Simply Anna

by Jennifer Moore

  She glanced at the shrub’s white flowers as they passed.

  Philip wasn’t sure exactly how to broach the uncomfortable subject of what had transpired that evening. Best just to jump in with both feet. He laid his hand over hers. “I wanted to make sure you were not distressed after the . . . events with the Stapletons.”

  Anna frowned and glanced at him. “By ‘events,’ are you referring to the insults to me, my clothing, your management of the plantation, and your choice of servants? Or perhaps the completely uncalled-for violence against a child I care for?” She pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms in front of her. Her strolling turned into a quick march, and Philip had to hurry to keep up. “I do not remember a time when I have felt more distressed—although I have only the past weeks to use as reference.” The lantern light flickered over her face, which remained unnaturally devoid of emotion.

  Philip almost wished she would scream, or cry, or something. “I don’t suppose an apology would make a difference?”

  “Are you apologizing to me?” Anna stopped walking. She took a step backward and turned to face him, her nostrils flared. “My lord, you are not the one who should be sorry, unless it is for living on a plantation near those horrid people. And it is Ezekiel who deserves an apology from that”—she clenched her teeth together—“that woman.”

  “I should not have allowed—” Philip began.

  Anna held up her hand. “You did not allow anything. I will not permit you to shoulder the blame.”

  “Nevertheless, it is my home and my responsibility.” Philip could see her anger simmering in her eyes. “I am glad you were there to protect Ezekiel.” He took her hand again, slipping it back into the crook of his elbow, and they continued walking.

  Anna pursed her lips and remained silent. Her hand was tight on his arm.

  He glanced at her, unable to read her expression. “I did hope to remain in the good graces of one dinner guest,” he said. “Will you be all right, then?”

  “If Ezekiel is kept completely away from Clarissa Stapleton forever, I shall be,” Anna said.

  After Anna had endured an entire evening of insults, Philip could not believe that she thought only of the harm done to Ezekiel. He patted her hand on his arm. “It is not much farther,” he told her for lack of something better to say. The lantern’s flame cast strange shadows around them, and he was glad that in his pocket was a small blunderbuss pistol he’d purchased the day before in Port Antonio.

  Anna shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked. “We should have brought a wrap.” She was still wearing her light evening gown. Her hair was down over her shoulders, and with her flashing eyes and heightened color, he thought she could not have looked more fetching if she tried.

  “I am not cold, my lord. Just remembering.”

  “That is something I do not hear from you often.” He smiled and bumped her with his shoulder to show that he was teasing.

  “It is not from my mysterious and potentially nefarious past. It is from yesterday.”

  Philip couldn’t believe she could make a joke about Clarissa’s boorish insults. He would add it to the list of things he appreciated about Anna and hope that it indicated her mood was lifting. “Malachi?”

  “No, something much more ridiculous.” She glanced up at him and turned her face away. “Have you seen an iguana lizard?” she whispered.

  Philip could not help the laugh that erupted from him. After the strain and horrible circumstances of the past few days, he’d forgotten that he had an innocent young woman in his care. He tried to conceal his mirth, holding in his laughter until his stomach hurt, and he ended up making a snorting noise through his nose. He turned toward her. “I am sorry, Anna. I just—” He snorted again.

  “I know it is silly.”

  “It is not silly.” He cleared his throat to ensure that another snort would not creep out. “The first time I saw one of those demons staring at me with its beady little eyes, I seriously contemplated running back to the boat in Kingston.”

  “They look like dragons.”

  He nodded. “But they are completely harmless. They only eat fruit and plants.” He didn’t mention that they would see hundreds of the large reptiles the next day in the mountains.

  “I am still afraid of them,” Anna said in a small voice and moved closer to him.

  Philip wondered what it was about being outside in the dark of night that made people express their true feelings so freely. He looked at Anna’s face, her eyes darting around at the darkness beyond the lantern light. The knowledge that she was afraid and trusted him to keep her safe caused a swell in his chest. The way she clung to his arm made him feel as if there was nothing in the world more important than her protection. Was there another man somewhere who felt the same? Did she already have a protector?

