Simply Anna Page 8

  Anna’s brows drew together and then smoothed pleasantly. “I hope you slept well.”

  Philip scooped fried plantains onto his plate and then added some breadfruit and salted fish. “Quite well. Actually I have doubts as to whether I have fully awakened.”

  “And why is that, my lord?” Anna sat at the table.

  He joined her. “I rose to a very different household than that of yesterday.” Philip reached for the pitcher, only to have Ezekiel hurry from his station to fill their glasses. Apparently, the boy had become a capable footman as well. “It seems that someone has organized Oakely Park’s domestic schedule and trained the staff in their duties.”

  Anna pursed her lips as if she were pondering as well, then she took a bite of cassava bread. But a smile pulled at her mouth while she chewed. She darted a glance at him and then back to her plate.

  “You do not have any idea what might have brought about this transformation, do you?”

  Anna shrugged and lifted her gaze to his. “You have very capable servants.” Her toffee-colored eyes were wide with feigned innocence. “I do not think it would have required much training—if indeed someone did train them.”

  Philip tapped his chin. “Whoever this person is, I find myself immensely in her debt. She is much more capable than I when it comes to household management.”

  “Perhaps she was simply grateful for the kindness you’ve shown her.”

  Philip glanced at Anna’s hands while she cut a piece of breadfruit and noticed that they were red and chapped. She must have done much more than merely instruct the servants. The amount of laundry alone would have taken one boy all day, and he felt a warmth in his chest accompanied by a tingle of guilt when he realized that Anna must have worked alongside Ezekiel.

  When Anna saw him gaze at her hands, she hid them beneath the table. “I do hope your plans have not changed today.”

  “Not at all. In fact, I acquired a suitable mount and sidesaddle in Port Antonio yesterday so you would have an easier time of it.”

  Anna pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, my lord, you did not need to—”

  Philip held up a hand to stop her. He shook his head, remembering that in spite of the secretive happenings at Oakely Park, he was still the master of the house. “Let us agree there will be no more ‘You shouldn’t have’ or ‘I am in your debt’ between the two of us.” He leaned closer and allowed a smile to lift his lips. “After all, we are friends, are we not?”

  Anna’s cheeks reddened at his words. “I hope we are friends, Lord Philip,” she said, touching her finger to the base of her neck.

  He noticed again how fetching she looked in the dress, and the thought sprung into his mind that he was glad Mr. Norton wasn’t here to admire her. He had shocked himself with the surge of anger he’d felt toward his overseer when he’d flirted with Anna. But he couldn’t say why it had bothered him to the point that he’d snapped at Tom and dismissed him. Perhaps the heat had gotten to him. Come to think of it, Dr. Bevan had also shown a particular interest in Anna. He would need to keep a closer watch on the men—and on Anna, as there were few women on the island and far fewer who were lovely and delicate and . . . He ground his wayward thoughts to a halt. “Very well then, if you are finished with your meal, Miss Secretly-Launders-Waistcoats . . .”

  Anna cringed, wrinkling her nose, but a small giggle burst from her mouth. “My lord, that is the worst name so far.”

  “Yes, it did not quite roll off the tongue the way I’d hoped.” He pushed his chair back and stood, shrugging as he dropped his napkin onto the table. “I shall have to keep trying.” He fetched the parcels. “I failed to find a riding habit in the thriving shopping district of Port Antonio, but I did acquire a cape that I think will do the job nicely, and silk is much cooler than wool.” He tore off the paper and unfolded a buff-colored cloak.

  “Oh, it is beautiful.” Anna rubbed the cloth between her fingers. “My lord . . .”

  Philip waggled his finger back and forth like a pendulum. “Remember, friends.”

  Anna opened her mouth then closed it. She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You are very welcome.” He opened the other parcel and laid a parasol and a pair of kid gloves on the table. “I did not think you would be comfortable wearing a hat with your injury. And truth be told, the selection was rather sparse.”

  “This is all perfect.” Anna slipped her hand into the gloves and tied the cloak around her shoulders.

