, I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, I’m sure you didn’t. You do have a tendency to tell people what they should do. I know it’s your duty. But Anne needs more from you than duty. She needs love.” Beth shook her head. “Frederick must have been very cruel to her.”

  Giles stared at her and closed his mouth with a snap. How did she know that about Anne? Even he hadn’t known it, until she had told him. “She seemed to trust me,” he said, more to himself than to her, crossing the room and sitting down. “Everything was fine, and then—damn it, then I did start telling her what to do.” He raised dazed eyes to her. “I didn’t mean to. Surely she knows it’s just my way.”

  “But you changed this summer, Giles. Do you really want to go back to the way you were?”

  Giles paused in the middle of answering. Had he changed? Anne seemed to think so, and yet in the middle of the most important moment of his life he had reverted to his old behavior. He had to admit it. In his pride and happiness he had become, not a man in love with a woman, but a duke, arrogant and self-important. It must have sounded to Anne as if it didn’t matter to him whether she were his bride, or someone else. This, to a woman who had seen her husband go off with other women. This, to Anne, who had learned, painfully, that she had to control her own destiny, because she could not rely on anyone else. No wonder she had left him.

  “My God,” he said. “My God, I’ve been every kind of a fool.”

  “It’s not too late, Giles.”

  “Yes it is, damn it. She’s gone.”

  “Then go after her. Giles.” She leaned forward. “You have a choice. I didn’t. I had to let Thomas go. Don’t let Anne go.”

  “She’s on a ship! You how I am about boats. It’s folly—”

  “Sometimes ‘tis folly to be wise! If you don’t go after her, Giles, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  “Damn it.” Giles stared at her. “Damn it, you’re right,” he said, and ran from the room.

  The tide had turned. Serene and majestic, the great ship sailed out of the harbor, past schooners and frigates and men of war, straining at their anchors, equally anxious to be gone. Above canvas was being spread from every yardarm; below, the ship’s wake bubbled in a white froth. They were under way.

  Anne stood on the quarterdeck, her hand on her son’s shoulder, resolutely facing forward. England was, again, part of her past. She had a plantation to run and her son to raise. Eventually she would find contentment again. Happiness? No, that she couldn’t imagine. But contentment, yes.

  “Ahoy, the ship!” a man’s voice called, strong and determined, audible even over the creaking of the timbers. It sounded like—good heavens, it sounded like Giles!

  Anne ran to the r
ail, Jamie a scant step ahead of her. “Mommy! It’s Uncle Giles!” he said, jumping up and down in such excitement that she put her hands on his shoulders, for fear he’d go overboard. “Look, in that little boat.”

  “My heavens.” The words flew involuntarily from Anne’s lips. There, bobbing in their wake, was a small boat, occupied by one man. Though their ship was large and fast, by necessity she was proceeding slowly in such a crowded harbor. A small boat could maneuver better among the other ships, which explained why it was able to catch up with them. What was astonishing was the identity of the man in the boat. The sun, coming out from behind a cloud, glinted off his golden hair and touched upon muscles that rippled as he rowed toward them. Giles. What in the world? “Giles?”

  He turned in the boat. “Ahoy, Anne,” he yelled, half-rising, and sat abruptly as the boat rocked. Anne gasped; even from here she could see that his face had turned green.

  “Oh, what is he doing, when he hates boats—we must stop!” Wheeling away, she fled across to the deckhouse, where the captain was conferring with the pilot. “Captain! Please, we have to stop.”

  The captain looked up from his chart. “Are ye daft, ma’am? We can’t stop now.”

  “We have to. There’s someone who wants to come aboard.”

  “Now, ma’am.” The captain exchanged a look with the pilot and came forward, taking her arm and speaking in what were evidently meant to be soothing tones. “No one can come aboard. We’re under way now, see? Now, I know leaving is powerful hard on ladies, so if ye’ll just go below to your cabin—”

  “Captain, the Duke of Tremont wishes to come aboard.”

  “Madam, I wouldn’t stop now if it was the King himself.”

  “Ahoy!” The voice floated up to them, and the captain blinked. “Ahoy the ship! Annie?”

  “Cap’n!” A sailor ran up, looking amazed. “Someone’s trying to board us from a boat. What should we do?”

  “By Neptune, no one comes aboard my ship without permission,” the captain growled, and strode to the railing. “Get ye away—yer Grace!”

  Anne leaned over the railing. “Oh, Giles. What do you think you are doing?” she called.

  Giles shipped the oars as he came alongside. Though he hadn’t been in a boat for years, clearly he hadn’t forgotten how to row. “Good morning, captain,” he said, making a smart salute. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”

  “Per—toss down the ladder!” the captain bawled, and stepped back as two of his crew went to work. “By Neptune, I’ve never seen anything like it. The man must be daft.”

  Mirth was rising in Anne, like the bubbles of their wake. “Oh, I hope so,” she said, earning herself a look from the captain. “I do hope so.”

  “Uncle Giles!” Jamie, dancing with excitement, threw himself at Giles as he climbed over the side of the ship. Giles tottered a bit, his arms going out automatically around the boy, his eyes searching out Anne. Clad only in pantaloons and a shirt, he looked very masculine, very compelling, and more than a little seasick. “Are you coming with us?”

