Summer Folly Page 5

  “Yes, you insufferable prig,” she muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  “When do you leave for Brighton?”

  “Next Wednesday. I’ve some business to see to first.” He stepped toward her. “I suppose you want to go.”

  “No, not particularly.”

  Giles looked at her in surprise. “No?”

  “No. Think, Giles. If we’re seen in company together after what happened seven years ago, what do you suppose people will say?”

  Giles looked taken aback. “Nothing. I am the Duke of Tremont, after all, and you’re my cousin’s widow.”

  “Don’t be naive. You know very well people have long memories. They’ll be glad enough to talk about us.”

  “I never thought you were a coward, Anne.”

  “I’m not. This is a battle that doesn’t seem worth fighting. Still.” Her smile was wistful. “I would like to see the Marine Pavilion.”

  Giles made a gesture with his hand. “It’s hideous, in monumentally bad taste—”

  “Does that mean that all the furnishings are new?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Anne’s smile was sweet. “Nothing.”

  The look Giles gave her was suspicious. “I dislike Brighton. If I didn’t have to go there, I wouldn’t.”

  “You might have fun.”

  “Fun? I doubt it. I will make my appearance as the Prince expects me to, and then come home. And that is all.”

  “How dull. Beth will not be missing so very much, after all.”

  “Beth doesn’t want to go, now that I’ve explained matters to her.”

  “Of course she doesn’t. She worships you. Everything you do, she thinks is fine.”

  “I’m thinking of Beth’s best interests, I’ll have you know. She wouldn’t enjoy Brighton.”

  “But she never had a season.”

  “She seems not to miss it.”

  “Oh, Giles!” Anne’s voice was exasperated. “For heaven’s sake, do you really believe that? She’s young, and yet she has no life of her own.”

  “Of course she does. She seems happy enough.”

  “I don’t believe she knows differently. But if you were to ask her, I think you’d find that she does want more. She deserves to marry and have her own family.”

  Giles frowned. “Did she ask you to speak with me?”

  “No. In fact, she asked me not to. I’m meddling, as usual. And to no effect, I can see.”

  “I want Beth to be happy. I don’t believe that her happiness lies in such a superficial place as Brighton.”

  Anne gazed up at him, startled. He sounded bitter, and she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. After all, she was the one who had been wronged seven years ago. “Beth has the right to choose.”

  “Beth doesn’t know better.” He opened the door. “I’ve made my decision on this, Anne. Pray don’t meddle any further.” With a curt bow, he walked away, and went into his study.

  Well! Anne went up the stairs, as annoyed with him as he must be with her. The direct approach hadn’t worked; she hadn’t expected it would. It was time, then, to try something else. Giles didn’t know it yet, but battle had just been joined between them.

  Tea had been served, and the inhabitants of Tremont Castle were at ease, Giles with one elbow propped on the mantel, Julia and Beth engaged in their embroidery, and Anne, who detested needlework, twisted around to look out the window. She had forgotten how deadly dull life could be in England. In Jamaica she had never been bored, but here there was little for her to do. She wasn’t even expected to spend much time with her son.

  “I am pleased you are going to Brighton, Giles,” Julia pronounced, taking a stitch in her crewel.

  Giles looked up. “Are you, mother?”

  “Yes. It can, after all, only add to your consequence.”

  “And, who knows. I might even have fun.”

  Anne twisted back to look at him. Had she managed to reach him yesterday? But, no, his face was impassive, his eyes were cool. He was the most confusing man.

  “Fun is not why you are going,” Julia said. “Remember your duty, Giles.”

  “I always remember my duty, Mother. In fact, it occurs to me there’s one I’ve overlooked.”

  “What is that?”

  “I should have seen to it that Beth had a season.”

  Beth looked up, her needle poised in midair. “Oh, but I don’t want—”

  “Elizabeth is perfectly happy here with me.” Julia sent her daughter a stern glance. “What need has she of a season?”

  “She may wish to marry, Mother.”

  “If she does, I’ll find someone suitable for her.”

