Читать книгу Romney Marsh Trilogy: A Gentleman by Any Other Name / The Dangerous Debutante / Beware of Virtuous Women - Kasey Michaels, Кейси Майклс, Kasey Michaels - Страница 17

“LOOK AT YOU LITTLE beggars. No bonnets, your cloaks full of grit. What were you two doing down there—rolling on the beach?” Chance teased as the girls skipped toward him across the terrace.

Alice giggled, and Chance took a moment to rub the top of his daughter’s head. Children were so forgiving, thank God.

“We found an old boot, Papa, and Callie thinks there’s still a foot in it,” Alice said, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. “But Julia wouldn’t peek for us.”

“Really?” Chance looked over the girls’ heads to wink at Julia as she walked toward him and he felt something punch him hard in the stomach. How her hair shone with the sun dancing in it. And the lady didn’t seem to worry about freckles on her fair skin or she actually liked the feel of a sea breeze ruffling her hair. Did she know how soft, how approachable she looked today? No, she couldn’t, or else that horrible bun would be back in full force.

“Julia was off talking with Papa,” Cassandra explained. “And then when she came back she said it was time to come inside. We’ve been outside barely at all, and I don’t think that’s fair. She should have looked in the boot. But I am hungry, so I suppose I’ll forgive her.”

Speaking with Ainsley? How interesting. “I would have supposed she would have hopped straight to investigating,” he said, still looking at Julia, who returned his look without blinking. “She’s usually a very curious lady is our Miss Carruthers.”

And probably is now, he believed—just not about old boots. “Go on now, you two. Cassandra, take Alice and run upstairs to Edyth. And take off those pattens before you go into the house, hear me,” he called after them, “or someone will be handing you both brooms and a strong sermon. We don’t make unnecessary work for others here at Becket Hall, remember?”

Julia had heard everything through the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears, and from somewhere in her brain came the words: We run a tight ship here.

But certainly not a very formal one. Ainsley Becket was in charge, along with Jacko. That much was clear to her. The Becket “children” could be the ship’s officers. And everyone else seemed to simply be part of the crew, all putting their hands to whatever needed doing.

There was such affection here and yet so much respect. A bond between everyone that she greatly admired yet didn’t completely understand, as if they were all parts of the same whole. Or shared in the same secret.

She watched the girls go, the two of them giggling and holding hands. She was going to smile to Chance Becket now and say good morning and pretend nothing had happened between them last night and that she wasn’t aware that what happened between them last night wasn’t all that had happened last night.

Then she opened her mouth and said precisely what she hadn’t planned to say. “You all went out last night to see if the haul was gone, didn’t you? Because the people who shot those boys also discovered where the goods were being stored, and you wanted to save what you could before they could round up a land party to take it all away.”

Chance looked at her, one eyebrow raised. He may as well have left the woman a detailed note telling her where he’d be off to and why after leaving her bed. “Was all of that a question or a statement?”

“Spencer’s horse is injured. I can’t be sure, but I think he was grazed by a bullet.”

“Spence’s horse? And how do you know it’s Spence’s horse?”

“I was walking with your—with Mr. Becket, and he mentioned it. He…he was upset.”

“Is that so? So you and Ainsley were out walking. Was it an interesting walk?”

“He took me to the village. I had no idea it was there. You’re all your own community.”

How much did she know? How much had she guessed? He carefully measured his next words. “There have been additions and deletions over the years, yes, but we remain fairly self-sufficient. At the moment we’re missing a carpenter.”

“Pike,” Julia said in all innocence, remembering the name Ainsley had told her, then quickly bit her lips together for a moment, as Chance was now looking at her curiously. What on earth had she said wrong this time? “Mr. Becket told me Pike was the ship’s carpenter who carved the mermaid that was once the figurehead on one of his ships. And I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, am I? Does your cheek hurt?”

