A Gentleman By Any Other Name (28 page)

I
F IT WEREN'T THAT HER
clothing was still in her bedchamber and that everyone he'd questioned had denied helping her escape—no, not escape; she didn't need to escape, did she?—Chance's panic would have been even worse.

As it was, he was unnerved enough to chase Julia down when he at last spied her on the beach stretching away from Becket Hall and the village, grabbing her shoulders to rudely stop her, turn her around to face him. “Where in blue blazes have you been all day, woman? Do you have any idea the worry you've put me—Julia?”

She was looking at him rather blankly. Dreamingly. Her cheeks were wet with tears, yet she was smiling.

She scared the living hell out of him.

“She named her Julia,” she told him, sighing. “Odette isn't always right. But, oh, she is remarkable.” She blinked rapidly. “I'm tired. I think I'm going to sit down now.”

And she did, much to Chance's dismay, right there on the damp sand, still smiling and sniffling.

He went down onto his haunches to look at her more closely. There was something on the front of her gown.

Something wet. He touched it. Wet and sticky. Blood? “Are you hurt? Julia, for the love of Christ, look at me. Are you hurt?”

“Hurt?” Julia laughed at this foolishness. How could she be hurt? She felt
wonderful.
Awed. Blessed. “No, I'm not hurt,” she said, finally realizing that she was acting strangely. But then, how many times did a person have the opportunity to take part in a miracle?

“You're not hurt,” Chance said soothingly, pulling her to her feet. “All right, Julia. I'm glad you're not hurt, really. So now let's the two of us head back to Becket Hall and you can have a nice hot bath and—”

“Oh, Chance, stop coddling me as if I'm two steps away from Bedlam,” Julia said, dancing away from him, her arms wide. “I'm fine. I'm glorious! And she named her Julia. I washed her. I
held
her.”

Drinking? No, not Julia. Then what in hell was wrong with her? What was she saying? Chance tried to sift through everything she'd said since he'd found her. Odette's name had been in there somewhere. Had Odette done something to her? Miserable, meddling woman!

“Julia. Julia, stop spinning around like that,” Chance ordered. “Julia, listen to me. Did…did Odette give you anything?”

Julia stopped dancing and looked at Chance again. He looked so concerned.
Poor foolish man.
“And a good thing she did, I think, or I may have fainted myself. Wait!” she added quickly, as Chance looked ready to commit mayhem. “It's not like that. I helped Odette bring a baby into the world today, Chance, and she's the most
beautiful
baby in the entire world and her mama is going to be just fine and her papa is passed out drunk and doesn't even know he's papa to this perfect little baby.” She sighed. “Baby Julia.”

She walked toward him, her eyes shining. “You really should take Odette's powers more seriously, Chance. She's a true wonder. She will be there for me for all of my babies, she promised.” Julia giggled. “But I don't think I want her to spit on her hands.”

Chance reconsidered his earlier conclusion. Julia
was
drunk—drunk with excitement. Her green eyes were shining, her wide smile nearly beatific. He'd never seen her look quite so beautiful. He gently stroked her warm, windblown blond hair, smiled at the new sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks. “You plan to have a lot of babies, sweetings?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I see,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her back along the beach, toward Becket Hall. “If I can be of any assistance in the matter?”

Julia sobered immediately. “That…that wasn't what I was saying. Suggesting.” She shook her head to clear it, looked up to see that the sun had traveled quite a distance since she'd last noticed it. “What time is it?”

“Nearly six.”

“Six! I've been gone forever,” Julia said, pulling him along with her as she walked faster. “Alice will be wondering where I am.”

“We've all been wondering where you were,” Chance informed her.

“But Fanny knew. Fanny sent me to Odette.”

“Really. I never learned the purpose of sisters. But I imagine she was enjoying watching me run around like a fool. I'll have a few choice words for that girl later. Julia, stop a moment. I have something important to tell you.”

He also had much to do, but all of that had been pushed to one side when he'd realized that he couldn't go out on the
Respite
tonight without seeing Julia, talking to her.

“Can't it wait until later?” she asked, for she was nervous now that her euphoria was fading. She had been avoiding this man for several days, and now here they were, alone together on the beach, and he wanted to talk to her. “Really, Chance. I'm a sorry mess. I'm famished and I need a bath.”

“We're heading out tonight, Julia, to face down the Red Men Gang in one great contest to decide who rules the shores of Romney Marsh. There. I've said it. Now will you stop?”

Julia shook her head again, sure she had misunderstood. But, no, she hadn't. He was looking entirely too serious. “You…you're—no! You can't do that!”

“You'll worry about me?” Chance asked, knowing he should be ashamed of how good it made him feel to see the sudden panic in her eyes.

“I couldn't care a snap about you, Chance Becket,” Julia lied with desperate heat. “But what about Alice? Is she to remember her papa as the traitorous freebooter who was hanged in chains at Dover Castle for his crimes? And what about Elly? Fanny? Morgan and Callie? Baby Julia, all the women and children? What happens to them when you men bring Lieutenant Diamond down on Becket Hall? And…and what if you
lose?
Will these Red Men come here?”

Chance rubbed at the side of his head, hiding his expression as a painful mental flash of what they'd found on the beach all those years ago when the Black Ghost had come back from her last foray stabbed his mind.

“Well, thank you for that, Julia. Your confidence in our expectations for success and our ability to take care of our women and children is just what I need to send me on my way full of hope for my mission.”

