Summer Folly Page 8

  Smoothing his curls once more, she turned away and began to cross the room to close the drapes. She hadn’t got halfway across when she stumbled. What in the world? She looked down, and stifled a laugh. Scattered across the floor were toy soldiers, battalions of them, some in formation, some apparently felled by the enemy. They were finely crafted and detailed, and obviously old. Giles’s toy soldiers, the ones he had said were too valuable to be used as toys, telling their own tale of the afternoon’s events.

  “A firm hand, indeed,” she murmured, smiling, and tiptoed out of the room.

  “Good morning.” Anne sat on the chair the footman held out for her in the breakfast room, and smiled with some surprise across the table at the duchess. Beth wasn’t there, nor was Giles. Likely there would be some discussion about Jamie’s misbehavior. After some hard thinking and a good night’s sleep, Anne had come to the conclusion that Giles was both right, and wrong. Jamie did require more discipline. However, she was perfectly capable of supplying it, no matter what Giles or his mother might think.

  Julia set down her teacup. “Good morning.” Her greeting was curt. “I wish to speak with you about yesterday.”

  “I’ve spoken with Jamie, ma’am.” Anne’s voice was cool. “I have his promise he’ll behave, and I know he’ll keep to it as far as he’s able. He is still a little boy.”

  “I was not speaking of your son.”

  Anne looked up from her plate. “Oh?”

  “You may leave us,” Julia said to the footman, who bowed and then withdrew, leaving the two women quite alone.

  So. This was to be a serious talk. Anne squared her shoulders. “Is there a problem, ma’am?”

  “You may say so. I do not like your influence on my son and daughter.” She raised an imperious hand. “Now pray do not bother to deny that coming to Brighton was your idea, because it won’t fadge. I remember you well, missy, and your tricks.”

  “Speaking of which,” Anne interrupted, “why did Giles never marry the paragon of the girl you chose for him?”

  “He decided they didn’t suit. But that is not to the point. I will not have you disrupting our lives again, or upsetting Giles. He’s been through quite enough with you, eloping with his own cousin.”

  “What!”

  “And now you’re trying your wiles on Beth. Do you know that last night you were all she talked about? I finally got it out of her what you made her buy.”

  “She needs clothes,” Anne said, absently. She was still reeling from what the duchess had said. How had the events of seven years ago suddenly become her fault?

  “Beth is not forward like you, missy. She doesn’t know how to go on in company. I will not see her hurt.”

  “What are you saying?” She had forgotten this, the petty squabbling among women in society. In Jamaica she had dealt mostly with men, on estate matters. They were much easier.

  “Very well. You wish plain speaking? Then it is this. Leave my daughter alone. And don’t think you’ll have a second chance at marrying Giles, because I will not allow it!”

  Chapter Seven

  Anne stared at her a moment, and then let out a short, choked laugh. “You think I’m angling after Giles? Good God!”

  “I know you are. And pray don’t use such language in my house, because I won’t allow that, either.”

  “There’s a lot you won’t allow, isn’t there? You won’t allow Beth to leave you, you won’t allow Giles to marry—”

  “I do what is best for my children. If that means fighting you, then I shall. I trust I make myself clear?”

  “Quite.” Anne’s eyes met Julia’s cold gray ones squarely. “If, ma’am, and I say if, Giles should decide he wishes to marry me, I will decide on the basis of what is right for my son and myself, and no other. I trust I make myself clear?”

  “You defy me then?” The duchess silently returned Anne’s stare. “Very well.” She rose. “I warn you, however, that I have never lost a battle where my children are concerned, and I’ve no intention of losing this one.”

  Anne rose, also. “You bested me once before, ma’am, when I was young. You may have a surprise if you try again.”

  “I doubt it. You’re not up to my weight.” And with that, Julia turned and swept out of the breakfast room, leaving Anne trembling with impotent rage. She didn’t know what made her angrier, Julia’s belief that Anne would lose in any battle between them, or that she still might want Giles. She had more pride, and more intelligence, than to make a dead set for a man who clearly didn’t want her. If he had, he would have married her all those years ago, instead of courting someone else. And the duchess implied he’d been hurt by her desertion! That made her angry all over again. Julia must indeed think her a fool.