He raised a hand to his cheek. Cold compresses had gotten rid of the worst of the swelling, but it was still tender to the touch. This woman missed nothing. “A lucky punch. The man didn’t get in another,” he said, then smiled. “And, since I know you’ll ask sooner or later, Spence is fine. Odette’s with him.”

“Then he was injured, as it was Odette who was put in charge of tending Dickie’s wound.”

“Right on both counts, congratulations. Spence’s wound is little more than a scratch. The boy believes he’s invulnerable. The scratch will only do him good.”

Julia hadn’t really spoken with Spencer Becket yet, but he had made an impression on her. He wasn’t as tall as Chance or Courtland, but he was…intense. Yes, that was the word. His eyes were dark, nearly black, below low, sweeping, dramatic brows. His black wavy hair had been cut to just below his nape and was wild, unruly, constantly falling onto his face, only to have him give his head a quick shake in order to be rid of it. Possibly an arrogant shake? Handsome, as were all the Beckets each in their own way, but with the look of dangerous passions only held in check by a strong will.

Julia looked at Chance, made a comment based on what Eleanor had told her. “Your brother is Spanish.”

Chance shrugged. “Probably, along with who knows what else mixed in. We’re mongrels, Julia, all of us, and rather proud of that fact. The problem with Spence is that, however he came by his blood, that blood often runs hot and his brain doesn’t always tag along on the journey. I was probably twelve or thirteen to his five when Ainsley brought him home, so I never paid him much attention, to be truthful. But he was wild when he came and he’s stayed wild.”

Julia could ask more questions, she supposed, but as she was so nervous she was barely listening to the answers, that didn’t seem fair. Had the raid been successful? Had they recovered their goods? Where was the haul now?

But those were silly questions and really should be none of her concern. She knew only that there had been a fight and both Chance and Spencer had been injured. The thought of Chance hurt, possibly dying? Why did that upset her so? Why did half of her want to pummel him for being so reckless, while the other half of her wanted only to hold him?

“I should go in now,” she said, backing up a step, but Chance put a hand on her arm.

“Not yet. I want to speak with you about what happened between us last night, Julia,” he said, his voice low, his deeply green eyes gone dark. “Please.”

“Why? What is there to say? You bedded a woman, then went riding out on the Marsh to do God knows what. And I…I must be insane.”

He’d hurt her. God, he’d hurt her. Damn him for the bastard he was. “I’m sorry, Julia.”

His apology brought her up short, and made her instantly furious with him. She’d been nervous? Why on earth had she been nervous? “Sorry? You’re sorry? Is that so, Mr. Chance Becket? Well, I’m not sorry. Now what do you have to say to that, Mr. Chance Becket?”

Chance was suddenly so off balance he was surprised he still stood upright. “You cried.”

“I also laughed. I also allowed what happened. Please don’t tell me you thought you’d…you’d—”

“Taken unfair advantage of you,” Chance said quickly, not really wanting to hear the word ravished— or worse—coming from Julia’s mouth.

She lifted her chin. “Because you did no such thing. I am perfectly well aware of what I did.”

But not why she did it. Chance mentally flinched as his conscience pushed out from under the rock he’d placed over it and shouted accusingly in his brain. Not that it had ended that way for him. But it had begun that way, and he should burn in Hades for that.

“So,” he said, measuring his words, “you and I both knew what we were doing last night and neither of us is sorry, although I could argue that I knew much more than you.”

Julia turned her back on him. “There’s no need to be crass.”

“No, there’s not. But there is another need, Julia. Marry me.”

Julia’s eyes went so wide she momentarily feared they’d pop out of her head and drop to the stone terrace, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing! Then she swallowed painfully and turned to face him once more. “I’d really rather not do that, thank you for asking.”

Chance stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Julia, it’s not as if we have a choice.”

“How very…flattering,” Julia said, looking up at him, her palms itching either to slap him or to run her fingers through his windswept hair. And slapping him was beginning to win out. “I still must decline the offer.”

