The Duke's Hidden Desire (Scandals of Scarcliffe Hall Book 2) Read online

  "How are you feeling, Your Grace?" she asked in an exaggerated whisper, her curtsey somewhat marred by the large bag of sewing she held.

  "Perfectly well, thank you," he answered automatically. Fortunately, Mrs Pierce was not the sort of person to ask searching questions of anyone, let alone a duke, and she smiled and nodded and quickly settled herself down in the corner for another extended nap.

  Anna came in with a tray of tea and sandwiches. Beaumont eyed them warily.

  "Do you think you can eat, Your Grace?" she asked, setting the tray down beside him. "Papa thinks you ought to try."

  "Well, if the doctor advises it," said Beaumont, as agreeably as he could. To his horror, Anna took up a sandwich and held it towards his mouth. "Miss Hawkins, if you please, I am not as unwell as all that!"

  "There's no need to be embarrassed," she said, unperturbed. "I am perfectly accustomed to nursing."

  "I will feed myself, Miss Hawkins. I positively insist."

  "As you wish," she said. She positioned the tray on his lap and went to fetch a torn shirt from Mrs Pierce’s mending pile, busying herself with sewing while Beaumont discovered that, in his state of dizziness, eating was not the carefree task it had formerly been.

  He glanced across at Anna a few times to see if she was enjoying his struggle, but each time she gave the impression of complete absorption in her work.

  The restorative effects of the tea and sandwiches were considerable. By the time he had finished, Beaumont felt at least halfway human.

  "I will leave you to rest," said Anna, taking up the tray.

  "No," he protested, more strongly than he meant to. Anna hesitated, tray in hand, looking unsure whether she ought to ignore his request and go.

  "I feel much better," said Beaumont. "And, if it's not too much of an imposition, I will be frightfully bored lying here in the dark all day."

  "Papa said that you were to do absolutely nothing but rest," said Anna.

  "Do you think you might read to me, then?" It was more than the prospect of a wasted day in the dark. It was the idea of Anna being gone from his sight, even for a moment. Beaumont supposed he must have hit his head quite hard. He was experiencing a degree of emotion to which he was not accustomed, and concealing it was a struggle.

  Anna remained hesitant. "We do not have many entertaining books in the house. There are my father's medical textbooks..."

  Beaumont thought of the book of poetry in his pocket. He wondered whether Anna might be tempted by the poets’ words of love, if not his own. "Tell me what you like to read."

  Anna frowned, a little crease appearing between her eyebrows. Beaumont was suddenly very taken by the idea of pressing his lips to that wrinkle of confusion every time his behaviour put her on her guard.

  "I read the medical textbooks, Your Grace. And I enjoy works of history and philosophy, which my father borrows from Lord Lilistone’s library."

  Beaumont was not a great reader, but he much preferred entertaining novels to the great philosophers. "They sound very improving, Miss Hawkins."

  "That is rather the point," said Anna stiffly.

  "I did not mean to tease. What beneficial reading would you prescribe me? I may as well improve my mind while my body recovers."

  The alacrity of Anna's answer suggested that she had already given the matter some thought. "The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. I believe we have a copy. I shall fetch it, if you care to listen?"

  "If you think it will be good for me, Miss Hawkins, what can I do but try?"

  Beaumont had, of course, studied Latin in his schoolboy days at Eton. He vaguely recalled the Meditations as being a set of maxims about the worthiness of an industrious life. Early to bed and early to rise, that sort of thing. All written thousands of years ago by an emperor of Rome.

  No surprise that the worthy and industrious Anna Hawkins would choose it for a wayward duke.

  Anna returned with a reassuringly slim volume and, to his surprise, a candle.

  "Is it already evening?" asked Beaumont.

  "Not nearly. But I am afraid the daylight will hurt your eyes, and I cannot read in this dimness." She lit the candle, sending a spasm of pain through Beaumont's head as the light flared. He closed his eyes until the flame steadied.

  "Is it too much?" Anna asked softly. Beaumont opened his eyes again to find every feature of her fine-boned face softened by candlelight. Her red hair glimmered copper and gold.

