Simply Anna Read online

  Tom tipped his head forward, bowing a bit awkwardly from his position on his horse. “I am glad you are well, miss. Last I saw you, well, I’d not have imagined you to be looking so lovely a mere week later.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Anna felt her blush return in full force and searched her mind for a neutral topic. “You have a beautiful horse, sir.” As soon as she said it, she mentally chided herself for such a stupid statement.

  “Do you ride?” Mr. Norton asked.

  Anna blinked. Did she? “I . . . I am not certain whether I do or not.”

  “We shall have to find out, don’t you think?” The overseer smiled, and his eyes twinkled. “I think a ride with such a lovely lady would be quite a pleasant way to spend the day.”

  Anna felt her own smile grow. She quite liked Tom Norton.

  “Return the horses to the stables, if you please, Mr. Norton,” Lord Philip said in a clipped tone. He tapped his riding crop against his leg. His jaw was tight, and Anna wondered if Mr. Norton had done something to displease him.

  Tom tipped his hat to Anna and rode away, leading Lord Philip’s horse.

  Anna noticed that Philip’s eyes had lost a bit of their brightness, and she thought that spending the day riding in the heat must have tired him.

  Betty must have assumed the same. “A drink, my lord?” She poured a glass of juice and held it toward him.

  “Thank you.”

  “If you stay wit’ Miss Anna, my lord, I see to de afternoon tea.” Betty curtsied again and departed.

  “Of course.” Philip moved into the seat next to Anna.

  “I must thank you for the gowns,” Anna said. “They are beautiful. It was very kind of you, though unnecessary to purchase so many.”

  Philip’s gaze moved quickly over her dress and back to her face. “I am glad you like them, but I shall have to defer all credit to Betty. Apparently she has excellent taste.” He raised his brow then took a long drink, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing one ankle over the other. Anna noticed his jawline was sharp and his chin strong. The face of an aristocrat. “What a pleasant location for a picnic. Was it your idea or Betty’s?”

  Anna was grateful he’d changed the topic from her clothing. His appraisal had made her feel very exposed. “I admit I was tiring of staying in and asked if we might sit outside. But Betty was the one who arranged for Malachi to relocate the furniture.”

  Philip nodded.

  Anna wondered what he thought of Malachi. She found the enormous man utterly terrifying. Was he dangerous? “Do you know who he is, my lord? A large man with . . .” She touched her fingers to her cheekbone and around her eye, indicating the placement of Malachi’s scars.

  “I do know him. Malachi is a fine worker, one of the few at Oakely Park born in Africa. Mr. Norton told me the marks identify which tribe he belonged to.” He turned his gaze fully to Anna’s face and must have seen her unease. “Does he frighten you?”

  “A little,” she said. That morning, Anna had walked into the main hall and come face-to-face with the dark man. His appearance and size along with the suddenness of the encounter had caused her to squeal. She’d hurried back into the drawing room to join Betty and had stayed inside, watching through the window until Malachi had finished carrying the furniture and she was certain he was gone. Just thinking of the incident made her heart beat faster. She winced as she thought of how the raised marks must have been formed. “The marks are curious, aren’t they, my lord?”

  “I suppose it seems that way to us, but to Malachi and his people it is the way of things. Only a very few slaves in Jamaica bear the marks. Since the abolition of the African slave trade, I’m told nearly all of the workers on the island were born in the West Indies.”

  “They do not know where they are from,” Anna said. She could not help but lower her eyes as she placed her glass on the table, wishing she did not feel so despondent. Where was she from?

  Philip clasped his hand over hers, and she raised her gaze. “Are you feeling well enough to take a short stroll before Betty delivers the tea? I promise we will walk slowly, Miss . . . ah, we never did settle upon a surname for you, did we? I shall have to keep thinking.”

  Anna rose to her feet and allowed a small smile at his obvious attempt to cheer her. She knew she should not permit herself to grow melancholy whenever she thought of her lost memories, but it was difficult to feel like a complete person when so much of her identity was missing.