“Julia, think, please. I brought you here. I’ve gotten you involved in something very dangerous. I’ve allowed my family to believe that we’re betrothed. All of this is damning enough, but now I’ve completely compromised you and I’m not even sure I understand why I did what I did.”

“My, what flattery. But I believe I understand the why of what you did—what we did,” Julia said, twisting her fingers together in front of her. “Keep the silly spinster busy spinning daydreams and she won’t be any trouble, won’t keep poking her nose into matters that don’t concern her. I must say, reflecting back on the thing, the idea had some merit.”

Chance couldn’t hold back a short closed-mouth cough, as Julia had hit so close to the mark, then decided to go on the offensive. “That’s insulting to both of us, Julia. You’re an attractive woman, a highly attractive woman. I may be ashamed of myself, of my behavior, but I am not sorry I came to your chamber last night. I think we could have a good life together. You seem fond of Alice, for one thing, and you even appear to enjoy my family. I’ve thought about this, Julia. I’ve been thinking about you all morning.”

“Yes, after leaving me last night, already knowing you could be riding off willy-nilly to get yourself captured or killed.”

“So much for your opinion of my abilities, thank you. And as I recall the thing, you asked me not to speak. You asked me to leave.”

“Do you always listen to silly women?”

“Julia, we’re going round and round again.”

“And backward. Please don’t forget backward. I’d better enjoy arguing with you, Chance, if we could also sometimes move forward.”

“We are moving forward, damn it. Marriage is the only answer.”

Julia stood very still. She was a romantic fool, that was obvious to her now. And she was destined to end her days caring for someone else’s children or possibly raising cats. “Why did you marry Alice’s mother? Was it for love?”

It was time to be honest, Chance knew, more than time. “No, Julia. Ours was a marriage of mutual convenience. I’m ashamed now to say that, no, I did not love Beatrice, and she did not love me.”

“Mutual convenience, was it? Much like the marriage you speak of for the two of us, I would suppose. And with the unspoken knowledge that affection for each other has nothing to do with that union. No, don’t talk to me of marriage, Chance, for I am foolish enough to want more or nothing,” Julia said, believing she’d lingered long enough, revealed more than enough. Besides, she may have won this time…or lost, very badly. She turned and headed for one of the many sets of French doors that led into the mansion, willing herself not to break into a run.

This time Chance was wise enough not to try to keep her at his side. Better he should walk down to the shoreline, then keep walking into the water until it was over his head. When had he last been this stupid, behaved so badly? What was it about Julia Carruthers that tied his tongue in knots and had his brains scurry off on holiday—leaving him bereft of allies in this battle of wits and wills…and desires. God yes, desires. He believed he could still feel the smooth texture of Julia’s skin against his hands.

Did he really want to marry her?

He could think of worse fates….

At the sound of one pair of hands slowly clapping in a sort of mocking applause, he turned to see Courtland ascend the last few steps of the west staircase and begin walking across the terrace toward him.

“Bravo! Bravo, Chance. Oh, yes, I heard. I stayed out of sight on the steps, but then I listened to every word, just like Jacko would do, our friend who has never lost his love for putting his ear against keyholes. I can see you have our Miss Carruthers tightly wrapped around your little finger, brother, just as you said you would. You know, I should head up to London, get me a bit of that fine town bronze you wear so elegantly.”

“Shut up, Court,” Chance said, walking over to lean his forearms on the stone balustrade and look out to sea. “I’m already painfully aware I’ve bollixed things. Curse the woman. I don’t know if I should send her packing or take her back to bed. Someday perhaps someone will be able to explain women to us clumsy males.”

Courtland joined his brother, also leaning his forearms on the balustrade, the tension between them for the first time in a long time not in evidence. “If someone does, they can begin those explanations with Morgan, then go on to Fanny and Cassandra.”

“Not Eleanor?”