  He hesitated for so long simply watching her that Anna almost blew out the candle.

  "No," he said quickly. "It's perfect. Please. Read to me."

  She made herself comfortable on the chair beside his bed, her cheek resting on her hand, and began to read.

  "From my grandfather Verus I learnt good morals and the government of my temper..."

  14

  "But I don't understand!" wailed Mrs Pierce, waving her rolling pin in agitation. Anna ducked to avoid it, caught her gently by the elbow, and steered her back towards the stove. "I can't serve such a simple meal to a duke!"

  "The duke will surely not expect your cooking to match his French chef in Beaumont Castle," said Anna firmly. "Besides, he will enjoy the food. It's his favourite meal."

  "Dukes have no business eating mutton and potatoes," muttered Mrs Pierce. "Souffles, yes. Great jellied puddings, yes. Water ice! Syllabubs! But not mutton and potatoes, Miss Hawkins, I beg you!"

  "Nevertheless," said Anna. "I have decided the menu for this evening, and it is mutton and potatoes, Mrs Pierce. Mr Jones will be helping you serve – though it's not really his job."

  "Nor mine," Mrs Pierce grumbled truculently. "I’m not made to serve dukes and princes, not me!"

  Anna kissed her cheek impulsively. "And I would not have you any other way. Dear Mrs Pierce, let me know the moment you need any help!"

  "Help! With mutton and potatoes! The very thought!"

  Anna left the housekeeper to her muttering. Privately, she thought it was a very good thing that Beaumont did not have extravagant tastes. If Mrs Pierce attempted a souffle with her nerves in their current state, the results might be tragic.

  Anna had to admit that she was not immune to Beaumont's presence, either. Before now, she had always been proud of her house and of the way she kept it. Her mother had died when Anna was barely old enough to remember her, so all she knew about housekeeping had been self-taught under the guidance of the women of the village and Mrs Pierce. She flattered herself that she did a good job. One which would have made her mother proud. Her father had certainly never had cause to complain.

  But it was one thing to keep the household ticking along for a busy country doctor, and quite another thing to entertain a duke...

  Anna fingered the edge of the curtains in the dining room. Was it her imagination, or was the fabric a little frayed? Was the room not a little dark, despite the glow emanating from every candle holder they had? Was the furniture not a little worn, and the upholstery a trifle old-fashioned?

  Did dukes even care for fashion? Didn't they inherit everything they owned? Or did they furnish their houses from scratch once a season to keep up appearances?

  Anna pressed a hand to her forehead and willed herself calm. It was not an unknown scion of the nobility who would dine with them tonight, after all. It was the Duke of Beaumont, who had now spent several bed-bound days being charming, gracious, and unexpectedly polite. If he noticed anything amiss, he would surely rather die than mention it.

  Which almost made it worse, of course. She would never know whether she had disappointed him.

  "Is everything ready?" asked her father. She had been so lost in her own worries that she had not even heard him approach. Sensing her nerves, he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "There is no need to attach any great ceremony to the evening, my dear. In fact, it would be better if we gave him an ordinary family meal. I do not imagine he will be expecting much, so he will be pleasantly surprised."

  "Is he really well enough to sit up with us?" Anna felt gu
ilty for hoping the answer was no. She wanted Beaumont to be well, of course. But if only he could get well all in one leap, and not have to be a guest in their little house!

  There was another cause for regret, too. She only allowed her thoughts to brush the edge of it before she pulled them away and focused on more sensible things.

  If Beaumont was better, that would be the end of their quiet afternoons of reading and conversation. The end of his murmured dry wit. The end of the way he looked at her in candlelight.

  She would never again watch him sink back onto the pillows, eyes half-closed, and let her gaze secretly trace the contours of his cheekbones.

  Considering that her wedding was fast approaching, that was only for the good.

  "He ought to manage it," said Dr Hawkins. "He has made a rapid recovery. A credit to your nursing." This last was spoken with a faintly ironic lilt that made Anna blush. The growing friendship between herself and the duke had not escaped her father.