Julia knew she'd hurt him, hurt his manly pride, probably. But she wasn't going to apologize. “Your mission, is it? Your mission, as I recall the thing, is to serve your country, not…not break the king's laws.”

“That mission, Julia, was abandoned the moment you talked me into bringing those boys to Becket Hall. I'm a part of this now.”

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. “So now it's
my
fault?”

“No, no, damn it, I didn't mean it that way. That was coincidence. Besides, if anything, finding that dead boy opened my eyes.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair that, like Julia's, was blowing free in the wind coming in off the Channel. “But you're still the most confounding woman.”

“And you're a liar. I know why you're doing this.” Julia's fear for him was overcoming her common sense and most definitely her control of her tongue. And as for womanly pride? When it came to this man, she had none.

He had to listen to her, he just had to! “You're risking your life because your family is a part of this. I've realized that I don't care about your past anymore, it's not important. You
escaped,
Chance. You went to London, you built your life there. Don't you see? You're not like them anymore. We can go. We can go now. Take Alice. Take all the girls. You've done enough. Please, Chance!”

Chance narrowed his eyelids as he looked at her. “You really mean that? You really think I'd abandon my family?”

“You did once—oh! Oh, Chance, forgive me,” Julia said, horrified at what she'd said, knowing she'd gone too far, that her fears for him had taken her past the point of reason. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that.”

“Which doesn't make what you said untrue, unfortunately. But not again, Julia, whether or not you understand why. Not ever again. Not for Alice, not for you. Not if I'm to be able to live with myself, live with you, live for anyone or anything ever again.”

“I love you,” Julia said quietly, because there was nothing else to say.

At her words, Chance pulled back from the brink but refused to waver. “Do you, Julia? Do you now? And I suppose that's what I most wanted to hear, fool that I am, tardy as those words are.”

He then turned, left her where she stood, and she didn't immediately follow after him. She needed to collect herself, marshal her emotions, time to convince herself it didn't matter that he hadn't said he loved her, too.

Which was wise, because Chance was looking for a fight, someone or something to punch, punish, destroy.

And he found that someone when he climbed back up the steps to the terrace, where Courtland was waiting for him, his arms akimbo, a scowl on his bearded face and unknowingly just about to say exactly the wrong thing.

“I saw you two on the beach. Did you really think you had time to sneak off and diddle your woman? Ainsley says you're in charge, and this is how you take charge? We've got important things to do.”

Chance's fist connected with Courtland's jaw even before he realized that he'd moved, and his brother went down hard on the stones, to be quickly followed by Chance himself, the two locked together and rolling around the terrace, intent on destroying each other.

Julia saw the punch from her place on the beach, saw Courtland go down, then realized Chance had disappeared below the thick stone balustrades, as well. She hiked up her skirts and broke into a run, stumbling twice as she crossed the uneven shore, then ran up the steps, calling out, “Stop it! Stop that at once!”

“Let them go, my dear.”

She whirled about to see Ainsley Becket standing just outside one of the pairs of French doors, leaning lightly on a cane, his foot and ankle still heavily bandaged.

“But…but they're killing each other!”

“Oh, not quite that terrible, I'm sure,” Ainsley said, watching the two men roll about on the stones, hitting, kicking, cursing. “I've been waiting for this from the moment Chance came home.”

“You've been—but that's ridiculous. They're brothers!”

“They were—and they will be again once this hurdle has been cleared. Besides, I've already asked Billy to bring us a pail of water.”

Julia looked toward Courtland and Chance once more, then back to Ainsley, who was smiling. “Oh, well, in that case,” she said, joining him, “I suppose it's all right.”

Ainsley laughed. “And you a vicar's daughter.”

“Not an ordinary vicar, sir.”

“And not an ordinary daughter. Have you and Chance settled things between you now?”

Julia winced as Courtland managed to roll on top and began pummeling Chance around the shoulders and head. “Will Billy be coming soon? But, no, Chance and I haven't…we aren't…that is…”

Ainsley leaned more heavily on the head of his cane. “I know what he's done, child, all of it, from its not-very-laudable beginning. If you demand marriage, I'll see to it.”

“I
don't
demand marriage.”

“Spoken much too quickly and vehemently to be believed. He loves you, you know.”

“Really,” Julia said, her tone bitter. “And I suppose, just to prove himself worthy of me, he's about to get himself killed.” She turned when Billy appeared, to take the heavy wooden bucket from him, nearly staggering under its weight. “If you'll both excuse me?”

“With pleasure,” Ainsley said. “Just be mindful of thrashing limbs.”

Julia approached carefully, secretly pleased to see that Chance had regained the upper hand, then poured the contents of the bucket over both their heads before flinging the bucket to the stones. “I'm only sorry it wasn't enough to drown the pair of you! Now get up!”

Chance had already leapt to his feet, for the water had mostly hit him and it was damn cold. He shook himself all over, like a dog after a plunge in a pond, then pushed his sopping-wet hair back from his face. “What in hell do you think you're doing, woman?”

“Thoroughly enjoying myself,” Julia said from between clenched teeth. “Court—get up. And the two of you shake hands.”

“The devil I will,” Courtland said, still sitting on the stones, wiping his hands over his face as he blinked away the water. “Can't you even control
her,
brother?”

Chance grinned. God, but he felt better. Except for his left cheek and eye that he was fairly certain would be sporting a mass of bruises by tomorrow. “Apparently not,” he said, looking at Julia. “I think those may be real sparks shooting out of your eyes, sweetings.”

“Just a moment,” Courtland said, getting to his feet, nearly losing his footing on the wet stones. “We're not done here.”