How to Manage a Marquess (17 page)

Not that she was interested in marrying him. Of course not.

Well, it made no difference whether she'd marry him or not. He was not going to ask, and she had too much pride to try to wheedle a proposal from him.

She watched him carry the food hamper. He made it look easy, but she knew how heavy it was. She'd struggled to lug it when it had contained only breakfast for two. Now it was much heavier. She'd seen the vast quantity of provisions Mrs. Limpert had packed for them. The woman had even added a jug of lemonade and a bottle of wine.

Oh, Lord. Mrs. Limpert had given her quite the significant look as she'd slipped that wine in. Anne was very much afraid that no matter what she called Lord Haywood, the Banningly servants would manufacture a romance between them, which would encourage Lord and Lady Banningly and Papa and Mrs. Eaton and everyone else to imagine—erroneously—there was a wedding in their future.

If only Cat would marry the Duke of Hart and vacate the Spinster House. Lord Haywood would likely find a way to blame Anne for that, but it wouldn't matter if she won the lottery. Then she'd have a place of her own without the inconvenience of a husband.

But if Cat didn't marry . . .

She sighed. She'd have to get serious about finding a man she could tolerate for more than an hour or two. She didn't wish to live with her father and Mrs. Eaton for the rest of her life.

The thought was exceedingly depressing.

She looked down at Edward, who was skipping along beside her, holding her hand. She'd be living with him and Stephen as well. That would be all right. She could see that they got settled at Davenport Hall and met the village children. Papa and Mrs. Eaton might be too caught up in their new marriage and new baby to consider the boys' needs properly.

And they would need a new governess, though perhaps Stephen was indeed old enough for a tutor. She'd mention it to Nate—or rather, Lord Haywood. He hadn't any sons, of course, but he'd been a boy once. He would know more about the matter than she did.

She looked back at the marquess. Stephen was walking next to him, chattering away, and Lord Haywood was tilted slightly down toward the boy, obviously listening carefully to what he said. He laughed and said something in reply—and she felt her heart turn over.

Only because she thought it sad that he didn't have sons of his own. Yet. He'd said he planned on marrying someday. He would have to. He'd want an heir.

Edward tugged on her fingers to reclaim her attention. “I've never been in a boat before. Have you ever been in a boat, Miss Anne?”

“No, I haven't, Edward.”

Nate's head swiveled around at that. “You haven't been in a boat, Anne? Really?”

She flushed at his use of her Christian name. Likely he hadn't realized he'd done it.

“Yes, really.” She could have gone out on the water at any number of house parties, but she'd preferred to read in the library. The thought of being trapped with an aristocratic idiot, no hope of escape until the fellow decided to row them to shore—no. She'd wanted no part of that.

“But can you swim?” Lord Haywood asked.

“Yes.” Papa had insisted on that. “Well enough to save myself if I were to fall in.”

“And what about you two?” he asked the boys. “Have you truly not taken a boat over to the folly?”

Stephen shook his head.

“And I suppose no one taught you to swim, either.” He frowned. “That strikes me as rather dangerous living so close to the water.”

“Mama told us to stay away from the lake,” Edward said.

Lord Haywood's eyebrows rose, and he sent Anne what she took to be an incredulous look. She'd had only limited experience with children, but from observing Cat's brothers, she thought it bordered on miraculous that these two had obeyed their mother's wishes.

“Does this mean we can't go in the boat?” Stephen asked in a small voice.

“Well . . .” Lord Haywood was clearly undecided.

“Please?” Edward let go of Anne's hand to take Lord Haywood's.

“We'll do exactly as you tell us, Uncle Nate.” Stephen's tone was pleading. “Right, Edward?”

Edward nodded so vigorously, his little body shook.

Lord Haywood looked at the boys and then sighed. “Very well, you can go
if
you promise to sit perfectly still and hold Miss Davenport's hands tightly. There will be no fidgeting about or hanging over the side, understand?”

“Yes, Uncle Nate,” Stephen said. “We understand, don't we, Edward?”