  When they arrived at the small hospital building, Philip opened the door, and they stepped inside, following the sound of voices into the back room.

  Dr. Bevan stood at a worktable, wiping off instruments with a cloth. Betty sat on a chair between two hospital cots—Malachi in one, his eyes open and watching them, and Ezekiel in the other.

  The boy looked to be sleeping, but when the pair entered, he opened his eyes. “Miss Anna. My lord.” He shifted his shoulders as if he would sit up.

  “Rest easy,” Dr. Bevan said to Ezekiel.

  He crossed the room looking curious. “What brings you to the hospital at this late hour?” he asked. “Miss Anna, are you well?”

  “Yes. We came to inquire after Ezekiel,” Anna said.

  Dr. Bevan looked to Philip, and when he saw his nod, pulled his head back quickly, his eyes widening. He was obviously unused to the master checking on the welfare of an injured slave.

  Ezekiel moved again as if to rise.

  Betty put her hand on his shoulder, and the boy lay back. Philip could see that his wound had been stitched.

  Anna stepped closer, sitting on the edge of Ezekiel’s bed. She took his hand and leaned to the side to get a better look at his injury. “How are you feeling, Ezekiel?” Anna touched a finger to his cheek. Her voice was so soft and the scene so tender that Philip didn’t notice for a moment that Dr. Bevan had spoken to him.

  The doctor cleared his throat.

  “Pardon me. What did you say?” Philip was irritated the doctor was distracting him. He almost wished he could trade places with the boy.

  “I said that Malachi is awake, my lord. If you still wished to speak with him . . .”

  Philip turned toward the large man, noticing how he filled the small cot in each direction. Even bandaged and with eyes unfocused due to the laudanum, Malachi still looked formidable. He wore no shirt, and uneven, raised scars ran in stripes over his shoulder and chest. Philip imagined his back was covered as well. The sight sickened him when he thought of the lashings that had caused it.

  Philip walked to the other end of the room and returned with a wooden chair. He did not want to speak to Malachi while looming over him like a minister at a pulpit. He sat, leaning forward and hanging his hands between his knees. “How is your injury?”

  “Bettah, my lord.”

  “Is that the truth? I imagine it hurts like the devil himself stuck it with a hot poker.”

  Anna gasped.

  “Pardon me, Miss Anna, Betty.” Philip grimaced. Betty leveled a look at him, but he saw her lips lifted the slightest bit.

  Anna raised a brow. He felt duly chastened. He would need to remember to keep his language in check with a young lady present.

  “It hurts, sah,” Malachi said.

  Philip turned his attention back to Malachi. “From the look of it, you fought bravely, and I must thank you. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your gang. If I had known . . .” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No blasted sugar is worth such a sacrifice.”

  He darted a glance to Anna, but she did not react to his profanity again. Her face was softened into a gentle smile, and her eyes shined as she rega
rded him. He wished his own eyes didn’t sting. The last thing he needed was to weep in front of his servants and Anna.

  Betty touched Malachi’s arm, and he glanced toward her. They shared a look that made Philip curious as to the nature of their relationship. But it was none of his affair. He cleared his throat. “If you feel up to it, can you tell me what happened?”

  Malachi nodded. “We drive de carts, sah, when men jump from de trees wit’ guns and knives. Even when we don’ fight anymo’, dey just want to kill all de people.”

  “And you said you recognized their leader?” Philip wanted to be completely certain that they had not accused the wrong man.

  “He de ol’ busha. Massa Braithwaite.” Malachi’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at Betty again and then back to Philip. “He shoot me wit’ his gun. I crawl into de weeds to hide. When dey take de carts away, all de people dead. I walk back to Oakely Park, but I’s losin’ blood, sah, and can walk no mo’.”

  Philip nodded, rubbing his palm over his cheek and chin. The man’s story was consistent with what they’d found at the site where the shipment had been attacked.