  “Why is it Giles never found anyone suitable?” Anne asked, prompted by some inner demon. “Isn’t marriage one of his duties, too?”

  “That is none of your concern, ma’am. What is all this about, Giles? The season is past.”

  “In London, yes, but everyone is going to Brighton this year. What better place for Beth to make her debut?”

  “Nonsense.” Julia stabbed at the cloth. “I need her here. Besides, she would need to be chaperoned, and if you think I’ll leave that to...” Her voice trailed off, but the look she gave Anne left no doubt as to whom she blamed for this.

  “Of course she would need a chaperone,” Giles said, patiently. “That is why you would come along. Now, hear me out, Mother.” He held up his hand. “We can well afford to take a house in the town for a few weeks, and we should present Beth to society. Even if she doesn’t find a suitor, it will be good for her. And you haven’t left Tremont since Father died.”

  “And think of seeing your son honored by the Prince of Wales,” Anne put in.

  “There is that.” Julia looked thoughtful; apparently she was taking Anne’s jest seriously. “It would be a feather in your cap, wouldn’t it, ma’am?”

  “Mine?” Anne’s eyes were innocent. “I have nothing to do with this.”

  “Oh, really. Am I to believe this was all Giles’s idea?”

  “Of course it was.” Giles sounded irritated. “Anne has already told me she has no desire to go to Brighton.”

  “Oh,” Beth said, and everyone turned to look at her, at the dismay in her voice. “Then we won’t be able to go, either. Unless it’s all right for Anne to stay here unchaperoned.”

  “Of course it is not all right.” Julia glared at Anne. “I wouldn’t leave her alone here in any event.”

  “Don’t you trust me, ma’am?” Anne said.

  Julia glared at her again. “It would be most improper. No, Giles. As much as I would like Beth to have a season, it won’t do. We will not go to Brighton.”

  “Do you know, I think I would like to go,” Anne said. “I really wouldn’t want to stay here alone, and it would be nice for Giles to have someone in his family see him receive his decoration.”

  Giles bowed, slightly. “I agree. Well, Mother?”

  Julia looked from one to the other, and then rose, tossing her embroidery down on the sofa. “You are the head of the family, Giles. If you say we are going, how can I argue? You’ll have your time at Brighton,” she said, looking at Anne, and stomped out of the room.

  “Oh, dear.” Beth rose. “She’s upset. I must go to her.”

  “She’s angry.” Anne sounded amused. “When was the last time she didn’t get her own way?”

  “Oh, Anne, that’s unfair! She wants only what is right for us.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “I believe she does,” Giles said. “It is true, though, she hasn’t left Tremont in years, and perhaps she’s forgotten what life outside is like. This will do her good.” He smiled at Anne. “Thanks to you, though I don’t know how you did it.”

  Anne grimaced. “Hoist with my own petard.”

  “Anne! Do you mean you really don’t want to go to Brighton?” Beth said.

  “Not particularly, no.” She looked up to see Giles watching her, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. “It w
on’t be easy.”

  “No,” he said, slowly, “but it may well be time.”

  Anne didn’t answer right away. “Perhaps it is.”

  “For what?” Beth asked.

  Anne shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Giles.” Beth’s voice was hesitant. “Do I really have to go?”

  “It won’t be so bad, Bethie. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “If you say so.” Beth rose. “I think I’d best go to Mama. She seemed terribly upset.”

  “I think that’s a good idea. Beth.” She turned. “I’m willing to wager you’ll be the hit of Brighton this year.”

  Beth’s face lit up in her rare, sweet smile. “Thank you, Giles,” she said, and went out.

  Giles smiled after her, and then went back to stand at the mantel again, quite as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “You humbug,” Anne said, sounding amused.

  Giles looked up. “I beg your pardon?”

  “All that talk about your duty. It’s all a facade, isn’t it? You asked Beth to go because you want her to be happy.”

  “That is part of my duty, ma’am.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “And if we’re speaking of humbugs, when did you change your mind about Brighton?”

  “Oh, I think it will be great fun,” she said, airily. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll check on Jamie. I promised to see him at tea time.”