  Well, she would learn. Anne sat down. The girl she had been seven years ago hadn’t been able to fight the duchess, but Anne had grown since then. She had learned a great deal about dealing with people, and about getting what she wanted. If she decided she wanted Giles, she would find a way to have him. But she didn’t want him, she told herself again firmly, setting her teacup down with a soft clink of porcelain against porcelain. The man she had once fancied she loved was gone, replaced by the stodgy, proper Duke of Tremont. If she thought the old Giles was still there, underneath—

  Bah. She rose, tossing her napkin on the table. It did no good to think of this. Of course she had regrets about what had happened in the past; she probably always would. That did not mean, however, that she wanted to recreate that past, even if the duchess believed so. Likely nothing would change Julia’s low opinion of her.

  A slow smile spread across Anne’s face. Who was she, after all, to deny the duchess what she wanted? If it were a fight she desired, it was a fight she would get. She would soon learn that her opponent was worthy, indeed. In the meantime, if Anne had to stay in England, she was going to enjoy herself as much as she could.

  “Oh, there you are,” Giles said, as Anne began to climb the stairs to her room.

  She turned to look at him. “Did you want me for something, Giles?”

  “No. I was just thinking of taking a walk to see the town, and I was wondering if you would join me.”

  Dangerous. “You’re certain you want me to?”

  “Of course.” Giles sounded surprised, and glanced out the sidelights of the door. “We’re here. We might as well enjoy what we can.”

  Anne laughed. “You make it sound a most daunting prospect. Very well, let me change into something more suitable, and I’ll be happy to walk with you.”

  She was ready in just a few minutes, feeling as giddy and excited as a young girl. With remarkable foresight Madame Celanie had sent, just that morning, the primrose walking dress Anne had ordered. With buttons and braiding down the front, and a ruffle at the throat, it was quite the most fashionable frock she had owned in a long time. A bonnet of chip straw trimmed with ribbons and silk flowers, kid gloves, and the matching parasol completed the ensemble. There, she was suitably dressed for Brighton.

  Giles looked up as she descended the stairs. Really, she felt like a girl making her debut, all breathless and excited. How foolish of her. For a moment she thought she saw admiration gleam in his eyes, but, if she had, it was quickly masked. It was perhaps just as well. Had she not already decided that an involvement with Giles would only complicate her life?

  Giles offered her his arm, and they stepped out. “Oh!” Anne paused at the top of the stairs, staring at the view. The sky was azure, the sea lapiz, and the air seemed to shimmer with light. “Oh, this is lovely. I do love the sea.”

  Giles slanted her a look as they set off down the brick sidewalk toward the sea. “Is that why you wish to return to Jamaica?”

  “I like Jamaica for many reasons. Come, I refuse to wrangle on such a glorious day. This is a lovely area. What is it called?”

  “The Steyne. A fashionable address, I’ll have you know. The Marine Pavilion is farther down, closer to the shore.”

  “Yes, I saw
it last evening when Jamie and I went for a walk.” She looked up at him and twirled her parasol. “I never did learn just what the famous service you performed for the Prince was.”

  Giles looked uncomfortable. “Nothing so very much. Prinny is inclined to be grateful for all manner of things.”

  “Mm-hm. And how many people does he invite to the Pavilion?”

  “More than you might think. My dear girl, I am a duke, you know.”

  “Oh, pardon me. I forgot I was mixing in such exalted company.”

  For a moment Giles seemed to forget himself, grinning at her with such carefree abandon that the years melted away. She was a young girl again, hopelessly and helplessly in love. “Why do you never take my consequence seriously?”

  “Because you take it so seriously. Now, confess. What was the service you performed for Prinny?”

  “Well, if you must know—”

  “I must.”