  Ezekiel delivered Philip’s hat and gloves and then hurried out the door to the stables. Philip and Anna followed and waited only a few moments before the boy returned with two saddled horses. He led the animals to a stone mounting block at the side of the front steps.

  Philip watched Anna, wondering what was happening in her mind. Was she frightened? She didn’t appear to be. Did she know how to ride? Perhaps something as simple as mounting a horse would bring back her lost memory.

  Anna shook back her hair as she neared the horse. “What is her name?” she asked, nodding toward the gray speckled mare.

  “She has none that I know of.” Philip patted the horse’s neck. “Perhaps I should give her one.”

  “I think that is a terrible idea, my lord. Unless you are better at naming horseflesh than houseguests.” She pursed her lips and quirked a brow, her eyes sparkling.

  Philip had seen that precise expression on ladies of the ton as they’d flirted and teased—even Jacqueline had used it often—but on Anna the look made his knees feel like jelly. And she did not even seem to know she was doing it. He couldn’t imagine the power this woman would have if she were to employ her flirting energy to its fullest potential.

  “Smokey,” he blurted.

  “The horse’s name?” Seeing his nod, she smiled. “It seems I was wrong, my lord. Smokey is just the name for this lady.” She turned to the mare. “What do you think, Smokey?” Anna ran her hand down the horse’s neck and stepped up onto the mounting block. She lifted her foot, placed it in the stirrup, and pulled herself into the saddle in one swift motion, arranging her cloak over her legs. “Apparently I do know how to ride,” she said, looking surprised and rather pleased. She took the riding crop and the parasol Ezekiel held up to her. “Thank you, Ezekiel.”

  Philip noticed the conspiratorial smile that passed between the two of them, and he thought he even saw Anna wink at the boy. The warm feeling in his chest returned, and he pushed it down, quickly mounting his horse and starting up the path ahead of Anna. He needed a moment to get his emotions under control.

  He’d spent the last few months constructing and fortifying a wall around his heart. This woman and boy had managed to crumble part of it away in merely a few weeks. Philip felt intensely vulnerable when it came to the two, and it frightened him. He worried that he had come to care too much for them. The fear of being hurt again was all it took to shore up the battlements and ensure that he was strong enough to withstand the assault.

  Anna joined him on the road, looking as comfortable in a saddle as anyone he knew. When they reached the top of the hill, she reined in next to him. “It is magnificent,” she said in a breathless voice. The wind lifted her hair, and she shook it out of her face.

  Philip followed her gaze over the leafy jungle up the jagged purple mountains covered with wisps of volcanic steam and down to the deep blue of the sea, where pelicans soared and swooped into the water. He pointed out the various areas of the plantation and watched Anna’s eyes narrow thoughtfully and her face fill with excitement and interest—precisely how he’d felt when he’d sat in this spot for the first time.

  “Shall we see the stills then?” she asked.

  They rode toward the cylindrical stone buildings, and once they arrived, she leaned over to hand him the parasol while she dismounted.

  As they walked through the buildings, Philip explained how the rich, dark treacle was the wastage from the sugar process and in the stills it was converted to rum.

  Anna watched the entire proc
ess, paying attention to every step. She studied the liquid bubbling in copper pots and the pipes siphoning between them as the fermented juice was distilled into alcohol. She watched as workers filled large barrels with the finished product. The sweet and pungent aroma was strong enough to cause Philip’s eyes to water, but Anna didn’t seem bothered by it.

  They stepped outside. “And what is this?” Anna pointed to the shallow pots on the ground.

  “Adding treacle that has caramelized in the sun improves the rum’s flavor,” he explained. He smiled at her curiosity and was surprised by the questions she asked. She was not merely going along with him to pass the time and nodding disinterestedly as would most ladies he knew. She was truly fascinated by Oakely Park, and it gave Philip an immeasurable amount of pride to show it to her.

  They watched as hogshead barrels with the Oakely Park symbol were filled with treacle, rum, and sugar crystals and transported to a shed.