  Philip tucked her hand beneath his arm, settling it into the bend of his elbow. “You will tell me if you become too tired or if you feel any pain, won’t you?”

  “Yes.” Anna lowered her face, grateful that her loose curls hid her expression. Lord Philip was clearly a much more thoughtful person than she’d imagined a wealthy plantation owner to be. He was concerned for her health as she imagined a good host would be for any guest at his home. There was no reason for her to become so flustered in his presence, but try as she might she could not prevent her fingers from tingling where they touched his arm.

  He led her at a slow pace down the main path beneath the rows of palm trees.

  Anna did her best to put aside her anxiety and decided she would steer the conversation away from herself. “Betty tells me you’ve not been at Oakely Park long, my lord.”

  “It is true. It was just over three weeks ago that I landed in Kingston for the first time.”

  “And how do you like Jamaica?”

  He turned his head and seemed to be considering for a moment. He pressed his lips together then moved his gaze to hers. “It is beautiful.”

  Anna knitted her brows. His answer was perfectly acceptable for polite company. She supposed he intended to keep their discussion from any realms too personal. Anna felt a small sting of disappointment. She’d hoped to become better acquainted with Lord Philip, to possibly become friends, but apparently he did not feel the same. Very well then. She would restrict her conversation to neutral topics.

  She glanced at Lord Philip. The corners of his mouth were pulled down, and his brow was wrinkled. He appeared to be contemplating, and she wondered whether she’d upset him. His gaze found hers and his lips lifted in a smile, but his blue eyes remained thoughtful.

  “Where did you and Mr. Norton ride today?” she asked, hoping to return him to his former good humor.

  “With the majority of the fall harvest complete, we visited the pastureland to look over the livestock.” He lifted his chin toward the fields from which they’d ridden.

  Anna glanced in the direction he indicated. “I didn’t realize there was pastureland. I assumed a sugar plantation consisted entirely of sugarcane fields.”

  “Oakely Park is nearly five hundred acres divided between cane cultivation, woodland, pastureland, and provisions such as orchards and vegetable gardens.” He spread his hand through the air in a grand gesture. “It takes more than sugarcane to keep the plantation running.”

  “Now that the harvest is finished, is the majority of your effort turned toward another of these endeavors?” Anna asked.

  “We will finish processing sugar, treacle, and rum, and then prepare the products for shipment. Then we will tend to other parts of the property that are neglected during harvest season. However, cane is where a plantation makes its living, and we shall plant again as soon as possible.”

  Anna liked watching him speak about Oakely Park. Philip’s eyes glowed with a combination of excitement and pride, something she wouldn’t have expected of a nobleman. “Based on your knowledge, one would think you’d operated a sugarcane plantation much longer than merely a month, my lord.”

  “Thank you.” He patted her hand that rested on his arm. “I suppose it is not in my nature to idly observe. My mother would tell you that I am impatient and at times hotheaded, but I like to think she intends it in the nicest way possible.”

  Anna laughed. “It sounds more like ambition to me.”

  “I am certain that’s what she meant.” Philip rolled his
eyes as a teasing smile played over his lips. She was certain he’d charmed many debutantes in London with that smile. He stopped walking and inclined his head, turning them back toward the Great House.

  A hundred questions fought their way to the tip of Anna’s tongue. She wondered about Lord Philip’s mother. Did he miss her? Why did his mother call him hotheaded? How had he learned so much about the plantation in such a short time? She wondered what had brought him to Jamaica alone. Surely a man with his connections should have a wife and family to accompany him across the sea. She remembered how Philip had avoided speaking personally and pressed her lips closed. She didn’t want to cause him any discomfort.

  She glanced up and saw that he was watching her with his tongue pressed into his cheek in a puzzled look. Anna thought quickly for something to explain away the frustrated expression on her face. “It is too bad you must wait months for sugar. Is there not another crop as profitable?”

