A Gentleman By Any Other Name (19 page)

“Well…well that's good, thank you,” Julia said as they began walking once more. “Would you really have thrown the ring into the sea?”

Chance smiled down at her, and she thought she could see the devil peeking out of his eyes. “Only a woman would believe that, my dear. That stone is worth a small fortune. Even so, our agreement stands.”

Julia refused to answer him other than to pull her arm free of his and walk faster.

He caught up easily. “Julia? Our agreement stands?”

“Yes, yes, it stands. And you…you're the most
foolish
man I've ever met.”

“Foolish, is it?” Behind her, Chance grinned, his mood improving by leaps and bounds as he admired Julia's straight, slim form as she walked ahead of him. He still wasn't certain exactly where he wanted to go with Julia Carruthers, but that was no reason not to enjoy the journey. “That can't be the word you were searching for.”

“Really? Only a man would believe that,
my dear.
” And then Julia mentally patted herself on the back all the way to Becket Hall, for, just this once at least, she had finally gotten in the last word with Chance Becket.

In fact, it wasn't until she was safely alone in her bedchamber that her smile faded and she realized she wasn't really happy at all….

A
FTER
J
ULIA HAD GONE
upstairs to change, Chance ran Courtland to ground in Ainsley's study, the pair of them sitting silently, looking through the windows toward the calm waters of the Channel.

“You're a cheery twosome,” Chance said, going to the drinks table to pour himself a glass of wine. “Don't tell me Spence cocked up his toes. It was only a nick.”

“Spence is fine, threatening Odette with mayhem if she insists on keeping him in bed. We were just considering what to do next, if you must know,” Courtland said, picking up his own glass from the table beside his chair. “Lieutenant Diamond didn't exactly arrive here the bearer of good news.”

“No, he didn't,” Chance said, nodding to Ainsley, who sat behind his desk, before taking up a seat of his own. He rather sprawled on the maroon leather couch, then pushed his hair out of his eyes. He had a black grosgrain ribbon in his pocket and could tie his hair back, out of his way, but was rather enjoying the casual dress of Becket Hall, and the devil with starched collars and choking neck cloths and the rest. He had even begun to look back fondly on the days when, as a boy, he'd run barefoot through the warm sand. Memories he'd for so long tried to squelch. Perhaps Julia was right, and he was
foolish.
And not quite paying attention, which was never good.

“I wonder,” Ainsley said. “Is Red Men Gang the name they've given themselves or simply what the locals call them because of these sashes they wear?”

“Does it matter?”

Chance sighed, stretched his legs out in front of him to frown at his sandy boots. “Yes, Court, it does. Are we dealing with a ragtag crew of fairly disjointed individuals or are there brains somewhere and not merely brawn? The better we know the enemy, the easier it will be to plan how to deal with them.”

Courtland bowed his head to his brother, grudgingly conceding the point. “Whatever the case, according to the lieutenant, this gang seems to be popping up everywhere up and down the coast all at the same time, more than twenty miles each direction, which is barely credible.”

“I don't claim to be too familiar with the residents of this area,” Chance said, “but I think we can be fairly sure that the leaders of the various small gangs would have several reasons not to share their power or mingle their hauls.”

“Very true, Chance. There can be only one real leader to make the decisions. They'd be fighting among themselves before long, unable to agree who should be in charge,” Ainsley said, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the desktop.

“Tearing each other apart like dogs the moment a single discrepancy showed up in the size of the loads,” Courtland agreed, nodding his head. “Good men, for the most part, but definitely leery of strangers, and we all know that around here a stranger is anyone not from your own village.”

“Then we're agreed that we're dealing with a large, well-controlled, strongly led and generously financed organization. Someone in London has to be in charge overall, possibly a cartel formed of both businessmen and the men who do the real work. Yes, even members of the
ton,
who wouldn't get their own hands dirty but who forward the money to bring goods across the Channel, then reap the lion's share of the rewards back in London when those goods sell for five or ten times their worth. Well-financed, well-organized, well-armed. Ruthless enough to set a few examples, like Pike, so that all the local gangs knuckle under and join them.”