  “Tomorrow, the first shipment of our crop will travel to Port Antonio,” Philip told her. “Malachi and his gang will leave with the mules and carts at first light.”

  “You must be so proud, my lord. To see all the hours of labor packed tidily away and turned into profit.” She patted a hogshead barrel. “It must be immensely rewarding.”

  She had expressed his feelings completely. High marks at the university, a successful day hunting, even winning a considerable wager at cards—nothing in his life had ever compared to the satisfaction of laboring with his workers and seeing the end result. He didn’t think any of his friends in London would understand if he tried to describe the sensation. They would all think he’d gone mad, laboring in the fields with slaves. He blew out a breath. Perhaps he had. But he was managing the plantation according to his own system. Not his father’s and not Horace Braithwaite’s. And it was prospering.

  He looked to where Anna leaned back, resting against a barrel and realized that he’d kept her much longer than he’d intended. She must be exhausted and hungry. Dr. Bevan had warned against too much exertion.

  When she saw him walking toward her, she straightened and smiled brightly although she blinked a few too many times.

  “Miss Hogshead, I fear I am going to incur the wrath of Dr. Bevan if you do not rest.”

  Anna did not argue or object to the surname, which in itself indicated how tired she must be. She took his arm, and as there was no mounting block, he brought Smokey to a low, moss-covered wall where she could step up.

  They rode back toward the Great House at a slower pace. Philip told himself that it was because he was worried for Anna’s health, but truly, he’d enjoyed the day and was reluctant for it to end. He glanced at her, noticing again how tired she looked. “I hope you will feel free to take Smokey for a ride whenever you like.”

  “Thank you. I would enjoy that.”

  “As long as you are careful to stay within the boundaries of Oakely Park, you will be safe.”

  Anna nodded.

  He glanced at her and cleared his throat. “Miss, I’d like to ask you a question if you don’t mind.”

  She turned her gaze to him. “Of course, my lord.”

  “The other day when we talked, you asked how I liked Jamaica, and I’m afraid I disappointed you with my response.”

  Anna looked at the road ahead and remained silent for so long he feared she would not answer. The plodding of the horses’ hooves sounded loud to his ears, and he nearly spoke to fill the silence.

  But finally she turned to him. “I was disappointed, sir. Your answer seemed . . . I suppose I’d asked the question in hopes to learn more about you.” Even in the shade of her parasol, he saw her face redden.

  He was surprised by her honesty and knew he could not respond with anything less. “My answer was . . . trite . . . because my feelings about Jamaica and Oakely Park are complicated. I do not know if even I understand them.”

  Anna watched him. She nodded slightly, encouraging him to continue.

  “I love it and hate it. It is hot and full of mosquitoes and wind and violent storms. I miss London desperately. The society that was my life—my family, friends. But at the same time, I feel a fierce attachment to this land that I cannot explain. I have never worked harder or felt more pride in anything. I do not know how to even begin to describe the feelings I have, and when you inquired I found it was simpler not to try.”

  They drew near to the house, and Ezekiel hurried from the stables to meet them.

  Anna reached to touch Philip’s arm. “You do not need to explain, my lord. It is difficult to describe emotions for something one is passionate about.” She spoke in a soft voice.

  Philip met her gaze for a moment before he dismounted. He held onto Anna’s waist as she climbed down, then he offered his arm.

  Anna pushed her hair back over her shoulder and slipped her hand beneath his elbow. “You were very brave to come to Jamaica alone, Lord Philip, whatever your feelings.”

  “No more than you, surviving a shipwreck,” he said as they walked up the steps to the house.

  “I do not know if I was brave or not.” Anna glanced at him then away.

  “Mr. Norton and I found an oar with strings from your gown wrapped around it. I could never hope to be as brave as a woman who bound herself to a floating piece of wood in the middle of an ocean.”

  Anna squeezed her eyes shut. After a moment she blew out a heavy breath. “I wish I remembered. I look in the mirror and see a stranger. My own name does not sound familiar to me. I do not know whether I have a family or . . .” She raised her gaze, and he saw tears in her eyes.

