Ransome's Honor (16 page)

“Aye, I’m coming.”

“Good. Ah, Dawling.” Collin swung the door open wide so Dawling could enter past him. “Mrs. Yates asked me to remind you to sponge Captain Ransome’s formal black for this evening.”

“This evening?” William shared a frown with Dawling and both turned toward Collin.

“Dinner. She has invited a few people.” He cuffed William’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

He pushed Julia’s image from his mind, annoyed that every time he thought of marriage, her dancing green eyes and dimples came into sharp focus. He would not let his attraction to her coerce him into making a decision they might both regret later.

Chapter Fifteen

J
ulia worked on the knotted ribbon at her throat as she climbed the stairs. Nancy took over when Julia got to her room, and then she took Julia’s hat and spencer. When Nancy turned toward the wardrobe, her mouth dropped open as if she’d just seen a mouse run across the room.

“Leave us.”

Julia spun around at her aunt’s sharp voice.

Nancy dropped the bonnet and jacket on the end of the bed, curtsied, and scurried out the door.

“Aunt Augusta?” Julia’s thoughts whirled, but she masked all emotion. “Is anything wrong?”

“Is anything wrong?” Augusta repeated, closing the door. “Did you think I would not hear of your behavior? Do you know from whom I heard it? Lady Fairfax called on me and told me of the scene you caused this morning in the paper shop.”

Never before had she seen her aunt truly angry. “
I
caused a scene?” She moved behind her desk and set her reticule atop it. “If the baroness is your only source of the information, I should not wonder at its inaccuracy.”

Augusta’s indignation faltered. “So you deny, then, that you made a spectacle of yourself and my son this morning?”

“I did not purpose to create a spectacle, no.”

The umbrage that had faded flamed back to life. “What do you mean? Was there an argument between the two of you during which you involved that sailor or not?”

“Again, I did not set out to involve anyone in anything, ma‘am.” Julia narrowed her eyes. “I was going about my own business—and yours—this morning when Sir Drake approached me and took... took something that belonged to me.” Her gaze dropped to her reticule on the desk, then snapped back up to her aunt. “All I did was ask him to return it. He declined and told me he would do so only if I allowed him to escort me to my next stop. I agreed; and at the stationer’s, I once again asked for the return of...my item. He refused. I was about to ask again when Captain Ransome—who happened to be in the shop—intervened on my behalf, as any other gentleman would have done.”

Julia’s emphasis on the word
gentleman
, especially in use to describe William, seemed to make Augusta’s blood boil. “How could you expose Drake, your own cousin, to the derision of not just that man—a common sailor—but everyone else in Portsmouth? And you dare use the word
gentleman
when referring to a sailor?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“A true gentleman would know when to keep to his own business and not interfere with the flirtations of another man. I do hope you apologized to Sir Drake.”

Shock numbed Julia’s body. “Apologize? I have done nothing for which I am sorry.”

“Nothing?” Aunt Augusta’s voice rose in pitch and volume. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Lady Fairfax said that my son was so offended he called the captain out. Pistols at noon on Ports-down Hill.”

All strength left Julia, and she sank into the desk chair. “Duel? I cannot believe it. There were no heated words between them.” She gained her feet and crossed to the window, her palms pressed to her cheeks. They had left in opposite directions, and no other words were spoken between them. Had they met again afterward? Why would they duel over so minor an incident?

Julia hurried to the bed and snatched up her hat. “I must call on Susan immediately to see what she has heard.”

“I insist you do no such thing.” Augusta crossed her arms and guarded the closed door. “Whether or not they dueled is something we will learn from my son in due course. But this incident has shown me that you have been suffered to run wild since you arrived here to your own detriment. This is not Jamaica, where you may do as you please, miss.”

“I beg you pardon?” Julia stared, disbelieving, at her aunt.

