Cocky Duke

by Anders, Annabelle

  “It’s not only children who make this mistake.”

  She nodded. “Tell me something you wish you’d appreciated more.”

  “My father.” He surprised her with his quick candor. “I’ll have lived a life to be proud of as long as I am half the man he was.”

  “I cannot imagine that you are not.” She marveled.

  “He lingered for six months after I returned to England.” She remembered he’d said he’d been called back home from the war due to his father’s failing health.

  “It’s good that you returned then. You were able to be with him.”

  Mr. Bateman nodded. “I was at his bedside in the end, along with my mother and sister. Up until then, he spent a good deal of time talking about his family, my ancestors, our legacy.”

  Aubrey stared into the fire, allowing him to remember out loud.

  Allowing him just to… be.

  “Of all the duties he would pass on to me, he charged me to hold one above everything else. He wanted my promise that I’d take care of my mother and Adelaide, my sister, in his place.” He shook his head and exhaled loudly. “I had no idea how difficult a task that would be.”

  “Your mother is well?”

  “She is. In fact, I left her safe and sound at Secours before running into you.”

  “Secours?”

  He exhaled loudly. “Palais de le Secours, my family’s estate near Trequin Bay.”

  “Is it by the sea, then?”

  Again, he nodded. “much of the northwest border is coastline.”

  “It sounds lovely.” She didn’t want to ruin his forthcoming mood by asking more questions, so she pinched her lips shut.

  “It is my sister who is the difficult one.” For once he seemed to wish to be forthcoming. Perhaps because it was doubtful Aubrey would ever meet the girl. Perhaps he simply needed to share his burdens with someone, anyone.

  “How so?”

  “Before my father died, she was… high-spirited, more emotional than most.” He tossed a rock into the fire. “Afterward… I quickly learned that she was not to be trusted. She has a knack for doing the opposite of what she ought to do. She’d tell me she was staying with a family friend and I’d discover she was… not. She’s…” His jaw tightened.

  “She must have felt very lost after your father died.” Aubrey hated that anything troubled him so much. “I’m sure you did your best.”

  The muscles clenched all along his neck this time. “It wasn’t enough.” And rising to his feet. “We’d best break camp if we’re to get on the road before half the day is gone.”

  He dropped the curtain over his life once again.

  Both satisfied and yet also wishing he’d tell her more, Aubrey put the remainder of the food in Mr. Dog’s small bowl and poured what was left of the milk onto it. Had Mr. Bateman shared more than he wanted to? But no, she did not think that was what bothered him. She watched the dog do his best to break down the food into pieces he could swallow, pondering what her traveling companion had revealed.

  “Want to help me shake these out, Princesse?” Mr. Bateman had taken down the tent and was holding one of the quilts up.

  Happy to help him with anything that might quiet her mind, she left Mr. Dog to his food and took hold of the corners at one end of the quilt. They shook it a few times and then folded it perfectly, as though they’d done it a thousand times together.

  “How old is your sister?” Aubrey’s curiosity wouldn’t allow her to leave the conversation unfinished.

  “She’s two years younger than me.”

  So older than herself by about three years.

  “Has she learned from her mistakes?” She couldn’t help but hope the young woman could see how her actions affected others.

  Mr. Bateman took the corners of a second quilt from her and executed the last fold. “She has. Finally. I only wish…” He turned away and stuffed the quilt into the larger of her two trunks.

  “You only wish, what, Mr. Bateman?”

  “I only wish she would have learned earlier.” His smile was a grim one, spurring Aubrey into changing the subject to a happier one.

  “I believe that when I arrive in England, I’ll purchase Mr. Dog a jeweled collar. Nothing expensive, mind you. But something he can be proud of.”

  “You’ll emasculate the old boy.” Warmth spread through Aubrey upon seeing the tender expression he sent Mr. Dog’s way. Also, just to hear that hint of laughter in dear Mr. Bateman’s voice again. And then he asked, “are you in a hurry to get to London?”

  Aubrey’s heart stilled. “I am in no particular hurry. But what of your Birthday celebration?”

  “We’re making good time. What would you think if we were to deviate off the main road in order to visit a place of interest, for… educational purposes?”

  “For pleasure?” She grinned. The idea was a foreign one but not unwelcome at all.

  “Yes, Mrs. Bloomington, for pleasure.” Something in the way he addressed her formally, in a gravelly tone, sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Where exactly will this roundabout excursion take us to, Mr. Bateman?”

  “Non. You’ll simply have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

  Crazily enough, she did. “Deviate, we shall.”

  With a glance around, he closed the lid of the trunk, fastening the closure, and then hefted it onto the back of the carriage. “We’d best be taking leave of our camp, then.”

  Feeling excited, not only to be going somewhere special today, but at the slightest lengthening of their time together, Aubrey scooped Mr. Dog into the carriage, and watched while Mr. Bateman had a few words with Mr. Daniels.