  Malachi turned his head to the side on his pillow. He reached his hand toward Anna. “Miss, you save my life. I t’ank you.”

  Anna’s cheeks turned pink. “I hardly did anything. But you are quite welcome, Malachi.” She laid Ezekiel’s hand on the cot and stood. “I think Ezekiel should sleep.” Her gaze moved to Malachi, and she took a slow step toward him. She reached her hand toward his and hesitated briefly before she clasped it. “I am glad you are healing,” she said and then hurried from the room.

  Philip smiled. Anna tried to put on a brave face, but Malachi still frightened her. Philip stood.

  Ezekiel opened his eyes and moved to sit up. Betty placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

  “Ezekiel, I insist you remain here until Dr. Bevan and Betty think you are well enough to resume your duties,” Philip said.

  “But, my lord,” the boy said in a voice devoid of its typical cheer, “I need to blacken yo’ boots, and I’ve no’ laid out yo’ nightclothes.”

  “I shall have to fend for myself for a day or two. It will be difficult indeed as I am used to such fine care, but I insist that my valet should be in the best of health.”

  Ezekiel closed his eyes. “Tomorrow, my lord.”

  “I will not hear of it,” Philip said. He let a sigh, much louder than the situation called for, but he wanted to make sure the boy heard. “Although I shall certainly miss having a well-tied cravat.”

  Ezekiel did not open his eyes, but he smiled, and blast if it didn’t tug at Philip’s heart. He nodded to Betty and Malachi, excusing himself to join Anna.

  “My lord,” Malachi said in a low voice. His dark eyes locked on Philip, and he was once again reminded how terrified he would be of this man if they were enemies. “You look after my family.” He motioned toward Betty and Ezekiel with his finger. Then his eyes darted toward the door to the outer room. “She saved my life. I do no’ forget. I will protect yo’ family.”

  Philip thought for an instant about setting the record straight, explaining that Anna wasn’t his family—she was simply a houseguest—but Malachi closed his eyes and nodded his head once. Philip knew the conversation was over.

  He joined Anna in the other room, lifting the lantern and opening the outer door.

  She walked through the doorway and glanced up at him, blinking once. “I am sorry for leaving so quickly,” she said. Her voice was nearly a whisper. “He still frightens me.”

  “You have no need to fear him,” Philip said. “Malachi will never hurt you. Or allow any harm to come to you.”

  Anna looked up at him, and her finger touched her necklace. She glanced back at the hospital. “We are safe at Oakely Park, aren’t we?”

  “I hope so, Anna.”

  She slipped her hand into his as they walked back to the Great House.

  He studied her profile for a moment. Anna had pronounced cheekbones, and her lips were plump, the top one every bit as thick as the bottom. The effect fascinated him and heated his blood. An attractive and contradicting blend of woman and girl. As he watched her, he suddenly remembered her pensive expression at dinner. “Anna, tonight you remembered something. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to tell me?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Philip’s stomach grew heavy. What had she remembered? Someone mistreating her? The death of a person she cared about? Something frightening? His mind turned over the possibilities. “Is it so terrible?” The thought of someone hurting her churned his stomach.

  “It is not terrible, just incomplete. A snippet. I do not understand it.”

  He rubbed his thumbnail on the lantern rope. Curiosity burned inside him and made him impatient to hear her problem so he could solve it. “Perhaps I could help?”

  Anna glanced at him and then away. “I remember a man.”

  Philip felt as if someone had hit him in the gut. He had thought hearing about something dreadful from Anna’s past would be difficult, but this was infinitely worse. He forced himself to continue listening to her explanation, even as he fought to breathe evenly.

  “I do not know who he is. He is young and handsome. In my memory, he hands me a book and smiles. That is all.”

  Philip fought to keep his emotions from showing on his face. He should be happy that Anna remembered someone pleasant from her life, but he hated it. He hated every bit of it, and even more, it hurt his heart.