  Philip’s confused expression grew, but he blinked it away, his manners obviously taking over. “Mr. Norton attempts at every opportunity to convince me that coffee will one day be as profitable as sugar. There is a spot in the mountains at the far end of the plantation where he is certain we will make our fortunes with a coffee farm.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I confess I am skeptical.” He lifted his brows, and his lips twisted in a smile. “You see, I am not always impulsive. I should like to research the matter first. And I have not seen the site. Last time we traveled in that direction, we were distracted by a young woman on the beach. Miss Sopping-Gown, I think she is called.”

  Anna rolled her eyes to the heavens, causing him to laugh.

  “I should like to see the location in the mountains. And all of Oakely Park. Will you take me?” She surprised herself with the boldness of her question, but his laughter had raised her confidence. Besides, she was growing increasingly bored in her bedchamber. Dr. Bevan had said that any small thing might trigger the return of her memory, and so far, sitting in the Great House had not done it.

  They reached the shade of the mahoe trees once again. Betty had placed a tray with a tea set, fruit, and sliced bread on the small table under a piece of netting to protect it from insects. Philip took her hand from his arm, assisting her as she sat in her chair.

  Anna had not realized how tired she was, and her dizziness was returning, but the fact that Lord Philip had not answered her request was worse than either ailment. Her stomach grew heavy. She touched her fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes.

  “Miss Anna,” Philip said after he’d remained silent far too long, “I should like nothing more than for you to accompany me on a tour of the plantation.”

  She lifted her gaze and found that he had crouched down in front of her.

  He took her hands. “But I must be certain that you are well. Dr. Bevan fears that overexertion could impede your recovery.”

  She wondered if Lord Philip worried that if she didn’t regain her memory, he would be trapped with a houseguest forever. But the thought melted away as quickly as it formed when he lifted one corner of his mouth in an expression that she was certain must have set the hearts of London’s ladies fluttering. Her own heart was not immune to the effect, and she wondered again how it was possible that this man was unattached. “I am recovering quickly, my lord.”

  He stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “Tomorrow I will be in Port Antonio, but the day after I planned to ride to the stills. Early, while it is still cool.” He moved to the table and placed a slice of cassava bread on a small plate and offered it to her. “If you feel well, would you accompany me? It is not far.”

  “I should like that very much, my lord.”

  Philip served himself a piece of bread and sat. The half smile returned. “Not many ladies would—it is not exactly a carriage ride around Hyde Park or an evening at the theater.”

  “But I shall enjoy it just the same,” Anna said. She was delighted to have something to look forward to after convalescing for a week. She was curious about the workings of the plantation, and truthfully, she was curious about Lord Philip. What sort of man was he? Everything she had seen indicated that he was kind and thoughtful and intelligent. But he was also an unmarried member of the aristocracy who lived alone in a colony four thousand miles away from England. What had brought him to this place when most men in his position allowed others to manage their holdings on their behalf?

  Anna was still contemplating the mystery of her host while she prepared for bed that evening. She stepped onto the veranda, leaning against the railing to breathe in the fragrance of the plumeria blossoms beneath her.

  Murmured voices drew her attention, and she stepped around the corner to the back of the house, squinting as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Although she could only make out shadows, there was no mistaking the forms of Malachi and Betty. They stood close, speaking in low voices. The couple embraced, and Anna hurried away, realizing she’d intruded on a private moment.

  As she slipped between the gauzy curtains into her bedchamber, Anna had the thought that perhaps the mystery of her own identity was just one of many secrets at Oakely Park.

  Chapter 8

  Philip glanced out the window at the lightening sky as he finished shaving. He felt anxious to get riding before the sun became too hot. He’d returned from Port Antonio late the night before, disappointed that there was still no word from the Governor-General, and hadn’t seen Anna upon his return. How had she spent her day? Was she still planning to join him this morning? He was surprised by how much he anticipated their outing, obviously a testament to the isolation of Oakely Park. He was in desperate need of society when a ride to the stills was the high point of his month.