  The driver scowled at first, shaking his head. Within moments, however, he’d come around to Mr. Bateman’s way of seeing things. Mr. Bateman climbed in beside her and after a bit of maneuvering, Mr. Daniels pulled them onto the road again.

  “Have you made this excursion before?” Aubrey couldn’t contain her curiosity completely.

  With his feet resting on the bench opposite them, Mr. Bateman leaned back and closed his eyes. “I did some traveling one summer, before the war.”

  “With school friends?”

  “Yes.” He smiled.

  “With the bully,” she smiled. “Hollis?”

  “Have you been taking notes, Princesse?” He laughed at her, even with his eyes closed. But then he reached out and pulled her into his arms, tucking her head onto his chest. “I doubt you slept much better than I did. We’ve plenty of time before we get there. Be comfortable and hush so I can get some sleep.”

  Torn between annoyance and exasperation, Aubrey chose amused indulgence instead.

  She wanted to be offended at his bossiness, but that was quite impossible with his musky, smoky manliness assaulting all of her senses and his powerful body cushioning her protectively.

  So instead, she lifted her feet onto the seat beside her, and burrowed a little deeper. He was right. Sleep had not come easily the night before. How could he make her feel so protected and comfortable sometimes, and so utterly off kilter at others?

  Before she could examine the question much closer, she put one hand on his chest, took a deep breath, and allowed the motion of the carriage to rock her to sleep.

  * * *

  Rubbing her eyes, Aubrey sat up and then stretched. Mr. Bateman had managed to exit the carriage without waking her and was outside talking with Mr. Daniels. She wondered how long they’d been stopped.

  They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but green fields, dappled with a few cows in all directions. Where had he taken her? Just as she was about to open the door she paused. Mr. Bateman had taken hold of Mr. Daniels by one shoulder and seemed to be conveying instructions, nothing of which she thought ought to require such intensity. He then reached into his coat and removed a handful of money which Mr. Daniels took possession of without hesitation.

  She frowned. Why was Mr. Bateman giving Mr. Daniels money?

  The driver t
urned away from him and Mr. Bateman brushed his hands together, as though he’d satisfactorily completed an irritating task.

  Aubrey pushed the door open. “Where are we?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask Mr. Bateman about the money. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to think about it.

  Especially when Mr. Bateman swaggered in her direction, looking quite pleased with himself. “You finally decided to wake up. We are a few miles from the small village of Amesbury where Mr. Daniels will change out the horses and return for us shortly. But as for our destination, you and I, and your son will walk the remainder of the way. That is if he’s able.”

  She hopped onto the ground before he could reach her. She was well rested and the cool air felt delicious on her face but… “Walk where?” She’d never heard of Amesbury. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  But instead of answering, he took hold of Mr. Dog’s leading string and reached out his other hand for hers. “This way, Princesse.”

  She had no resistance at all when presented with yet another opportunity to touch him—to allow him to touch her—and so she let her small hand be engulfed by his and wondered if she might be so besotted that she would follow him anywhere.

  “Won’t you give me a clue?”

  “See there?” He pointed in the distance. She could barely make out a blackish gray cluster rising up from the green. “Have you never heard of Stonehenge?”

  Her eyes opened wide. “The mysterious field of stones? Is that really so near?” She had, in fact, heard about it, but had never paid much heed to where it was. She’d certainly never imagined she’d see it. “How did you know it was here? Oh, but you have been before, with that bully boy.” She could hardly contain herself and skipped a few steps. Now that she realized where he was taking her, she couldn’t continue walking along at this sedate pace.

  She’d read about the circle of rocks and as they drew near the unusual landmark, was not disappointed. Mr. Dog enjoyed himself as well, sniffing and marking various debris on the ground along the way. She made a note to herself that she’d have to take the dog for several walks once she arrived in London. Poor thing was doing wonderfully riding inside for so long.

  “The tall ones are the sarsens and the smaller one’s bluestones.” Mr. Bateman squeezed her hand in what she thought might be enthusiasm.

  As they neared, he articulated some of the legends of the configuration’s origins in a manner that not only informed her, but entertained; magical, mythical, astronomical and religious. “But no one really knows.”

  “Perhaps that’s what they wanted.” Aubrey stepped inside the outer circle and then ran her fingertips along the large wall of stone beside her. “They wanted to keep everyone guessing.”

  “But they wouldn’t put so much effort into bringing them all this way and then moving them into position for no reason.” He too reached out to touch the stone. “To accomplish something so monumental, they had to have purpose, something to motivate them. Otherwise, why go through the pain of it? Why put forth the effort?”

  “Like war.” She said.

  “Like a war,” he agreed.

  For the moment, both of them simply absorbed the silence and the wonder of the symmetry around them, and the destruction. She couldn’t help but feel that the rocks represented mankind in general. Order, misunderstood purposes, destruction and decay.

  “Thank you for bringing me here.” She broke the silence they’d fallen into. Disappointment ebbed over her as a group of visitors approached from the same road they’d walked along, promising to put an end to the feelings of isolation and solitude the place exuded. The monument was still wonderful, magnificent even, but it had seemed magical to be alone with him amongst the mysterious markers.