“Elly is a lady, thank God. She sings, she paints, she plays both the harp and the piano Ainsley provided for her. She doesn’t sneak out to ride with the Ghost, like Morgan—you were right about that, by the way. And damn me if she isn’t proud of the fact.”

“Did you lock her in her rooms and threaten to limit her diet to stale bread and ditch water?”

“You don’t threaten Morgan, Chance. She’s too headstrong for that and would only do the opposite of what I’ve told her, even if she didn’t want to, just to prove she is in charge of herself. Odette’s asked for an increase of her budget for candles, she lights so many candles to chase Morgan’s mischievous loas away.”

Chance grinned. “You have your hands full here, don’t you? So that’s Morgan. What about Fanny and Cassandra?”

Courtland shook his head. “Must we? Oh, very well. Fanny insists she can do anything Rian can do, better, and sometimes she’s right. She’s nearly as bad as Morgan, as a matter of fact, and Rian encourages her. And Cassandra? That child can plague a man straight out of his head, dancing around after him like some curious, adoring puppy. Thank GodAlice is here now to occupy her.”

Chance smiled at his brother. “Maybe you should think about escaping to London. But you enjoy it, don’t you? Riding herd on everyone else, that is, playing at mother hen. Yet perhaps not enough to keep you completely happy or else you wouldn’t be gallivanting about the country in that ridiculous cape long after you’d avenged Pike’s murder.”

Courtland chuckled ruefully and then both men were silent, watching the French ship finally pass out of sight, heading toward Dover Castle but still safely out of the range of English guns.

“Now that we’re talking without shouting at each other, I hesitate to say this. But Ainsley’s definitely coming awake,” Courtland said at last. “I was in Spence’s bedchamber a little while ago, when Ainsley came bursting in to ring a peal over the boy’s head. A beautiful thing to hear. No one could ever chew up one side of you and down the other like Ainsley, all without raising his voice. And for once Spence was smart enough to keep his own mouth shut.”

Chance felt his spine stiffen. “Thirteen years, Court. It’s been thirteen years. About damn time he woke up.”

“True. You, too.”

Chance pushed back from the railing. “And what does that mean, brother mine?”

Courtland remained where he was, still looking out to sea. “So much for the flag of truce between us. You know damn well what that means. How can he ever forgive himself when his oldest son won’t forgive him? You were closer to him than anyone, Chance, and the first to abandon him.”

The words hurt, cut deep, and Chance was stung into defending himself. “Do you know how many bodies we slipped into the sea when we reached deep water? Picking up those bodies, laying them in tarps, sometimes a piece at a time? He sent you on board with the younger ones. You didn’t have to be there with the men when they found their women raped and—”

“I was there when it happened, Chance. I saw more than enough before escaping to the interior and saw what was left when we came back,” Courtland said flatly, at last pushing himself away from the balustrade to face his brother. “You seem to forget that. You seem to forget everything except your own anger and pain.”

“You’re right, Court, and I apologize. That was stupid of me. But Ainsley never shed a tear for Isabella,” Chance said, a tic beginning to work in his cheek as, at last, he’d said what he thought, what had haunted him for so long. “Yes, he was the captain, and yes, he had to take control, which wasn’t easy. But not one tear, Court. Not one. No revenge, either. Just his mighty plan to have us all disappear, start over, hide himself here like a coward. Turn us all into cowards along with him.”

“Ainsley had no choice but to bring us here, Chance, and everyone agreed to the plan except you. As for Isabella? Oh, hell, do us all a favor, Chance. Go talk to Jacko.”

“Why would I do that?” Chance’s heart was pounding now, and he didn’t know why.

Courtland sighed. “Because he and I are the only ones that know—and no one is aware that I know—that I followed them that first night. Ainsley and Jacko.”

“Followed them? Followed them where?”

Courtland put up his hands as if to say no more. “Go on. Talk to Jacko. It’s not my story to tell.”