  “Very well. I was at a levee at Carlton House when Princess Caroline came in, quite uninvited. You do know that she and Prinny haven’t been on the best of terms?” Anne nodded; the dissension between the Prince and his wife was well known. “It was obvious she was going to cause a scene. I—well, I was nearest to her, and so—I asked her to dance.”

  Anne stared at him for a moment and then let out a delighted peal of laughter. “No, really? And for that he’s invited you here?”

  “It distracted her. She left soon after.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Anne, people are staring at us. Must we discuss this?”

  “No one is staring at us. Though there are quite a few people out, aren’t there?” She smiled brilliantly at Giles. “And I imagine every one of them knows what you did.”

  “Anne—”

  “Oh, very well, Giles I won’t tease you about it. Though I wonder.”

  “What?” he asked, with obvious trepidation.

  “Have you become one of Princess Caroline’s favorites?”

  “I begin to think that asking you back to England was a mistake.”

  That hurt. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Anne glanced away from him, concentrating on other things. As they drew nearer to the shore, there were more people, walking, mounted upon fine horses, or riding in bright, shiny carriages. “Is this the fashionable time to promenade in Brighton?”

  “Apparently.”

  “And it’s only morning. In London this would be considered the middle of the night.” She stopped as they drew level with a plain iron fence. Past a narrow strip of lawn stood a handsome, rather plain building. Palladian in design, it had a central rotunda, oval-shaped wings, and green, shell-like canopies shading the windows. Because of the lawn, in a town where most houses fronted directly on the street, she had guessed what it was. “So this is the Marine Pavilion. Do you know, Giles, I’m almost disappointed? It’s not nearly as bad as I’d expected.”

  “No?” He grinned, and pointed. “What of the dome?”

  “Well, yes, that is a little odd.” The only thing exotic about the Pavilion was the huge dome, vaguely Oriental in appearance, floating high in the sky behind it. What its purpose was, she could hardly guess. “What is it?”

  “That, my dear, are the stables.”

  Anne looked up at him quickly. Was she really his dear? “The stables? Heavens!”

  “They say it cost seventy thousand pounds to build.”

  “Heavens!”

  “Quite. It’s quite an interesting building, I’m told. Prinny lives in a villa, but at least his horses live in a palace.”

  “Giles.”

  “He’d have all of it look like that, if he could.” He grinned at her. “Of course, you haven’t seen the inside yet. I understand that that is where Prinny allowed himself free rein.”

  “Why? What is it like?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “I will? Oh, Giles. Am I to be invited, too?”

  “If we can arrange it, yes.”

  “Oh, heavens. I certainly didn’t expect anything like that when I left Jamaica.”

  A wave of homesickness suddenly swept over her, in spite of the exciting events ahead. Brighton wasn’t at all like Jamaica, or even London. Instead, it was a small, compact, but bustling place; last evening, during her walk with Jamie, Anne had found that nearly everything of interest was only a few paces away. Most of it was centered on the Steyne, the main thoroughfare, which took its name from the grassy valley where once fishermen had dried their nets and was open on the east to the sea, affording a splendid view. On the other side it was quite built up. Near the Pavilion was Mrs. Fitzherbert’s house, now closed up, with its balcony where once the Prince had sat with her and watched the passersby. It was popularly supposed to be connected with the Pavilion by an underground tunnel. The Duke of Marlborough had his house nearby; so did Lord Berkeley, in a mansion appropriately called the Yellow House. Castle Square, where the Castle Inn was located and where most of the stage coaches stopped, was near to the sea front, while farther inland could be found Donaldson’s Circulating Library and Raggett’s, a club for gentlemen. Brighton Theatre was located on the New Road, a short street just behind the Pavilion. Beyond that, the sights grew more humble, the streets narrow and twisty, the buildings cottages made of flint. Even here, though, the fashionable world had encroached, with shops and such, which Jamie had pronounced boring.