  He stepped into his dressing room, where he knew Ezekiel would be waiting, bracing himself for another disappointment at the state of his wardrobe. He found that he was becoming accustomed to and even looked forward to a morning greeting from the boy. His practical side told him he really should hire a valet. His clothing was in a dreadful state. As far as cheerful and helpful went, he’d never replace Ezekiel, but as a personal attendant, the poor child was sadly lacking.

  “Good mornin’, my lord.” Ezekiel bowed in his customary manner, but instead of offering a pile of rumpled clothing, the boy opened the wardrobe door, displaying a row of clean shirts hanging in an orderly line. “And which trousers you prefer today, my lord?”

  Philip blinked slowly, raising his brows as Ezekiel spread his hand to indicate the equally cleaned and ironed breeches hanging next to the shirts.

  “The gray buckskins, please,” Philip stammered, purely out of habit. He wondered if he might have been out in the sun too long the day before. Had he awakened in the wrong house?

  Ezekiel’s smile widened as he fetched the clothing and assisted Philip in dressing. The child produced a starched collar, and not knowing what else to do, Philip leaned forward as the boy fastened it and finished it off with a cravat.

  Philip blinked again and stared dumbfounded in the mirror, studying the knot, which, to his astonishment, was entirely satisfactory. Surely much better than the pitiful efforts he’d made himself over the past month. “Ezekiel, where did you . . . ?” He waved his hand toward the wardrobe and then to his cravat. “How did you . . . ?”

  Ezekiel picked up Philip’s nightclothes, shaking them out and hanging them on a hook in the wardrobe before carefully closing the door. “I been practicing, my lord.” He smiled and held his head high. “And you be wearing yo’ top boots today, my lord?”

  Philip nodded and gaped at the freshly blackened and shined boots. He selected a waistcoat and jacket and found both cleaned and brushed. The small tear in the shoulder of his jacket had been repaired. He stared at Ezekiel, shocked and overcome with gratitude for something he’d taken for granted his entire life. He couldn’t imagine how the boy had learned all of this in one day. And the work it must have taken to wash, repair, and iron all of his
clothing . . . “This . . . it all . . .” He patted the boy on the shoulder. “Excellent work, Ezekiel.”

  Ezekiel’s grin grew impossibly large. “Will dere be anyt’in’ else dis mornin’, my lord?”

  “No. That will be all.” Philip couldn’t help but grin himself at the boy’s high spirits. He picked up two parcels as he left his bedchamber and started down the stairs. But he paused with his hand on the rail as the smell of food reached him. He’d certainly never been assaulted by smells of a warm breakfast at Oakely Park. A moment later, he stepped into the dining room and stopped short.

  Anna and Betty stood at the sideboard and turned toward him when he entered.

  Betsy curtsied, placed a pitcher of juice on the table, then hurried out of the room toward the kitchen building.

  “Good morning, Lord Philip,” Anna said, dipping in a small curtsy. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders. He imagined it would be painful to pin it up, and he had to admit he liked it loose. She wore a gown that would have set the ladies of London green with envy. The cut was obviously French and it was made of a beautiful pale-blue silk, both things the war had deprived the British of. He didn’t think the style would appear as lovely on many women, but Anna’s slender figure carried it perfectly. No matter Betty’s shortcomings, she knew how to select dresses.

  His attention was so captured by his houseguest—her hairstyle and her apparel—that he didn’t notice the plate she held toward him until she took a step closer. He pulled his mind back to the moment at hand but found that the situation in his house was not any more comprehensible. He was still at a loss to explain the changes. Breakfast was served on time. Ezekiel had transformed overnight into a competent valet. Perhaps he was still abed and dreaming, or perhaps his hallucinations were a symptom of the onset of malaria.

  Anna still held the plate toward him. She cleared her throat, and he realized he was standing in the doorway with his mouth open.

  He looked at the young woman before him, and the strange happenings made a bit more sense. He deposited his parcels on a chair and moved to take the plate. “Thank you, miss.”