“You've really put considerable thought into this, haven't you?” Chance asked. “I agree they're ruthless. Killing Pike and the men with him—and now that boy I found on the Marsh—all to send the message that they're in charge. Have there been any other deaths?”

Ainsley nodded. “A few, Court tells me, but even a few is too many. There hasn't been so much bloodletting between gangs since the days of the Deal Boatmen. And the Hawkhurst Gang, of course. The legends might live on, but the worst gangs have been gone for more than fifty years, with the gangs working each in their own territory. There are rules—unwritten yes, but rules. The centuries have taught that everyone can coexist along the English coasts unless any one gang attempts to become too powerful.”

“Which has become more and more the case over the past few months, according to Diamond,” Courtland said as he got to his feet, began to pace.

Ainsley rhythmically rapped his fingers against the desktop, a sure sign that his mind was fully engaged. “Starting with Pike's senseless murder and this attempt to take over the local smugglers, frighten them to either disband and starve or work for the Red Men Gang for a pittance. It's all so familiar, boys, isn't it? Places change, the times change, but not much else. Certainly not people.”

“And now we've stirred the pot by inflicting a few casualties on the other side,” Chance pointed out, “thanks to the Black Ghost taking his revenge. We disposed of the bodies, but the good lieutenant is bound to hear about last night's adventure before long. Pity I don't think he's the sort who'd take a bribe to look the other way.”

Courtland whirled on his brother. “What would you have had me do? It was only through Pike's widow that I could even find out how to contact the smugglers, let alone convince them I only wanted to guard them, not take a slice of their pie. And I needed a disguise, so not to bring holy hell down on us here at Becket Hall—”

“Ah, yes. The cape. Very impressive.”

“Yes, damn it, Chance, it is, and I needed to make an impression. I wanted my revenge for Pike. We all did. We've lived here without incident for a long time, and a man like Pike should have died in his bed, not be brutally murdered. These are our people, they've accepted us without questions, and we have a duty to keep them safe. I just didn't think we'd end up riding out again and again.”

Chance hazarded a look at Ainsley, who was now sitting back once more, his hands steepled just beneath his chin. Chance wasn't sure if the man was amused, contemplating mayhem or simply content to listen. “But you didn't tell Ainsley. If you were so sure what you were doing was right, Court, why didn't you tell him?”

“We've already been over that ground, Court and I,” Ainsley said calmly. “The matter is settled between us.”

Chance got to his feet. “So I'm no longer included in the family? Is that it? I was good enough to ride out with him last night.”

Courtland turned on his brother. “You can't stand it that I'm in charge now, can you?”

“On the contrary, brother mine,” Chance said, looking straight into Courtland's eyes. “I can't stand that you made such a bloody mess of things.”

Courtland took a step in his brother's direction. “At least I didn't cut and run, turn my back like some judgmental bastard.
You
probably would have let Pike go un-avenged. All we've seen is the back of you for most of the past thirteen years. What makes you think you can simply
stroll
back here and take over?”

Chance felt his hands tighten into fists and purposefully relaxed his fingers. “Nothing,” he said, mastering his anger, refusing to contemplate whether Courtland was calling him disinterested, a coward or both. “Nothing makes me think I can come back here and take over. You're a man grown now, Court, and you stayed. I may not agree wholeheartedly with what you've done with this Black Ghost thing, but I'm here now and I want to help.”

Courtland looked at the hand Chance extended to him. “Help, not lead.”

“Don't push, Court,” Chance said with a smile, but the warning was in his tone. “I give my word.”

“Then we'll shake on it,” the younger man said, grabbing Chance's hand. “I don't usually nearly come to blows twice in one day and with the same person. I apologize.”

“As does Chance,” Ainsley said from his seat behind the desk. “And now, before this old man begins blubbering at all this affecting sentiment being bandied about, Court, I believe Jacko has some ideas about how to better organize the men. He's at the
Last Voyage,
as usual. Go humor him, please.”

Chance could see that Courtland wanted to decline but that his brother also understood that Ainsley's mild tone contained an order not to be disobeyed.