Edward nodded again. “Yes. I promise to be very, very,
very
good.”

Something about the way the boys spoke twisted Anne's heart. It sounded as if they'd had to spend their short lives working far too hard to be good. It was useful now—it would be extremely dangerous if they misbehaved and fell into the water—but once they were at Davenport Hall, once they felt safe, she hoped they would learn how to be normal, mischievous little boys.

“See that you do so.” Lord Haywood gave the boys a strict, no-nonsense look and then continued down the path. “There's a spot over on the island where the water is quite shallow. I'll ask your mother if she'll let me teach you to swim. It's a very important skill to have.”

The boys nodded, though they looked rather doubtful.

They came out of the trees under a cloudless blue sky and crossed the lawn to the boathouse. As they got closer, Anne heard whistling coming from the building.

Lord Haywood's eyes widened—and then he grinned. “Zeus, that sounds like Duck Smith.” He lengthened his stride. “Halloo, Duck! Is that you in there?”

Edward looked up at her. “Uncle Nate knows a duck?”

Anne laughed. “I'm sure this duck is a man, Edward.”

At Lord Haywood's shout, a man wearing work clothes and a large, floppy straw hat came out of the building.

“By George, is that Master Nate?” The man hurried forward and grasped Nate's outstretched hand to shake it enthusiastically. “Or I should say Lord Haywood now, shouldn't I, milord?”

“Nate will do just fine, Duck.”

The man shook his head. Now that she was closer, Anne could see his skin was wrinkled and leathery—likely from hours spent in the sun—and his hair, tied in a queue that hung down past his collar, was white.

“Oh, no. I'll not be calling the Marquess of Haywood by his Christian name.” He turned to smile at Stephen and Edward. “These must be Miss Eleanor's boys”—his eyes continued on to Anne—“but who's this lovely lady?”

Lord Haywood smiled and performed the introductions. “Miss Davenport, this is Walter ‘Duck' Smith. As you've likely gathered, Duck was in charge of the boathouse when I was a boy. Duck, Miss Davenport.”

The man nodded. “The baron's daughter. Aye, I've heard of ye, miss.”

She surmised by the darkening of his expression that what he'd heard hadn't been entirely complimentary. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith,” she said politely.

“But how can it be that you've not met Stephen and Edward before, Duck?” Lord Haywood asked, seemingly oblivious to his friend's suddenly chilly demeanor.

“The boys don't know how to swim, milord, so it's wise they keep away from the water.” Duck shrugged. “And I'm well named. I stay down here by the lake. I'm not much for the big house.”

“It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Smith,” Stephen said.

“Oh, ye must call me Duck, Master Stephen. Everyone does. I won't know who yer talking to elsewise.”

“Uncle Nate is going to take us to the folly in a boat, Mr. Duck,” Edward said.

Duck frowned at Lord Haywood. “Is that wise, milord, them not being able to swim?” He looked at Anne. “And what about you, miss?”

“I can swim, Mr. Smith,” Anne said. Honesty made her add, “Though not terribly well.”

“The boys have promised to behave, Duck.” Lord Haywood looked at Stephen and Edward. “Haven't you, boys?”

The boys nodded vigorously.

“We're very good at doing what we're told, Mr. Duck,” Stephen said.

“I'm going to sit as still as if my bottom was glued to the boat,” Edward added, “and hold Miss Anne's hand.”

Mr. Smith nodded. “Good. See that ye do so. No standing up or moving around, mind ye. And stay away from the water unless the marquess has a hand on ye.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We promise, Mr. Duck.”

“Very good.” And then Duck looked at Anne.

She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “I promise to do exactly as Lord Haywood tells me also, Mr. Smith.”

A slow, rather lascivious grin twisted Duck's lips, and Anne felt a blush sweep up her neck, heating her face. Surely the man wasn't thinking what she thought he was? She glanced at the marquess—

And saw a distinctly hot gleam in his eyes. At least she thought she saw it. He blinked almost immediately, and it was gone.