  He’d done it again, let his defenses down. Watching Anna hold his injured servant in her arms, seeing her in the silk gown, hearing the fear in her voice when she talked about the iguana lizard. Each was a small-weapons battery against his defenses, and they’d broken through, blasting his wall to bits. He tried to push out the sting, but it was too painful.

  The day he’d learned about his brother and Jacqueline, something had begun to smolder inside him—an ember that had been fanned over the past few days by Horace Braithwaite, Tom Norton, John Stapleton, and now this mysterious man who Philip was completely aware could be no more important to Anna than a merchant at the bookstore. But the flame blazed nonetheless, and his hurt only added to it, turning it to anger.

  “I should tell you that I plan to marry Clarissa Stapleton,” he blurted, watching her reaction, angry at himself for the hope that he would see pain in her expression. He was not disappointed and was disgusted with himself for causing it.

  Anna stopped midstride and stumbled when he kept moving and tugged her forward. Even in the lantern light, he saw her face pale. “My lord, I don’t understand. You . . . Why would you do that?”

  “She is extremely wealthy,” he said.

  Anna pulled away. She pressed a hand against her stomach as she turned toward the house.

  A wave of guilt washed over him. Why had he tried to hurt her? None of this was her fault. The only thing she’d done was arrive by accident in need of help. She just happened to be beautiful and charming with a gentle humor and compassionate nature. And he’d punished her for it? Philip was furious with himself and suddenly extremely tired.

  He quickened his pace to match hers. “Anna, come inside. I need to tell you a story.”

  ***

  He led her to the small parlor—Philip did not want to take her into the drawing room while there was still blood on the floor. Anna didn’t say anything. Her eyes didn’t meet his. He would have given seventy hogshead of sugar to know what was going on inside her mind. He lit the candles and sat on the settee next to her. Then he took a deep breath, knowing there was no way to lead into the story but to start. “About nine months ago, I fancied myself in love.”

  “Oh,” Anna said, her face reddening. She did not look at him.

  “I was introduced to Jacqueline at a dinner party. She was the most sought-after debutante in London, and I was thoroughly smitten by her charms. Within a few weeks, it was obvious she preferred me to all her
other suitors.” He smiled wryly at the memory. “You can imagine how I thought myself the luckiest man in London and swaggered into White’s with my chest puffed out.”

  Anna did not raise her eyes.

  “We had plans to marry in the spring. I purchased a special license, and our families’ attorneys set to drawing up the marriage agreements. I may have been the happiest of men but also the most oblivious. While I strutted about in a haze of bliss, Jacqueline set her allures to work on my elder brother—the future marquess—and he did not have any qualms about returning her affection.”

  Anna looked up then and placed her hand on his. “Lord Philip, you do not have to tell me any more.”

  He turned his palm up, cradling her hand. “It was more horrible than merely the two of them stealing kisses behind my back. All of London knew of it. I became a joke among my friends—a man who was so blinded by love that he could not see what was happening around him.” He did not tell her about the caricature in the Times. Anna may have seen it herself. “When the two of them eventually confessed, I felt as though I had been struck.”

  He closed his eyes, remembering the awful day. “I told her I loved her. Begged her to return to me. I would do anything she wished.” The dizzying feeling of humiliation had lessened slightly over the months, but his insides still clenched as he relived it. “Jacqueline batted her eyes and looked absolutely confused at my reaction. She said she had enjoyed our games and flirtations but I should have known that our relationship was never more than a playful friendship.”

  He glanced down at Anna’s hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, thinking how this woman’s steadiness gave him strength. “Even when she was jilting me, she managed to make me feel as though I was the one at fault.”

  “My lord, I am so sorry that you—that she hurt you so.” Anna closed her fingers around his hand tightly.

  Philip looked up to see Anna’s brows drawn together and the deepest sympathy in her eyes. He knew he must finish the story, as it was the last time he ever intended to tell it. “I left London a few weeks later and vowed that I would not allow myself to be duped again. I would thrust myself into the management of the plantation and marry the wealthiest woman I met. My father will be proud, I will be rich, and my heart will be safe.”