  Mr Floyd rushed into the dining room, saving Anna from thinking of a response. "The Duke of Loxwell's carriage is outside," he said. "I thought you would want to know at once."

  "As if one duke were not enough!" said Anna faintly. She wondered what on earth had happened to her life. Why was she, of all people, suddenly inundated with noble company?

  "I will go and greet him," said Dr Hawkins. "He will want to know how our patient is getting on."

  The doctor returned a few moments later to summon Anna. "It is not the duke, but Lady Cecily," he said. "She wanted a few words with you."

  Anna took off her apron and went out into the drizzly evening. At the tail end of a very fine summer, the weather was becoming more English by the day.

  Cecily opened the carriage door and beckoned her inside the moment she appeared. "I'm so sorry to drag you out in the rain!" she said. "You should have stopped to put on a coat!"

  "Nonsense," Anna laughed, sitting beside her. "It's only a touch of damp." She noticed that Cecily's skirts were wet to the knee. "If your dress can stand it, mine certainly can."

  "Oh, I never care much for bad weather myself," said Cecily dismissively. "As long as I can get out of the house! It will be so nice to be married and be able to go out and about more freely, don't you think?"

  Anna had never particularly thought that her upcoming marriage might bring her freedom. She supposed Cecily was right, in principle. Whether Gilbert agreed was another matter.

  "Have you been out making more wedding preparations?" she asked. Cecily rolled her eyes.

  "I suppose I ought to be in raptures over the flower arrangements, but I confess I would rather get married under an old oak tree! But I didn't ask you out here to prattle on about myself." She glanced at her lady's maid and leaned in to whisper in Anna's ear. "Is it completely unbearable having Beaumont in the house?"

  Anna was startled. "Why would you think that?"

  "I know you do not like him," said Cecily sympathetically.

  "That is... too strong a term," said Anna. "I merely thought his conduct at times was a little, ah, unexpected. That's all. But he has been the perfect gentleman these past few days. Even though he must have been suffering a great deal."

  "I'm so glad to hear it," sighed Cecily. "I was afraid I would find you a nervous wreck! But you are made of stronger stuff than that! All the same, it must be difficult having a strange man in the house. Your father should really have sent you to stay with a relative! When is Beaumont likely to recover?"

  "He is well enough to dine with us tonight," said Anna. She thought briefly of confiding her nerves to Cecily, but dismissed the notion. Cecily had never been troubled by a lack of self-confidence in her life. "Unless he takes a turn for the worse, Papa thinks he will be able to travel tomorrow."

  "And you will be rid of him at last," Cecily smiled. "I'll send a man along to Scarcliffe Hall to have them send a carriage in the morning. The gentlemen have been quite lost without their friend!"

  Anna thought, despite herself, that she could understand the sentiment. She, too, would miss Beaumont when he was gone.

  Mr Floyd appeared with an umbrella to guard Anna against the increasing rain. "If I might interrupt, my lady," he said, bowing to Cecily. "We are about to have dinner."

  Cecily caught Anna's hand before she stepped out of the carriage. "You and Mr Jackson must come to my engagement dinner," she said. "I will ask Lady Lilistone to invite you."

  "That's very kind," said Anna, feeling a little awkward, "but I'm afraid..."

  A gust of wind brought the rain lashing into Mr Floyd's face. The light drizzle had suddenly become a downpour.

  "Please, go inside!" said Cecily. "Don't get wet on my account! Enjoy your dinner! I'll see you soon."

  Mr Floyd took Anna's arm and rushed her into the house as a roll of thunder pealed out and Cecily's carriage rattled away behind them.

  "You might have let me stay a moment longer," Anna cried. "Now Lady Cecily thinks I mean to accept her invitation!"

  "I am sorry," said Mr Floyd, wringing out his hat. "I only thought –"

  "No," said Anna, immediately regretting her outburst. "I am sorry. I spoke harshly. I'm sure I will be able to come up with some excuse in time." A small cough behind her made her turn around to see the Duke of Beaumont waiting for her.

  No-one would have believed that this well-groomed, handsome man had been an invalid only the day before. Only a faint pallor in his cheeks and the bandage around his head betrayed him.

