Amanda Scott (10 page)

He did not reply, and she saw that he had laid his cheek right against the rock and closed his eyes. He was still shivering. She could feel the granite’s warmth and hoped it would soon warm them; however, the breeze over her back was cool, even chilly, and she did not think it wise to stay long where they were.

“We should move,” she murmured, “at least get out of the wind. I suppose we should go back to the house, but I own, I’m not looking forward to walking in these wet shoes. I shudder to think how many bruises I’ve collected, stumbling over all those rocks along the riverbank, and this poor frock is in tatters, I daresay, not to mention soaked through.”

“My shirt will dry quickly enough,” he said, “and I’ve got a jacket somewhere back by that boulder I was standing on. Took it off ’cause it’s too tight. Couldn’t cast properly.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you weren’t wearing it when you fell into the river then,” she said. “A tight jacket probably would have been the death of you.”

“Wouldn’t have fallen in if you hadn’t startled me,” he pointed out sulkily. “Ought to know better than to shout at a fellow when he’s casting.”

“I don’t think I actually shouted.”

For the first time he looked a little sheepish, saying, “Guess I was a bit nervous. I’d been keeping low, so as not to be seen, but I knew I’d get a much better cast from that boulder.” He paused, then added in a tone that he strove to keep casual, “I say, you don’t mean to tell Uncle Michael about this, do you? He’ll fly into even more of a rage with me than he did yesterday.”

“Just because you tumbled into the river?”

“Because I was even near the river. He was devilish put out to learn of old Appleby’s departure, you see, and he ordered me to continue my lessons by myself till he finds me a new tutor. Until half past twelve every day without fail, he said.”

“Well, I shan’t tell him unless he asks,” Anne said, “and I daresay he won’t unless he sees me looking half drowned, which must be how I look right now. For that matter, is it not nearly half past twelve?” she asked, feeling a stir of alarm when she recalled that Maisie had said a nuncheon would be served for the family just before the servants enjoyed their chief meal of the day.

“We’ve time,” he said, not moving. “The sun’s not directly overhead yet, so I’d guess we’ve at least an hour.” He looked at her searchingly for a moment, then said, “I say, I nearly had you in with me at the last, didn’t I? Good thing you were able to catch yourself or we’d both have been as dead as mackerel.”

She said, “I am glad, certainly, that you did not pull me in with you, but I can swim, so it would not have been fatal. I am not certain, however, that in my frock and these heavy shoes I’d have been able to hold onto that branch for long, though.”

“If you can swim so well, why didn’t you just jump in and pull me out?” he demanded.

Despite the note of resentful bitterness in his voice, Anne answered matter-of-factly, “My eldest brother, James, who taught me to swim, commanded me most strongly never to do such a thing. He said the most likely end would be for me to drown right along with the person I was trying to rescue.”

“And I suppose James knows all there is to know about everything, or so
you
think.”

“James is dead,” she said evenly. “He was killed in a hunting-field accident when I was nine.”

He did not reply, and after some moments, she sat up and said, “We really must return to the house, I think. I’ve got a cloak somewhere back there on the riverbank, and we can collect your jacket, though if it is truly a tight-fitting one, you may have trouble getting it on over your wet shirt. Why did you choose such a tight one when you knew you would be fishing?”

“They are all tight.”

“Gracious, I know that fashion dictates—”

“Not fashion. I’ve grown, that’s all.”

“Then you should have new ones made.”

“One does not quite like to mention new clothing when Uncle Michael is constantly preaching economy,” Andrew said stiffly. “The way he carries on, anyone would think I’ve got no fortune at all, but I know that cannot be so, for my father always had vast amounts of money to spend.”

When he sat up, Anne noted that his shirt looked much the worse for wear, and that not all the damage could be ascribed to his ducking. “I will talk to Lord Michael at once,” she said. “You must have proper clothing, for goodness’ sake, and no doubt, Lady Sylvia will also require some new things.”

Andrew stood up, and she could hear the squishing sound of water in his shoes. He said, “Uncle Michael said last night that he would send for her, so I suppose she will be home by midweek or so.”