  “Anna, I know you do. And I know they miss you. Somewhere, people who love you are searching frantically, worried out of their minds. How could they not be?”

  She blinked, and the tears spilled over. “I do not know. Maybe there is no one.”

  “Impossible,” he murmured. He offered her a handkerchief.

  Anna took it and dabbed her eyes. “I am sorry, my lord. I do not mean to ruin such a lovely day with my self-pitying.”

  Ezekiel hurried through the door and took Philip’s hat, Anna’s parasol and cloak, and both of their gloves.

  Philip lifted Anna’s hand and turned it over, placing the necklace into it. “I’d meant to give you this earlier. I took the liberty of having the clasp repaired while I was in town.”

  She studied the gold disc, brushing her finger over the inscription. “I wore this necklace?” She raised her eyes and, seeing his nod, looked back down at it. “Why don’t I recognize it? Not even a bit?”

  “I am sorry.” He had hoped that the sight of her necklace would bring her memories tumbling back. He gritted his teeth, feeling helpless to do anything for her.

  “I think I’ll lie down,” Anna said. Her shoulders slumped. “Thank you for today, Lord Philip. I enjoyed it immensely.”

  He didn’t know what to say. Everything that came to his mind sounded pathetically inadequate. Standing in the main hall, Philip watched Anna ascend the stairs, wishing he knew how to help her or at least comfort her.

  Philip was met in the drawing room by Ezekiel, who offered a glass of brandy which Philip readily accepted. He sat heavily in a chair in the bow of the window, watching the colorful birds flitting through the trees as his mind turned over the events of the day.

  He knew what he had told Anna was true—a woman as intelligent and beautiful as she would be missed. His stomach grew heavy as he considered who might be missing her. Anna was undoubtedly adored by someone. A husband, a fiancé . . . He realized he was clutching the arm of the chair and forced his fingers to relax.

  What he truly feared was not that Anna would never remember but that she would regain her memory and leave. He hated himself for the thought and chased it away, recalling the promise he had made to himself as he’d left London with his heart and pride torn in two. He had vowed to marry a wealthy woman who would increase his holdings. And he would not fall in love. He wouldn’t risk allowing himself to care for someone. Tha
t path only led to pain.

  He curled his lip as he thought of Clarissa Stapleton. He really should reciprocate the dinner invitation, and perhaps Clarissa would improve as he knew her better. He hoped to at minimum be able to tolerate her. He did not worry that she would break his heart. At least in that he was safe.

  And as for Anna, he would treat her as a friend, a houseguest, and behave as her guardian. Once her memory returned, he would see that she was reunited with those who loved her. He would keep a closer watch on his heart’s ramparts lest the woman and her charms found a way inside. His heart had been battered enough, and he feared Anna was one who could wound it beyond repair.

  Chapter 9

  Anna was heartily ashamed of herself for the way she’d behaved to Lord Philip the day before. The outing had been perfect. She’d been fascinated with the stills and everything else about the plantation. She worried that she’d been annoying, asking so many questions. She’d wanted to see it all, to understand the workings of a place so extraordinary. But her frustration and despair over her lost memory had cast a pall over the day. After Lord Philip had been so attentive and had even purchased a horse for her to ride.

  She clenched her fists on the dressing table, looking into the mirror. If only she could remember. She touched the pendant at her throat. “Who are you, Anna?” she said aloud to the reflection.

  She sighed, arranging the hairbrush and other implements on the table before her. A flash of something familiar fluttered through her mind, so thin she couldn’t grasp it. She chased it, searching the deep corners where she should find memory, but it was gone. Anna looked at the dressing table again. The positions of the various items had sparked something. She must have a dressing table of her own. Somewhere. But where? She clenched her eyes shut and pushed again, probing through her mind, but found nothing.

  She felt as if something heavy had been put onto her shoulders; she shrugged to shake it off. It would not do to be melancholy. She’d already ruined her lovely day with Lord Philip by feeling sorry for herself. The wisp of memory had come when she wasn’t trying, and if that was the case, she would simply not think about it and perhaps another would appear.