  He had, however, enjoyed talking with Phoebe Hessell, an old lady they encountered where the Steyne met the Marine Parade. They had bought gingerbread from her basket and listened to her tales of her youth, when she had disguised herself as a man and had gone to war, to be near her sweetheart. Jamie had been less impressed by the sea, and by Brighton’s famous bathing machines, wagon-like structures painted red and blue, from which it was fashionable to dip into the swells of the English Channel. Used to diving into the turquoise Caribbean, both Anne and Jamie had scorned such a timid method of bathing, and decided that England was strange indeed.

  Anne let out a laugh. “What?” Giles asked.

  “Last evening when Jamie and I walked to the shore, he was terribly disappointed he didn’t see any whales.”

  Giles’s glance was quizzical. “Whales? Not in the English Channel, surely?”

  “But why not? After all, the Prince of Wales lives here.”

  “The Prince of—” Giles broke off, laughing. “Is that really what he thought?”

  “Yes. Children are funny.” She shook her head. “We expect them to know things that of course they cannot. When I explained to Jamie that Wales was a country, he was very disappointed.”

  “He’s not far off.” Giles sounded thoughtful. “Prinny’s grown as fat as a flawn. I suppose we could call him the Prince of Whales. Not the country.”

  “Giles!” Anne looked up at him, scandalized and delighted. “What a thing to say about your prince! The one for whom you performed such a great service.”

  “Er, yes. Speaking of whom, Anne, there he is.”

  “Heavens.” Anne stared as a party of people on horseback paraded toward them. Most of the people were familiar to her; she recognized Colonel McMahon, the Prince’s Private Secretary, and Beau Brummel, he who had become an arbiter of male fashion. In the middle of the group, well-dressed but otherwise undistinguished, rode the Prince of Wales.

  “My dear Tremont.” The Prince’s voice was deep and unexpectedly melodious. Anne had seen him before, of course, but never so close. No longer was he the handsome prince of his youth; he was indeed heavy, with graying hair and the unmistakable protuberant blue eyes of the Hanovers. There was, however, something about the way he held himself, something almost majestic, that made Anne realize that he was no ordinary man. “We had heard you were here. Welcome to my humble home.”

  Giles bowed. “Thank you, your Highness. May I present my cousin to you, sir? Mrs. Frederick Templeton.”

  Anne rose from her curtsy to see the Prince regarding her with twinkling eyes. “You are Pendleton’s daughter, are you not?” he asked.

&n
bsp; “Yes, your highness,” Anne murmured. “It is an honor to meet you, sir.”

  “The pleasure is mine, believe me, ma’am. You must bring her along to the Pavilion, Tremont.”

  Giles bowed again. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Anne echoed. “I would be most honored, sir.”

  “Good.” The Prince’s eyes twinkled again. “Brummel reminds me we must not keep our horses standing. Enjoy your walk, Tremont. Ma’am.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Giles bowed again and Anne curtsied, as the party rode away, kicking up a cloud of dust. “That went well, I think.”

  “Yes.” Anne took his arm as they began to walk again, toward the sea. “He’s very charming, isn’t he? Not at all what I expected.”

  “No, he’s a lot less starched-up than many in society. Some of whom,” he added as a landau approached them, “I fear we’re going to meet right now.”

  “Oh, dear.” A quick glance at the landau was enough for Anne to recognize the matronly ladies riding inside, Lady Wilton and Mrs. Hammond-Smythe, both arbiters of society, both avid gossips. She remembered them well from her season; doubtless they hadn’t forgotten her. Remembering the incident of the previous day, when she had been snubbed, she wanted nothing so much as to turn and flee. Only Giles’s hand, tightening unexpectedly on her elbow, prevented her.

  “Courage,” he said, his voice low. “Good morning, Lady Wilton, Mrs. Hammond-Smythe”

  Lady Wilton signaled to her coachman to stop. “Tremont. A pleasure to see you again,” she said, with great condescension.

  “And you, ma’am. I trust you remember my cousin, Mrs. Templeton.”

  This time Lady Wilton’s look was decidedly frostier. “Of course. How do you do, ma’am? I was just discussing with my daughter, Tremont, as to whether you would be here. One does hear rumors.”