“I daresay you will be glad to see her.”

“Sylvie don’t bother me. She’s a quiet little thing.”

They soon found Anne’s cloak and his jacket but not his fishing pole. She expected him to be angry over the loss, for her brothers were obsessively attached to all their sporting gear, but Andrew said only that he had other poles.

“If that is so,” she said, “perhaps you might be kind enough to lend me one some morning.”

“Do you fish?” He looked at her in astonishment. “I must say, you are very unlike other ladies of my acquaintance. Does Uncle Michael know you enjoy such masculine pursuits as fishing and swimming?”

“I don’t know. Would it matter? I have always preferred being outdoors as much as possible, which reminds me … I hope you have a horse in your stables accustomed to carrying a lady.”

“Certainly we do, more than one, for that matter.”

“Good, because as far as I know, no arrangements have yet been made to transport mine from Rendlesham. My brother Harry said he would see to the matter, and so did Papa, but like as not, each will assume the other has done so, and nothing will be accomplished until I attend to it myself.”

They soon reached the lake, where they agreed to separate, Andrew assuring Anne with a resumption of his habitual loftiness that he could easily slip into the house and up to his bedchamber without being seen. She wished she might do likewise but did not feel that she knew the huge house well enough to be certain of finding her way without getting lost if she entered by any door but the main one.

Leaving her when his path led through the home wood, Andrew turned back abruptly after taking only a few steps, to say gruffly, “Thank you. I’m sorry I said that about your brother.”

She could tell the words did not spring easily to his lips but cost him an effort, as though he were unaccustomed to expressing either gratitude or apology. Smiling, she said, “I should just be grateful, I expect, that you are not still vexed with me for startling you. I hope you don’t catch a chill from your wetting.”

She was rewarded with a slight smile that instantly reminded her of Lord Michael, and found herself wishing that she might see each of them smile more often.

If she did not manage to avoid being seen, at least her cloak hid the worst damage, and since she had chosen not to wear a hat, she could hope the porter would blame the mischievous breezes for her untidy hair. He did not seem to notice anything amiss, and when she encountered Elbert, she quickly took a high hand by asking if he had attended to all his duties.

“Yes, my lady, but I should perhaps tell your ladyship—”

“It is not your place to tell me things, Elbert,” she said firmly. “No doubt you ought, in any event, to be helping in the dining room. They are laying out a nuncheon, are they not?”

“Yes, my lady. I shall be ringing the bell in fifteen minutes, but before you go up, I think you should—”

“Thank you, Elbert,” she said repressively. Knowing from experience that personal servants soon began to take an almost parental interest in their mistresses, she did not intend to let Elbert forget his place. She was no longer, after all, a daughter of the house, but its mistress, and she did not intend to allow any of the servants to order her about. “I must go,” she said, “for I have been out in the gardens and am in no fit state to be seen.”

Hurrying upstairs, hoping her shoes were not leaving a trail of revealing damp footprints, she was aware that she had snubbed her footman rather rudely. Such behavior was not her normal custom, but she was growing tired of being instructed by the Upminster servants. It was clear now that taking control of the household was not going to be as easy as she had hoped. When she neared her bedchamber, she realized what she had been thinking and gave herself a mental shake, wondering how she had thought she could take command of such a vast place in the space of a day.

Maisie and Juliette were both awaiting her in her dressing room, and both, in their own ways, began scolding her for her tardiness. The kitten fell silent the moment Anne picked it up and began to stroke its soft fur, but Maisie was not so easily stilled.

“Merciful heavens, Miss Anne, what have you done to yourself? Just look at them nails, and those scratches on your arms!”

Setting the kitten down on the dressing table, Anne bore with the maid’s reproofs patiently while her still damp frock and shift were whisked off and replaced with fresh ones. Juliette watched the process critically, jumping to Anne’s lap the moment she sat down to have her hair brushed and her nails pared.

