Romney Marsh Trilogy: A Gentleman by Any Other Name / The Dangerous Debutante / Beware of Virtuous Women

By the time she caught up, he was standing at the fence, stroking the neck of a large bay horse that had stuck its head over the railing.

“Oh, he’s hurt,” she said, seeing the dried blood on the animal’s flank.

“Spence’s horse,” Ainsley said as if speaking to himself. “Damn.”

Julia had been forgotten, she knew, as she watched Ainsley take off again, this time his long strides leading him toward Becket Hall.

Suddenly she wanted the girls with her and all three of them back inside the safety of Becket Hall’s strong walls. She wanted to see Chance, be assured that he was all right.

“Girls!” she called out as she ran, knowing she was still too far away for them to hear her as the increasingly stiff breeze carried her words away. “Girls! Time to go back!”

Cassandra finally looked up, waved to her. “Julia! Come see what we’ve found!”

Julia stopped running, willing her heart rate to slow, and pinned a smile on her face as she neared the girls. Obviously they had been digging in the sand. “Sunken treasure, no doubt?”

Cassandra shook her head, shaking her hands in front of her, trying to rid herself of clumps of wet sand. “Everybody knows there’s no sunken treasure here. It’s only an old boot.” Cassandra’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “We think there’s still a foot in it, don’t we, Alice?”

“Julia?” Alice asked, hugging herself as she gave a delightful shiver. “Will you look for us?”

“I most certainly will do no such thing,” Julia told them, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of her pelisse and using it to wipe at Alice’s hands. “Callie is only teasing you, aren’t you, Callie?”

The girl shrugged. “Who knows? Who knows what goes on here in Romney Marsh?” she said, wiggling her sandy fingers at Alice, who gave a small squeak, then buried her head against Julia’s side.

“All of you Beckets are a handful, aren’t you?” Julia said, then felt her heart do a small flip in her chest as she looked toward the terrace to see Chance standing there, watching her.

Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

He stood with his legs apart, wearing long, heeled boots that covered his knees, his shirtsleeves billowing in the breeze and his hair blowing long and wild about his head. He’d worn London clothes comfortably, but dressed as he was now, the man looked…he looked free. More at his ease than she’d seen him before. Or was that proud stance that of any man who’d recently bedded himself a virgin?

And where had that salacious thought come from?

No, he had the look of a man who felt very much in charge of his own world. A man who had very possibly played at riding about the Marsh at midnight on some reckless adventure.

In any event and for whatever reason, the sophisticated, well-dressed gentleman she’d met in London was well and truly gone now, as if he’d never existed. Even at this distance she believed she could feel Chance’s strength, some new passion that had stirred his blood, raised his spirit.

Or perhaps this was an old passion come back to him….

Julia involuntarily lifted a hand to her left breast to press her fingers against the grosgrain ribbon hidden beneath her gown, then quickly turned the gesture into a nervous wave.

He raised a hand and waved to them, as well, and Alice waved back before breaking into a run, Cassandra following.

Julia began walking toward the house, ashamed to realize that she had every intention of using two young, innocent girls as the shields she would hide behind as she came face-to-face with—dear Lord—with her lover.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“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?