“Yes, you may well begin by begging my pardon. I have been given the task of ensuring your place in society, a task I am going to begin to take much more seriously. You will call upon whom I deem fit. You will accept callers only if I am here to decide if the person is worthy to be received. You will drop the acquaintance of anyone not of our rank in society—especially those Yates people. From now on, all errands in town will be seen to by one of the household staff You will behave as a proper English lady. My son wishes to court you, and I have given my consent.”

Julia stood still a moment, mouth slightly agape in stunned disbelief. “Not call—ma’am, you cannot be serious!”

Augusta squared her shoulders. “I am deadly serious. You seem to have forgotten that you are not yet married, therefore you are still under your elders’ authority. In the absence of your father, that responsibility falls to me.”

Julia gave a bitter laugh. “My thirtieth birthday is in five weeks—at which time, I plan to purchase passage and return to Jamaica.”

“I find it unlikely that will happen. Until your father’s return, you must obey any rule I see fit to impose upon you. And I will know whether or not you have obeyed me.”

Who did Augusta Pembroke think she was, telling Julia whom she could see and what she could do? Julia’s spirit warred with her deeply held belief that her elders deserved to be honored and obeyed. Well, her aunt may be her elder, but she was not her parent. “Very well then. For the next five weeks, I will abide by your rules.”

Augusta’s face took on a triumphant gleam. “You will find that it will not be as bad as you think—in fact, I believe you will find the company of better society much more to your liking. Now, let us put this little incident behind us. I shall expect you for dinner at six o’clock.”

Julia stared at the door long after her aunt left the room. Weakness spread from her chest out to her limbs, and she sank onto the rug, hugging her knees. The sickly sweetness in her aunt’s voice as she’d departed left Julia feeling cold despite the heat of the summer’s day.

No calls...accept Sir Drake’s suit...

Though Augusta had feigned friendliness there at the end, the seriousness of her tone could not be denied. Julia was not certain exactly how her aunt intended to see this punishment enacted but had no doubt she would see it done. If only her father had not gone today—if only the call from the lordships of the Admiralty had come a month hence.

In five weeks, Julia would have access to her inheritance—not that she needed it in addition to the sum she’d put by from her monthly allowance. She would purchase passage home and put all this behind her.

Lady Pembroke’s words rang in her head. Her aunt plotted something. But nothing she could do in five weeks could not be undone immediately thereafter with Sir Edward’s help.

She had to get word to Susan. The next weeks would go easier if Julia seemed to capitulate to her aunt’s demands, but she did not want her friends to think ill of her for ignoring them. Five weeks was not forever. Then Julia would make good on her promise to herself and go home.

The drawer where she kept her stationery was empty. Where—oh, yes, she’d left her writing case in the study. She pressed her ear to her door. When she heard nothing, she ventured out and let out a relieved breath. No sign of her aunt. She would write Susan and—

She stopped halfway down the stairs. What if her aunt had the idea to monitor her mail? Which of the household staff could Julia bring into her confidence? She must have some way of communicating with the outside world while under house arrest.

She reached the study—odd, but she did not recall the door being closed earlier. No sooner did she touch the knob, but the door swung open.

Julia gasped.

Augusta gasped.

Suspicion made the hair on the back of Julia’s neck tingle. “What are you doing in my father’s library?”

Color flooded back into her aunt’s face. She held up a slim volume of poetry. “Just borrowing a book.”

“Oh.” Julia stepped out of her way. As soon as her aunt disappeared into the sitting room, Julia entered the library and closed the door. She looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of place—except...had she pushed her father’s chair out of the way this morning?

She went around the desk to investigate. The cabinet door—she knew she’d closed it completely when she took the money out this morning.

Heart thudding against her ribs, she dropped to her knees and threw open the cupboard. The strongbox was still there, though shoved in lengthwise, which had kept the door from closing all the way. If her aunt knew about the box—

Julia jumped up and ran across the room, stopped, retrieved a handful of stationery, and returned to her room in haste. If her aunt knew about the chest, she might suspect that Sir Edward had given Julia the key.