“Splendid,” Lord Haywood said. “Come along then. We'll need one of the rowboats, Duck. I assume they're all in good order?”

“Aye. They aren't used much these days, more's the pity.”

They went through a door into a shadowy building with a few small rowboats stacked on the side and one or two larger boats bobbing in the water that filled the center of the structure.

“Take Miss Davenport's hands, boys,” Lord Haywood said, “and keep away from the edge.”

Stephen and Edward took hold of her hands at once. The three of them stood back and watched the marquess carefully remove his coat, waistcoat, and cravat, roll up his sleeves, and help Duck wrestle one of the boats into a sling contraption, which Duck then lowered into the water.

The boys stared at the boat; Anne stared at Lord Haywood or, more precisely, at his naked forearms, his broad shoulders and chest, and his muscles bunching and shifting under the fine white fabric of his shirt as he dealt with the boat.

Oh, Lord.
She remembered far too vividly how he'd looked without a shirt.

Unfortunately, Duck noticed where her eyes had strayed. He grinned and waggled his brows.

Fortunately, Lord Haywood was examining the boat and missed the man's expression.

She dropped her gaze to Stephen and Edward. Stephen was intent, serious, his grip on her hand tight. Edward, on the other hand—literally—was bouncing on his toes and making a small humming sound. She tightened her hold on his fingers, afraid he might launch himself at the marquess.

“All ready,” Lord Haywood said once the boat was tied to the pier. “Time to go aboard.”

Edward had moved from bouncing to jumping, though he still held Anne's hand. “Me first! Me first!”

The marquess smiled. “Ladies first, Edward.”

Edward froze mid-jump, and his face fell. “Oh.”

“I don't—”

Lord Haywood held up his hand to stop Anne. “I want you in first, Miss Davenport, so you can help steady the boat and settle the boys.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.”

Lord Haywood put the hamper in the bow along with his discarded clothing and climbed in, crouching low in the middle while holding on to the pier with one hand. He extended his other. “Come along.”

She let go of the boys—Duck stepped over to be sure they didn't bolt after her—and put her hand in Lord Haywood's. His palm was broad and warm, his grasp firm and reassuring. The neck of his shirt was untied so she could see the strong column of his throat and the angle of his jaw. A pleasant scent of
eau de Cologne
and exertion wafted over her as she stepped from the firm pier into the rocking boat.

“Oh!” She lurched and grabbed his shoulder.

“Easy,” he said, wrapping his hands around her waist and lowering her so she was almost sitting in his lap. “Are you all right?”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but whether it was from fright or something else, she couldn't say.

She needed to look confident for the boys, so she nodded as firmly as she could. Speech was probably best not attempted.

“See? The rocking has stopped. Now if you'll move to the stern”—he pointed with his chin since his hands were still on her waist—“and sit on the bench there, I can get the boys in. Stay low—in fact, it's best if you crawl.”

Doing as Lord Haywood asked was harder than she'd imagined—women's skirts were not made for moving around a boat. In the end, the marquess had to half lift, half push her onto her seat.

She felt the imprint of his hands all over her, and when she finally reached her place and looked back at him, she thought she saw the hot gleam back in his eyes. But then he turned to help Stephen into the boat and all their attention was on the boys.

“Ready?” Lord Haywood asked once Stephen and Edward were settled on either side of her.

“Oh, yes, Uncle Nate!” Edward bounced. He was too light to make the boat move much, but Anne wrapped her arm around him to be safe.

Lord Haywood nodded his approval. “Very good, Miss Davenport. Best to keep an arm around each of the boys.” He smiled. “Even Stephen might get a trifle excited.” Then he grasped the oars and looked up at Duck. “I left a note for Eleanor, but in case anyone comes looking for us, you know where to find us.” He frowned. “Is the folly locked?”

“Aye, but the key's where it always is.”

Duck shoved on the side of the boat while Lord Haywood pushed with an oar and then they were clear. Edward waved enthusiastically and even Stephen shouted good-bye as Lord Haywood's long, strong strokes took them out of the boathouse and into the bright morning sun and the open lake.