“Where is he?”

“I would imagine he’s where he is every day. Over in the village, drinking his way through the Last Voyage.”

“I’ve never cared for that name,” Chance said, looking toward the stables and the village beyond. The village, the encampment, the refuge…the hidey-hole. “Better to call it The Retreat.”

“I know. We all know what your feelings are. But we were decimated, Chance, and we had to think of the women, the girls. Do you think he’s dead?”

Chance didn’t bother pretending he didn’t understand his brother’s question. “Edmund? If we believe the rumors, yes. Murdered by his own drunken men not a week later. I don’t know if I want him dead or alive so I can kill him.”

“I’ve always wondered, Chance—why didn’t you listen to the men who wanted to take the Gray Ghost that same day, hunt him down? You, Billy and the rest. I know you were only seventeen, but they would have followed you. Christ, man. You’d been all but raised on the Black Ghost, Ainsley teaching you everything he knew, every trick, every ploy. He even stepped back and let you take down the Marguerite on your own. Jacko brought you one of the town whores to celebrate, remember? Isabella was furious with him.”

“I’d rather forget all of that, especially the woman. But you already said it, Court. We had to protect the women. And half the men had lost their hearts and wanted nothing more than to die themselves. That’s no way to go into battle with an enemy that outnumbers you in both ships and men. I knew we had to wait at least a few days until the ships were repaired and we could take after Edmund, but by then we were on our way to England. No, when I left the sea, I left that life behind me.”

“And set out to educate yourself, make yourself a gentleman, a loyal subject of the Crown,” Court said, nodding. “You know what, Chance? I don’t think it worked. Not even after Billy took those so very damning letters from your luggage and brought them to Ainsley. The papers are tucked back into your luggage, safe and sound, and so very official-looking.”

“Christ,” Chance said, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand. “I should have known. Billy’s first loyalty will always be to Ainsley.” He looked at Court. “So? Is everyone now questioning my loyalty?”

“Jacko took some convincing, but no, we’re none of us too concerned. Not now that you know you’d be turning in your own family. That must have been a shock to you.”

Chance smiled ruefully at this obvious understatement. “I think you can safely say that. But you do know I’ll have to make an appearance at every Revenue Office and such from here to Dover Castle, at the very least. I don’t know how the boys are going to like that.”

“Taken care of,” Courtland told him. “By Ainsley, through Jacko. I’ll have you know that you’re using your position in the War Office to make discreet inquiries into any information the Preventative Waterguard might have about the Red Men Gang.”

“So that the Black Ghost can find and destroy them.” Chance smiled, shook his head. “You’re right. Ainsley is waking up. Since nobody but those here at Becket Hall even know me, I should be safe enough. And I’ll take Billy along, as well. While I act in my official capacity, he can visit the pubs with both ears open. Nobody ever notices Billy. Which also means we’ll travel by boat, since Billy doesn’t ride and he’s never really mastered the coach.”

“That sounds reasonable. Tell me something, Chance. If we hadn’t been involved or if you hadn’t found out—would you have complied with your orders?”

“I’m only to put the fear of God and king into the local officers, Court, not become a part of the troops, either on land or in one of the Revenue cutters. And believe me, none of it was my idea. I’d asked for leave only to bring Alice to Becket Hall.”

“That must have been a difficult decision. Coming back, I mean.”

“Not once I got here,” Chance said, turning to look out over the Channel, then slowly turn back toward the mansion. “It’s time I put my demons to rest, Court. Tell me about Ainsley, about what you saw. Jacko might feel honor-bound to tell Ainsley I asked. I don’t want to be the cause of opening wounds that have finally begun to heal.”

Court also looked up at Becket Hall. “Let’s walk,” he said, and the two men headed down the stone staircase, taking a path that would lead them around to the front of the building, then said abruptly, “Isabella wasn’t buried with the rest.”