Her reticule still sat where she’d dropped it on her desk. She picked it up and shook all the contents out onto the blotter. The key hit the desktop with a thunk. Her heart slowed to a more normal pace.

From the jewel box atop her dresser, she retrieved a long gold necklace—a gift from Michael upon their fifteenth birthday. Taking the brass key in hand, she threaded the chain through the filigree. She secured the clasp behind her neck and dropped the key inside the front of her dress. That would do for now, but she needed a more secure way to hide the chest. Julia hoped her aunt would not stoop to stealing, but she would not put it past Sir Drake.

She would send it to Susan. But until Creighton returned tomorrow, she couldn’t do anything.

A thick envelope on the desk caught her eye. The letters from Tierra Dulce. Though aching with the need to do something—anything—she forced herself to settle down on the window seat and read the missives: Jeremiah’s full of reports about the crops and income, and Jerusha’s brimming with news about the families on and around Tierra Dulce.

She let the pages fall to her lap and stared out toward the horizon. Why had she agreed to come to England?

After a night filled with strange and disturbing dreams, Julia rose feeling unrested and stiff Nancy offered a hot bath or cold compresses. Julia declined, but she did allow the maid to brush the snarls from her hair and secure it in a long plait.

“Nancy, how long has it been since you have seen your family?”

The maid’s eyes glowed. “I see them on Sunday every week. Just after you leave for the grand fancy church, my brother comes in the wagon—to the back of course, miss—to fetch me home. The service in our parish starts late so as all the farmers can finish their morning’s work before they come.”

“How would you like to go to them a day early?”

“Miss?” Nancy’s hands stilled from braiding.

“I have no engagements today, and I am perfectly capable of dressing myself for church tomorrow—although I shall have to settle for a simple hairstyle.”

“I—but miss, how—?”

“Elton will drive you. Do you not think it shall be great fun to surprise your family with not only an early arrival, but arriving in the admiral’s barouche driven by so handsome a young man as Elton?”

Nancy’s hazel eyes sparkled, making her look closer to her real age of five-and-twenty than her work-worn countenance usually conveyed. “Yes, miss! When?”

“Send Creighton to me, and we shall arrange it.”

Nancy tied off Julia’s braid and rushed from the room, not even pausing for one of her unnecessary curtsies. Julia took the note she’d composed to Susan last night from her desk. Elton fancied one of the Yateses’ kitchen maids. If Creighton thought Elton completely trustworthy, Julia might be able to maintain a line of communication with her friend after all.

Creighton knocked lightly and entered at Julia’s summons. “You asked to see me, miss?”

She pinned her father’s former steward with her most direct gaze. “Creighton, I need to know that I can place my full trust and confidence in you.”

Consternation tinged with offense flooded his face. “Of course, miss.”

“I do not mean to question your integrity. I need to make certain that, should I entrust secrets to you, Lady Pembroke will not learn of them.”

He made no immediate answer, but still seemed slightly offended by her words.

“It is not mutiny of which I speak,” she teased, although levity was far from her mind. “Consider it reconnaissance or espionage.” She took a deep breath, knowing what she risked for both of them. “Lady Pembroke has forbidden me from communicating with anyone she deems unworthy, including my friend, Mrs. Yates, and anyone else connected to the Royal Navy.”

Although Julia would never have considered writing a letter to any man other than her father, the Tierra Dulce steward, or Jeremiah, the implied censure of naval officers would insult Creighton’s pride.

Creighton’s shoulders squared more, if possible. “I believe Elton is friendly with a maid in the Yateses’ employ, miss. I am certain he would be willing to carry messages for you.”

“And he has your full trust?”

“Aye. He is loyal to the admiral and thus to you, miss.”

Julia tried to imagine what her aunt might do to gain information. “He would not be tempted by the offer of money in exchange for secrets?”

Disgust darkened Creighton’s features. “He knows the Articles of War as well as I, miss. He would never turn traitor.”

Julia allowed a touch of amusement at Creighton’s vehemence to crack through her worry “We are not at sea. The Articles do not apply.”