  “Anne.” He laid his hand on her arm, and she stopped. “I know why you decided to go, and I’m grateful to you. But if things get too difficult for you in Brighton, we won’t stay.”

  “Thank you, Giles.” The warmth of his hand on her was doing strange things, spreading, expanding, so that she seemed to feel it in her entire body. She didn’t understand it. She cared nothing for him anymore, nothing. Besides, she was well beyond the point of being so affected by a simple touch. It must be his unaccustomed sympathy, and his utter sincerity. For all she teased him about his duty, she could lean on him if she had to, could rely on him. He would be solid and strong, like a rock. If she had to lean on him. She intended never to be so helpless again. “I do think you’re a humbug,” she said, and swished out of the room.

  Behind her Giles smiled again, wondering if she were aware of the sway of her hips when she walked, or if it were a natural, unconscious movement. A humbug, was he? Perhaps. Brighton would not be the escape for him he had planned, and that he was sorry for; somehow, Anne had made him do things he’d never intended, without even seeming to try. It had felt good, though, to see Beth smile as she had, for the first time in what seemed like years. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad as he feared in Brighton. Maybe.

  Chapter Five

  When the Duke of Tremont wanted something done, it was done. An agent in Brighton found a house for them on the Steyne, near the Marine Pavilion, a most fashionable address. The furniture was put in holland covers, trunks were packed, and the family was bundled into carriages. Tremont Castle was left behind; Brighton was ahead.

  Anne looked out the carriage window, her feelings decidedly mixed. Her life had changed so, and would change even more once they reached Brighton. Though she was a widow, with more freedom than she had ever had as a debutante, she well remembered what life in society was like, and how hemmed in by rules one could be. It had never bothered her before, but then, she wasn’t used to being told what to do by an arrogant, overbearing male. She was used to being in control of her life. That was the problem, of course. In returning to England, she had let that control slip away, had put it into someone else’s hands, and she didn’t like it one bit. Never again did she want to be subservient to any man.

  The cavalcade of carriages and horses stopped at a toll house, and she shifted position. Jamie was heavy on her lap, and, after nearly two days on the road, everyone was tired. She was relieved when the carriage started again, cresting a hill and then starting down again. The light had a peculiar lucidity she remembered well, and the air smelled of salt. The sea must be near. From somewhere, a bell began to peal, as if heralding their arrival, and the occupants of the carriages perked up. They had reached Brighton.

  “Look, Mama!” Jamie piped up. “Look at that funny looking man!”

  “Good heavens!” Anne craned her head to see as their carriage passed a gig painted entirely in shades of green. That wasn’t what was so odd about it, however. Driving the phaeton was a man who also was entirely green: green clothing, green shoes, even green hair and whiskers. Even his dog, riding beside him, had not been spared; its fur was also tinged green. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I’ve read of him.” Beth leaned forward, her shyness forgotten in the excitement of the moment. “They call him the Green Man. They say he always dresses only in green and eats only green food.”

  “How odd.” Anne leaned back, one arm around Jamie as he continued to stare out the window. “I begin to think Brighton might be tolerably amusing, after all.”

  “I do not approve of the Prince of Wales’s set, even if he is our sovereign’s son,” Julia declared. “They are, by and large, loose people. I fear, Elizabeth, that we may not find our usual moral standard here. I do hope, however, that you will not allow yourself to be led into bad company.”

  “But, Mama, a green man!” Beth said, forgetting her usual awe of her mother. “Think of what people at home will say.”

  “They’ll be green with envy,” Anne said, and Beth giggled, earning them both censorious looks from the duchess.

  “I, for one, do not intend to countenance loose behavior,” she said.

  “What’s loose behavior, Mama?” Jamie asked, turning.

  “Misbehaving, pet.”

  “Oh.” His eyes were wide and innocent. “Like the time when I was little and ran out after my bath to greet Papa, and he said I was misbehaving because I didn’t have clothes on?”

  “The child is pert,” Julia said, while Anne pressed her lips together to stifle her laughter.