“I don’t know how you’ve gone and got yourself in such a mess, Miss Anne. I didn’t even know it had begun raining again, but I’d certainly have thought you old enough to know to come inside before your clothing was soaked right through. Just look at yourself! You look as if you was dragged through a hedge backwards, and you’ve broken nigh onto every fingernail. I declare, the last time you looked like this was when Mr. Harry threw you into the pond at Rendlesham, but I should hope that even such a hoyden as what I know you can be would not—”

“That will do, Maisie,” Anne said quietly, meeting the maid’s astonished look in the mirror with a direct one of her own.

Maisie folded her lips tightly together and continued her work. She was efficient, and Anne, looking calm and serene in a high-waisted afternoon dress of pale pink muslin, was on her way downstairs soon after Elbert had rung the bell.

He and another man were alone in the hall when she approached the dining room, and Anne thought the second was Lord Michael until he turned, and she recognized Bagshaw. Encountering Elbert’s gaze just then, she thought he was trying yet again to convey a message to her, but she could scarcely stop and ask him what he meant by it right there in front of the butler. She understood soon enough, however, and understood, as well, that she might have been wiser to have let Elbert speak to her earlier.

No sooner had the footman seated her than Lord Michael said, “I understand that you left the house unaccompanied this morning, madam. I thought I made it plain that Elbert was to go with you.”

“You did, sir,” Anne said, meeting his stern gaze calmly, but aware, too, that Andrew—his hair still noticeably damp—had grown very still. “Elbert had duties to attend to in the house, my lord. Not realizing, you see, that I have formed the habit of arising quite early, he had not finished his work before I came down to break my fast. And since I meant only to walk in the garden—”

“Elbert’s primary duty is to serve you,” Michael said in a tone that brooked no argument. “When you do not require his services, Bagshaw will assign him tasks to do, but you must not leave the house without him. Surely, you did not leave your father’s house without being attended by a servant.”

“I am sorry to contradict you, sir, but in fact, I did so frequently. My eldest sister never did, of course, for she was a great heiress and knew the ceremony due to her position. But I was in and out of the house all day, supervising gardeners as often as I did the household staff, so it was just too cumbersome always to be sending for a footman to accompany me. We always had one in attendance when we drove out in the carriage, of course, but surely …” Finding it impossible to proceed in the face of his stern, unblinking gaze, she fell silent, conscious of the interest of the others at the table, and the servants. Even her father had never taken her to task before the servants, and she found herself wondering if Lord Michael, during his time in the army, had scolded his junior officers in front of the rest of his men.

“In future,” he said sternly, “you will not go outside without a proper attendant. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.

“Excellent. Do you also understand, Elbert?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Anne felt warmth flooding her cheeks, but Michael’s attention had already shifted elsewhere. Signing to the servants to leave the room, he said to Andrew, “I trust you were able to keep yourself properly occupied this morning.”

With an air of studied indifference, the boy helped himself from a tureen of vermicelli soup. “I kept myself occupied,” he muttered with a scowl. “How you expect me to teach myself anything worth knowing, I cannot imagine.”

“You would not have to do so had your behavior not convinced Appleby he’d be happier elsewhere.”

“He was no better than an old hen, always clucking and pecking. He did
not
treat me with proper respect.”

“I’ve a good mind, this time, to hire a tutor who will treat you as you deserve,” Michael said grimly.

Lord Ashby, intent till now upon his food, looked up and said hastily, “Now, dash it all, Michael, don’t be saying what you don’t mean. By Jove, the lad’s the seventh Duke of Upminster. He is quite right to demand that his inferiors treat him with respect.”

“Respect must be earned,” Michael retorted, “and a duke who cannot read or write properly will not merit much respect from his so-called inferiors.”

“I
can
read and write perfectly well,” Andrew snapped, “even Latin and Greek. I just don’t happen to like it much, that’s all. If I had as my tutor someone other than an ancient decrepit, I might become more interested, but to be shut up for hours on end with an old chap who preaches and lectures from dusty books and notes is more than anyone should have to tolerate, let alone me.”

Michael regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment. “No doubt it would do you good to go to school,” he said gently.

Lord Ashby said, “No Duke of Upminster has ever gone away to school, Michael. It just ain’t done.”