  "Miss Hawkins," he said, smiling so widely that Anna instantly forgot all her concerns. Something about the way he looked at her was so reassuring that she felt certain that anything she did, in his eyes, would be more than good enough.

  The duke extended his arm. "Might I accompany you into dinner?"

  Anna placed her hand lightly on his wrist. "I'd be delighted, Your Grace."

  15

  Beaumont was under no illusions that the delicious meal placed before him had been prepared by accident.

  Everything was perfect. The candlelight, the cosiness of the little dining room, the simple food calculated exactly to please him. What had once seemed a dreary and cramped old house now appeared a wonderfully snug and well-appointed country cottage.

  Anna, he knew, was the orchestrator of it all. He saw her gentle touch in everything from the choice of wine to the flowers on the table. She was queen of her own domain and had done everything conceivable to make her kingdom a pleasant one.

  He never thought he would envy a man who came home to a cottage instead of a castle, but he would have been blind not to notice how comfortable Anna's efforts made her father and his assistant.

  During a brief lull in the conversation, he even found himself wondering whether the same skills would translate to being the mistress of Beaumont Castle.

  Fortunately, Beaumont had been raised never to let conversation die, and he distracted himself quite capably by asking Mr Floyd whether he had grown up in Loxton. Floyd began a complicated explanation of his childhood, his parents’ friendship with Dr Hawkins, moving to Loxton to study under the doctor and his eventual hope to raise funds for studying at Oxford. Beaumont found his eagerness to learn and work pleasantly refreshing. Floyd was a world away from the idle gentlemen of Scarcliffe Hall.

  At the end of the meal, Dr Hawkins brought out a carafe of brandy from the sideboard. Beaumont suspected that this was not their everyday choice of drink, but he would not have dreamed of mentioning it. Anna did not excuse herself to the sitting room. She seemed quite accustomed to joining in the men's talk after dinner. Such behaviour would have appalled a London hostess, but Beaumont found that he was glad of her presence.

  "I want to thank you all for the excellent care you have taken of me these past few days," he said, accepting a glass of brandy. "I am sure I would not have recovered nearly so well without your kindness."

  "It was a pleasure, Your Grace," said Dr Hawkins. While Mr Floyd had been rather nervous throughout the meal, the doctor appeare
d as unperturbed as if Beaumont were a farmer from the village. Beaumont began to understand where Anna had received her ideas of manliness and virtue. The doctor was intellectual, but capable of attending to the ignorant without condescension. He rose early and worked late, but did not judge anyone for idleness. His life was tirelessly dedicated to the service of others. Anna's disdain for Beaumont's preferred activities became infinitely more comprehensible.

  "Are you looking forward to your return to Scarcliffe Hall?" asked Anna. Beaumont searched her eyes for a hidden meaning to the question. Could it be that she wanted him to stay? But she remained impassive.

  "I hear the shooting this year is excellent," said Dr Hawkins, when Beaumont failed to respond.

  "Do you shoot?" Beaumont asked, grateful that his hesitation had been smoothed over.

  "On occasion, when I am invited. I find I do not often have the time – nor am I what you would call a marvellous shot."

  "You must find the time before I leave Scarcliffe Hall," said Beaumont. "I'm sure the marquess would be delighted to invite you."

  "Do you often make so free with other men's property?" asked Anna. Mr Floyd inhaled sharply through his nose and spluttered out a mouthful of brandy. Dr Hawkins passed him a napkin, impassive as ever.

  "Only when it is something I truly desire," said Beaumont. He had the satisfaction of watching Anna's eyes flare wide.

  He could not recall a woman ever understanding him as implicitly as Anna did. He would miss it.

  "Did I see Lady Cecily in the carriage outside just before dinner?" he asked, if only to give Mr Floyd a chance to recover.

  "She is sending a note to Scarcliffe Hall to arrange your carriage for tomorrow," said Anna. She glanced at her father. "Papa, I need your advice on something. Lady Cecily has invited me to her engagement dinner." She bit her lip. "Mr Jackson, too."

  "That will be charming," said Beaumont. Anna shook her head.