  “I’m happy to see that look in your eyes. There’s a wonder about you…” He turned and dropped one hand on her shoulder, staring at her lips in a way that made her believe he might be meaning to kiss her. And she was not opposed. She tilted her chin, parted her lips, and just as she was about to close her eyes, voices bounced off of the stones around them, a reminder they were no longer alone.

  He dropped his hand and leaned back against the gigantic stone.

  Aubrey exhaled loudly. They had decided they wouldn’t do that again, hadn’t they? He had merely brought her here to see something special. He’d wanted her to have a good memory of her journey with him. They had become friends.

  She stared at the rocks around her. Why were they here? Why had Mr. Bateman come along just when she’d seemed to need him the most?

  “This is a great example of all we don’t know, about those that came before us, about the world, about ourselves.” She stared straight ahead as she spoke.

  “Aubrey.” His demeanor seemed almost apologetic.

  “A bit how I feel about my future.” She didn’t want to hear the reasons he had for not kissing her, and so she forged onward. “About what will happen after I get to London. Will I be lonelier there than I was as Harrison’s wife?” she laughed at herself, at her own insignificance.

  “You will not be lonely.” He stood very close. Both of them still leaning against the giant stone.

  She turned her head to see his face, if only his profile. “Why do you think that?” Genuine curiosity compelled her to ask.

  “Because of who you are. You are smart, you are beautiful, you are warm, and real. A man is lucky to meet a woman like you, to come across you in the course of his life.” A raw edge in his voice sent warmth flooding through her. But she shook her head.

  “I am not beautiful.” She was just… Ambrosia… Aubrey.

  “You are. Très belle.” At some point he’d taken hold of her hand again, and he squeezed it. “Some gentleman, many, I imagine, are going to realize what a diamond you are and pursue you. And none of them will be good enough, but you will marry.” He finally turned his head and met her gaze, his eyes looking even more brilliant against the gray sky. “You will have children, and then grandchildren, and they will all love you.”

  Aubrey hadn’t even considered that. “I wasn’t going to marry again—ever.” She surprised herself in that she put her intentions in the past, as though knowing him had caused her to change her mind about something so important already.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful who you select. Know him the way you know me.”

  “I should not care who his family are or what he does or who his acquaintances are?” She asked, half teasing.

  “Know all of those things.” He smiled. “But also know the other. Know who he is inside. Make him prove he is worthy of you.”

  Only in that moment, Aubrey couldn’t imagine any other man making her trust him the way she’d come to trust this one.

  “What of you? Will you marry? Do you plan to have children?”

  He turned his head away from her again. “I will.”

  The thought of him marrying some other woman… It hurt. To imagine him holding another lady’s hand, of smiling at her with those laughing eyes, of another woman having the right to touch that dimple whenever she wanted…

  It hurt Aubrey’s soul. “Will you marry for love?”

  She watched his throat move as he swallowed hard. “I will marry for duty, I always hoped love would play a part, though.”

  Oh, but this conversation had grown far too depressing.

  “I am picturing in my mind, all of your sons, a roomful of tiny little Mister Batemans… creating havoc and tearing through their grandmother’s castle.” Because at some point, she’d decided in her imagination that he’d grown up in a castle. What she did not know of him, she filled in with her own inventiveness.

  “And you shall raise tiny little princesses, with auburn hair and wide emerald eyes. Each of them lovely on the outside, but also filled with compassion and wonder and courage… just like their mother.”

  His throat moved, as though to swallow his emotion.

  “Absurd,” she said, her voice shaking. Because he was not suggesting in any w
ay that those same children might have dimples at the corner of their mouth, or that any might have eyes that were blue but could also appear gray.

  What was she thinking?

  Oh, but why would he say such things?

  “We shall see.” In the wake of the warmth of his compliments, uncertainty cooled her veins.

  She pushed away from the stone, and also away from him. She needed away from the tumultuous sensations he sent spiraling inside. Standing so close made it impossible to keep her feelings under control. One minute he’d make a comment that led her to believe he esteemed her, held her in affection even and then his next words seemed intent on ensuring that she did not build any expectations of him for the future.

  “First, I must establish myself in London.” This must remain her immediate concern. “As a widow, not some countrified debutante in search of a husband. As for the other…”

  “You’ll be fine, Princesse.”

  She didn’t need him to add the words: without him. She was coming to understand his intentions all too well.

  Chapter 9

  Aubrey

  Walking back toward where Mr. Daniels was to meet them, they each seemed lost in their own thoughts, and this time he did not attempt to take hold of her hand. Even Mr. Dog had lost his enthusiasm, slowing so much that Mr. Bateman scooped the dog into his arms to carry him the rest of the way.

  She was sad that the natural pleasure they’d taken from one another’s company for most of this journey had turned to something else... not regret, but loss. Which made no sense.