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

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      “Amusing?” Chance smiled as he began walking toward her and she, wonderfully brave or helpfully inquisitive, stood very still and watched him. “Is that what you call what happened between us this morning, Julia? Amusing? I think I’m insulted.”

      “Really?” she said, her heart pounding. “I’d say you were insulting.” Then she walked away from him, all the way across the room, to stand with her back to the closed draperies, her arms crossed below her breasts. “Now go away.”

      “I can’t,” Chance said, spreading his arms. “You’ve locked the door.”

      Julia pushed her hands into the pockets of her gown, her fingers closing over the cool metal of the large key. “Oh, blast,” she said angrily, then took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “All right. Say what it is you came to say and then go.”

      She believed he’d come here to talk? Lord love the woman. But very well, they’d talk. “I wanted to thank you for today, Julia. Ainsley was quite impressed. My sisters believe you to be extremely pleasant, my brothers are envious of me and my daughter, it would appear, would be a sad child indeed if you weren’t here. And you didn’t stab me with your fork when I kissed your cheek in front of my family tonight at dinner. So for all of that—” he spread his arms again, palms up, as if to show that they, and he, were empty of anything in the least nefarious “—thank you.”

      “You’re welcome,” Julia said, then lowered her head, looked at him through her lashes, totally unaware of what she was doing. But she did feel flattered and quite pleased. What a pathetic fool she was, she should be ashamed of herself. “Your sisters like me? I think they’re very nice. Very different but very nice. Callie is a rare handful, isn’t she?”

      “They all are, in their way. Except for Eleanor. Although I will warn you, that little bit of nothing has a will of iron. I, for one, would think twice before I crossed her.”

      Julia couldn’t help herself. “I noticed that she walks with a slight limp. Callie says her leg gives her pain.”

      “And you, uncurious as ever, want to know what happened to her, yes? Was she born that way? Was there an accident?” Chance said, moving closer, shortening the distance between them.

      “No,” Julia said quickly. “No, I don’t. If Eleanor wants me to know someday, she’ll tell me. I won’t ask about Eleanor or any of your sisters or brothers. I won’t ask about Ainsley and I most especially will not ask about Jacko or Billy or any of the others I’ve encountered thus far. Mr. Becket’s servants, that is.”

      “And a motley collection they are, yes. All colors, all shapes, all sizes and more than a few languages among them. At least two missing a hand each, one of those a woman. And one with a wooden leg—that would be Bumble, our cook. I don’t think there are more than three or four who have all their own teeth, either. We had one who’d lost an eye, wore a fine black patch, but I’ve heard Ricardo put his good eye to finding himself a fine countrywoman in Dymchurch who doesn’t mind his feet stuck under her kitchen table.”

      Julia put a hand to her mouth to cover her smile. “Certainly none of them remind me of your fine London butler or your footmen in their fancy livery. Everyone here…everyone just seems to be here because they want to be here, and as long as they’re here, they’ll help out.”

      “What a lovely and very apt way of putting it,” Chance said, shortening the distance between them yet again. Slowly. Slowly. All good things come slowly.

      Julia shrugged. “The house is so formal, but the people are not. I…I do think it is all very lovely, frankly, although I believe I can understand why your late wife wasn’t quite so delighted. Becket Hall is most certainly not Upper Brook Street.”

      “Becket Hall is our land ship,” Chance said, realizing his words were very close to the truth. “Stone and mortar rather than wood and sail. An aging crew, retired from the sea. Someone should write an epic poem.”

      “Perhaps someone has, in a way,” Julia said, nervously twisting her hands together. “‘The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze up-blew. The mariners all again work the ropes, Where they were wont to do. They raised their limbs like lifeless tools—We were a ghastly crew.’”

      Chance stepped back as if she’d slapped him. “Samuel Taylor Coleridge.”

      “‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,’ yes.” Julia shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why that came into my mind.”

      “No, no, that’s all right. It’s a fanciful story. The mariner saved by an albatross, only to slay the bird and have it hung around his neck as penance. Ainsley puts more stock into that fantasy than most.”

      Unbidden, another bit of the poem sprang into Julia’s head. “‘The other was a softer voice, As soft as honeydew: Quoth he, ‘The man hath penance done, And penance more will do.’” Now she was becoming fanciful as well as scaring herself. “It’s growing late….”

      “Yes. Yes, it is,” Chance said, snapping himself back to attention and to the matter at hand. “You’re an interesting woman, Julia. The vicar’s daughter, who knows too much about what goes on in the Marsh, who has no qualms about tending to bloody wounds…who spouts poetry.”

      He pushed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if you’re the luckiest find a man could stumble over or his just punishment.”

      Julia swallowed down hard, amazed at how vulnerable Chance Becket looked to her at that moment and how in charity she was with this maddening man who harbored so many secrets. So many, she felt sure, sad secrets. “This hasn’t been an easy homecoming for you, has it?”

      Chance looked at her and laughed softly. “You noticed? And here I thought I was putting such a fine face on things.”

      The room was becoming smaller, more intimate. And he was becoming very aware of how alone he had been for so very long and how sweet it would be to have someone to hold, someone to care for him. Someone who someday he might even be able to talk to….

      Julia felt so sorry for the man, both for the man and the boy he’d been. If he were Alice’s age, she would take him in her arms and try to comfort him. “Yes, I did notice. And my presence here isn’t making any of what’s going on here easier for you.”

      He shook his head, shocked to realize what he would say next was true. “No, Julia, there’s where you’re wrong. Frankly I can’t imagine being here without you. God knows what I would have done if you hadn’t been there on the Marsh with me last night. I might have…might have been stupid enough to destroy everything.”

      Should she pretend not to understand what he meant? But what was the point in that? “If Dickie had not said Black Ghost to me, and me to you, you may have done your duty. Then Dickie may have said the words to someone at Dover Castle.” She closed her eyes for a second, then said the rest. “And brought the world down around your family’s head.”

      “Billy would have stopped me,” Chance said before he could measure his words. Too close, too close; this woman was much too close.

      Julia put her hand on Chance’s arm. “Do they really spy on you in London? Don’t they trust you?”

      Now Chance laughed in genuine amusement. “Billy protects me. Or at least СКАЧАТЬ