Once Courtland had bowed and left the study, Chance turned to Ainsley. “Even with that ridiculous beard, I keep forgetting he's no longer a boy. He's grown a temper as well as found his tongue, hasn't he?”

“I'd say his fuse is about the same length as yours. And we all make mistakes. That's how we learn. Sit down, Chance.”

“You want to ask about my fiancée, I imagine. I just gave her a ring to seal our engagement.” Chance returned to the couch, feeling not a single qualm about lying to Ainsley concerning his supposed plans to marry Julia.

“No, I don't wish to meddle in your private affairs, Chance. Except, of course, for how they might affect the rest of us.”

“Everything is fine on that head. Besides, along with Alice still in Julia's charge, Elly has agreed to also keep her occupied with plans for the nuptials. Embroidering pillowcases and whatever other nonsense women believe necessary. And once things are settled here, I'll take Julia back to London. I see no more trouble, nothing for Jacko or anyone else to fret about anymore.”

Ainsley lifted one well-defined black eyebrow. “Really? I have met the woman, you know, spoken with her. You and I haven't been together for any length in some time, Chance. Do you regularly delude yourself now?”

Chance threw back his head and laughed, then quickly sobered. “All right, I'll be honest with you. I'm thinking I may have to tie her to the bedpost to keep her nose out of our business, actually. It seems she grew up on stories of the Hawkhurst Gang and smuggling in general. Her vicar father either rode with the local smugglers before his death or, at the least, allowed them to use his church as a hidey-hole. No matter what, Julia is very much in sympathy with the smugglers.”

Ainsley looked at him, just looked at him. And waited.

“You want me to say it all, don't you? Very well,” Chance said, knowing no one had ever won a staring match with Geoffrey Baskin; a change of name and the passage of more than a dozen years hadn't seemed to change that.

“I want to know if you understand, that's all.”

“Oh, I understand. She sees too much and she asks too many questions. Billy knows that because he was there with us on the Marsh when we stumbled over the boys, and what Billy knows, Jacko knows, along with God only knows how many others at the
Last Voyage.
And we both know how superstitious those two are about women, no matter that we aren't aboard ship anymore.”

“Billy still walks as if he is, and Jacko has a sad past when it comes to women, so we'll excuse him.”

“A sad past, is it? I heard it was a case of the pox with one and a bash over the head and a stolen purse with another.”

“There's also the one in Santiago he found in bed with another woman—and if you ever repeat that, we're both as good as dead men,” Ainsley said, getting to his feet, still straight and slim, handsome as well as impressive in his unremitting black. “I've spoken with Odette.”

Chance smiled wryly, happy to be back on such close footing with the captain. “Yes, so have I. According to Odette, Julia will follow wherever I go and never betray me, so I suppose I should relax.”

“She also said that Isabella and I would live to see our many children and grandchildren,” Ainsley said as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

There was shared pain in the small silence that followed Ainsley's words.

“You're worried I might go all soft on her. Let my heart rule my head. Don't be. I'll watch her,” Chance promised quietly at last, keeping his tone neutral.

“No, you'll take Billy and get on with your business, and we'll watch her. The moon's still right for another run tonight and Court will handle that, our crew guarding the men as they land and until the goods are safely concealed before they can be moved inland.”

“They can't use the crude hidey-hole I saw last night. The Red Men Gang will certainly be watching for them there.”

“Agreed, and we don't want another fight—yet. It's unfortunate, but we see no other avenue at this late date but to hide the goods in the village.”

Chance put a hand to his head and began rubbing at his forehead, wishing he didn't have to ask the question. “Landing where?”

“On the sands, as they've done before. Nearly under my nose, which shows how senile I've grown. There have been mistakes made, Chance, and they will be remedied. But for tonight we've got no choice. Only two dozen small boats land at midnight, carrying silk, coffee, gin and brandy, rowing across the Channel, if that tells you how desperate these men are and why the goods won't be moved again until tomorrow night. They'll arrive exhausted.”

“The sands aren't a good idea.”

“Why? Because Court picked the area, not you? Everyone knows the sands are treacherous to anyone unfamiliar with them, so I don't expect any problems from the dragoons.”