  “Yes, lovey,” she said, her voice strangled, and Jamie, knowing he’d said something of interest, but not exactly sure what it was, looked from one to the other. “Something like that.”

  “I won’t do that again, Mommy. I promise.”

  Anne pulled him close and planted a kiss on his head. “I know you won’t, lovey.”

  “Lovey’s a girl’s word,” he said, squirming away.

  “Hmph.” Julia’s face was cold. For most of the trip, Jamie had travelled in a separate carriage with Nurse, but, at the last posting stop, Anne had decided to bring him in with her. Julia had made her thoughts on traveling with a child quite clear. “I should hope not. The boy is ill-behaved.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, ma’am, he’s only a child.”

  “The very reason why he requires discipline. I shall speak to Giles about this.”

  “Oh, heavens,” Anne muttered.

  “Am I in trouble, Mommy?”

  “No, lovey.” But I am. Life in Brighton would apparently be as restrictive as at Tremont, if the duchess had her way.

  It was a relief to everyone when the carriage finally came to a halt on a wide, bustling street, with buildings set closely together and wooden railings setting off the brick sidewalk from the street. Anne eyed their house with approval. Columns of stone, very white against the brick of the building, and bow windows gave it a graceful air, and the wrought iron railings were delicately turned. Smiling, she turned back to the carriage to assist Jamie, and then stopped, her breath catching in her throat. There it was, the sea, beyond the road and just past a stretch of grass that appeared to be at the top of a cliff. It wasn’t aquamarine, as in Jamaica, but blue-gray, reflecting the sullen sky above. As she watched, though, a ray of the sun broke through the clouds that had hovered all day, sparkling on the waves with an almost unbearable beauty. Anne’s spirits lifted. Her home was not here. Her home was across that sea, thank heavens, away from the duchess. Away from Giles.

  “Giles might have taken a house farthe
r from the shore,” Julia grumbled, distracting Anne from the odd little spurt of pain her thoughts had caused her. “One only dreads to think what one’s rheumatism will be like! But then, one mustn’t complain.” Glancing at the sea, Julia shuddered and turned away. “Come, Elizabeth. Assist me inside.”

  Jamie, taking advantage of the adults’ distraction, had wandered away, and Anne went in pursuit of him. She had just given him back into Nurse’s care and was about to go into the house herself, when Obadiah approached her. “Lady,” he said.

  “Yes, Diah? Isn’t it grand, to be near the sea again?”

  “I don’t like this house, lady.”

  Anne began to reply, and then stopped at the look on his face. He was serious. “Goodness, whyever not?”

  “Remember my prophecy, lady.”

  “What prophecy?” Anne wrinkled her brow. “Oh, on the ship. But that was in jest.” She smiled. “We’ve had the dragon, as you pointed out. What is here, Diah? Knights or ghosts?”

  “It is not wise to laugh at haunts, lady.”

  “Obadiah,” she chided, lightly touching his arm. “This is a new house. If the castle isn’t haunted, why should this be?”

  “I don’t like it, lady,” he repeated.

  “I don’t know what we can do about it now, Diah, but if it turns out you are right, we will call upon you to exorcise the ghost.”

  Obadiah’s look was reproachful. “Don’t laugh at the spirits, lady. Never know what they might do.”

  “I think in this instance we’ll be fine. This is England, Obadiah, after all.”

  “Yes, lady.” His expression still troubled, Obadiah inclined his head and then turned away, to assist in carrying the luggage into the house.

  At that moment Giles came around the corner of the house, presumably from the stables. Anne glanced at him and caught her breath, struck by his appearance in spite of her preoccupation. His hair, without his hat, was tousled; his riding coat of forest green superfine, cut for comfort rather than style, nevertheless fitted perfectly across his broad shoulders; and the buckskin riding breeches molded themselves to his legs. Swallowing hard, she looked away. This was not the aloof, arrogant Duke of Tremont; this was, instead, Giles, the man she had once known. He was far more approachable in his riding clothes than in more formal wear, and as devastatingly attractive. That he was older mattered not. Older, more reliable, more steady. Qualities most women would want in a man. She wished, though, that his eyes would light up, as once they had.