Chance stopped on the bottom step, looked at his brother. “But…but I saw the tarp go into the water. Ainsley said a prayer over it. I don’t understand.”

“I know. Let’s keep walking. I was in the house late that first night, gathering up what I could find of Cassandra’s clothing, when I heard Ainsley and Jacko climbing the stairs. I don’t know why I did it, but I hid from them and only could see Ainsley carry Isabella’s body into their bedchamber, then Jacko standing in front of the closed door and looking about as fierce as I’ve ever seen him. I knew that it was too late to show myself. I honestly thought Jacko could have wrung my neck if he’d seen me.”

“What was Ainsley doing behind that door?”

Court bent down and picked up a stone, then threw it into the distance. “Preparing her for burial. Dressing her in that gown she’s wearing in the portrait in the main salon. When he carried her out, I could have sworn she was alive again. He’d washed her, dressed her hair. She was even wearing her dancing shoes. I had to clap my hands over my mouth to keep from calling out to her. If it hadn’t been for the way her head was so…so loose on her neck…”

Chance put a hand to his own mouth, mumbled, “My God. Where did he take her?”

“I watched from the veranda as he and Jacko disappeared into the trees, then followed them. I had to, because now Jacko was carrying a shovel and a bundle of sailcloth.”

“He buried her on the island,” Chance said, “then pretended to bury her at sea with the others. Why?”

Courtland shrugged. “He needed to mourn her, I think now. Back then all I knew was that I was eavesdropping on something very private, something I shouldn’t have witnessed. He sat beside her after he laid her in the middle of the sail, stroking her hair, laying his head on her chest, holding her hand. I’ve never heard such weeping as that, before or since. He kept saying that he was sorry, so sorry. He begged God to give her back to him. He cursed God. He howled, Chance, until I thought he’d never stop.”

He took a breath, let it out slowly. “And then they buried her, and he went back to take charge again. Pull us all together, oversee repairs to the ships, get us out of there because we were all too vulnerable to another attack.”

Chance bent his head, rubbed at the back of his neck, willed the tears not to fall. “I…I thought he’d turned coward. Worried only about getting away, hiding. First listening to Edmund and then leaving the sea, bottling himself up here. And I judged him, deserted him. What a miserable piece of work I am.”

Court clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a proud man, Chance. If you went running, it wasn’t just from Ainsley and our lives on the island. I don’t want to get all maudlin on you, but I think you were running from you, as well. Running from the wharf rat. You wanted to be more than you believed you were. We all want more than we are. Can’t fault a man for that.”

“Why did I always think you were such a nuisance?” Chance asked, finally smiling at his brother. “You may be the bravest and smartest of us all. Although I’m not quite sure I like that beard.”

“Cassandra hates it,” Courtland said, rubbing at his chin. “I may keep it forever.”

The terrible tension broken, the brothers laughed as they stood on the drive in front of Becket Hall, very much in charity with each other, which was a novelty in itself, and turned as one when they heard riders approaching.

“My, we are having a busy morning, aren’t we?” Courtland said, crossing his arms in front of him. “That would be Lieutenant Diamond and a half dozen of his dragoons coming to visit. We think he’s sweet on Morgan, God help him.”

“And Morgan?”

“Who knows about Morgan and anything. To be truthful, I think she’s practicing on him. Her feminine wiles, that is.”

“Poor fellow,” Chance said, watching as the lieutenant dismounted. “Are you sure Morgan is all he’s interested in at Becket Hall?”

“We don’t know. But now that you’re here, with those impressive letters with all their official seals, I should imagine any doubts he may harbor about us will be settled. You’re really coming in handy, brother, so very glad you could come.”

Chance grinned. “Anything I can do to help the family. We sail together or sink alone. Shall I be pompous and important, do you think? Have the man wetting his pants?”

“I might enjoy watching that, yes, as long as he does it outside.” Court swept an arm in front of his brother as if inviting him to pass ahead of him. “Shall we?”