  Giles ruffled Jamie’s hair. “If your mother lets me.”

  “Mommy! Uncle Giles is coming with us!”

  Anne sat abruptly on a hatch cover. “You can’t—you can’t be serious, Giles.”

  “Why can’t I?” Giles stumbled as he crossed the moving deck toward her, and then recovered. “Good morning, Captain.”

  “Because you hate the sea. Where in the world did you get a boat?”

  “I bought it.”

  “Bought it!”

  Giles caught her hands and pulled her to her feet. “It was the only way I could get to you. Annie, don’t go.” His eyes searched hers. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Oh, Giles—”

  “I’ll do anything you want. We’ll live in Jamaica, we’ll never go back to London, anything you want, Anne. If you’ll only stay with me.”

  “By Neptune,” the captain muttered. By now most of the crew, well-disciplined though they were, had left their posts and were staring at the couple on deck, who seemed to have eyes only for each other.

  Anne searched his face. “Is it me you want, Giles? Truly? Because I’m not certain I’d made a very good duchess.”

  “I don’t want a duchess. I want a wife,” he said, and, hauling her into his arms, kissed her soundly. The crew sent up a ragged cheer, making the captain turn to shout at them, giving orders to heave to. Within a few moments most were back at their posts, and the ship was losing speed.

  Anne pushed ineffectually at Giles’s chest. “Giles, you are making a spectacle of yourself!”

  “I don’t care. Marry me, Annie. Please?” His eyes bored into hers, intent and pleading. “I love you. I need you. I don’t like what I become without you. You see, I’m not telling you what to do. I’m asking you.”

  “Oh, Giles.” Anne laid her hand on his cheek. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

  Giles’s face lit up, and he swung her around, making the crew cheer again. “You won’t regret it, Annie,” he said into her hair. “I swear to you, you won’t regret it.”

  Anne clung tightly to his neck. “I know I won’t. But, oh, Giles!” She pulled away. “You’ve no clothes, and you’d hate an ocean voyage—”

  “Of course we’ll go on. The captain can marry us, and we’ll have our honeymoon in Jamaica.” He caught her eye. “That is, if you want to.”

  “No, I do not want to, Giles Templeton,” she scolded, but she was smiling. “I’ll not be cheated out of a fine wedding again. We’ll return to Tremont and marry with all due pomp and ceremony. After all, you are a duke.”

  Giles grinned. “So I am. And,” he said in a low voice, leaning forward, “I am also a man who loves you very much.”

  “Mommy?” Jamie tugged at Anne’s skirt just as she gave herself to Giles’s embrace again. “Mommy, are we staying with Uncle Giles?”

  Anne looked up from Giles’s kiss, just a little dazed. “Yes. But he won’t be your Uncle Giles anymore.”

  “But I want him to be.”

  Giles crouched down. “What if I’m your father, lad? Would that do?”

  Jamie appeared to consider that. “Yes, sir. It’ll do.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” He exchanged a grin with Anne as he rose. “Do you approve, Obadiah?”

  Obadiah’s face was split in a grin. “Yes, mon. It’s about time.”

  “Oh, Diah!” Anne ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I shall miss you so.”

  “Yes, lady, and I you. But you’re where you belong.” He pulled back and looked past her to Giles. “Your fair knight has come to rescue you.”

  She looked up at him and smiled, mistily; that was more true than she would have thought when Obadiah had made his prediction. “Take care of Hampshire Hall for Jamie.”

  “Yes, lady. And you, mon,” he said as Giles came up to them, “you got a fine lady here. You take care of her.”

  “I plan to.” Giles shook Obadiah’s hand, and then turned to the captain. “We’ll need to have Mrs. Templeton’s trunks brought up, sir. My apologies if this is an inconvenience to you. You may keep the passage money, of course.”

  “By Neptune, I should think so,” the captain muttered, and turned away, to give the necessary orders. “Folly, by Neptune. Pure folly.”

  Giles grinned at Anne and caught her up in his arms, swinging her around. “Giles!” she protested, laughing. The light was back in his eyes again. She intended to see that it stayed there forever. “Put me down!”

  “Is it folly, Anne?” he demanded. “Is it?”

  “No, Giles.” Smiling, she looped her arms around his neck as he set her down. Folly? No, not when his arms felt so right about her, when she felt so complete. What had once seemed only to be folly had become love. And that, Anne thought, as Giles’s lips descended on hers, was very wise indeed.

  Books by Mary Kingsley

  Sabrina

  An Unsuitable Wife

  (originally published
as A Gentleman’s Desire)

  The Rake’s Reward

  A Summer Folly

  An Intriguing Affair

  Scandal’s Lady

  In a Pirate’s Arms

  Masquerade

  Beyond the Sea

  An Angel’s Wish

  Marrying Miss Bumblebroth

  The Reluctant Hero

  Gifts of the Heart

  The Crystal Heart

  Books by Mary Kruger

  The Gilded Age Mystery Series

  Death on the Cliff Walk

  No Honeymoon for Death

  Masterpiece of Murder

  The Knitting Mysteries

  Died in the Wool

  Knit Fast, Die Young