A Gentleman By Any Other Name (26 page)

Julia was out of the bed an instant later. “Do you think Callie may have hidden herself near the sands? The grasses are so deep, the rushes—but you said she knows not to go on the sands.”

Chance pulled on his clothing, cursing again when he saw that his shirt was now missing two buttons. “She's teasing Alice, that's all, and scaring the wits out of Ainsley, who probably deserves it. And when Court or I get our hands on her—”

“You're already assuming Callie's playing a trick on Alice?” Julia asked, turning her back to him so that he could button her gown. “Isn't that assuming too much?”

“With that little hellion, a person can never assume too much. Even Elly can't control her, and Odette threw up her hands years ago,” Chance told her, taking her hand in order to head downstairs, only to have her break free because she still hadn't found her second shoe. “Good thing the house isn't on fire or you'd burn to a crisp. Although I suppose you should probably comb your hair?”

“You can be exceedingly annoying, you know,” Julia told him truthfully and then raced to her dressing table to drag a brush through her hair before turning on him, eying him up and down. “And you, Mr. Ready, might want to consider buttoning your breeches.”

Chance looked down at himself. “Damn.”

“Indeed. And what are we going to tell Alice?”

“Nothing, unless she asks again. Then you can take care of it.”

“
Me?
Why me?”

Chance smiled quickly. “It wasn't
my
bed.”

“No, it wasn't, was it?” Julia stamped her foot more firmly into her shoe. “And you won't be back in that bed again, Chance Becket. You coward!”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, pushing his arms into the sleeves of his coat. “Turn around once more, let me see if you're entirely decent.”

“More decent than you,” Julia said through gritted teeth, then did as he said before returning the favor.

Once satisfied that neither of them would embarrass themselves or frighten Alice with their appearance, they headed down the front staircase just in time to see Ainsley hobbling in from the outside, leaning heavily on Rian.

“What in the hell—?”

“He stepped into a hole on the beach and injured his ankle. We don't think it's broken, though,” Rian said, holding on to Ainsley's wrist, as Ainsley's arm was draped across his son's shoulders. “You want to stand there and watch or do you want to help?”

Chance immediately went to Ainsley's other side, offering his support. “Callie?”

“Found her, over in the village, perched fine as you please on Judah's counter, eating rock candy. Court's got her outside now, tearing a strip off her hide.”

Julia came to attention. She'd thought Chance had been teasing her with all that talk of beatings, his hint at what he or Courtland would do when they found Callie. What, after all, did she know about this curious family and their customs? “He's—is he
beating
her?”

“She deserves a good hiding, don't you think?” Chance said, both surprised and angry that Julia would immediately believe they were some sort of savages, the kind that would physically harm a child. Especially Courtland, who knew firsthand what it felt like to have the strap against his back.

But if that's what she wanted to think, then he'd leave her to her rash conclusions and her damning expression. He turned his back on that damning expression to help Ainsley into the main salon, where Eleanor waited, calmly giving out orders to one of the maids to fetch hot water, bandages and Odette, and not in that order.

“She was only playing a trick on Alice,” Julia argued, following after them. “She never could have realized that her little prank would have such…such consequences.”

Ainsley winced as his sons lowered him into a chair, and Eleanor rushed to install a footstool beneath his left ankle.

“Actions have consequences, Julia,” Ainsley said. “Callie's reckless decision has consequences. My foolish panic for my daughter's safety had its consequences. We will have both of us learned a lesson in consequences today.”

“But…but surely you aren't going to let Court punish her like that, make her—”

“Julia, this is none of your concern,” Chance said, knowing now was not the time to explain the rules of survival to her. “We have to be able to depend on each other here. Callie has to learn that. Now why don't you and your delicate sensibilities take yourselves off upstairs?”

Eleanor looked up at Julia. “Callie will be fine,” she assured Julia, who quickly decided that the Beckets were all bordering on the edge of madness. All of them.

“I will
not
stand by while Court hits that child. I'm going to put a stop to this right now.”

“Julia!” Chance called out, before Ainsley grabbed his arm.

“Let her go, son. She's already drawn her own conclusions. And Cassandra must be punished.”

Julia heard Ainsley and was tempted to stop, turn around, and give him a piece of her mind. But there was no time for that. Punishing a child for being a child? Ludicrous!

She pulled open the heavy front door and raced out onto the stone porch, looking to her left, then her right, hoping to see Cassandra and Courtland. And there they were, sitting with their backs to her just on the bottom step, talking quietly.

“So you'll apologize to Alice,” Courtland was saying to her, looking toward the horizon, as was Cassandra.

“I said I would, yes. And to Papa, too. Why did he go running like that, Court?”

“Your papa loves you very much and he couldn't bear losing you.”

“I wasn't lost. I was hiding from Alice. It was a
game.
”

“Really? And does it still feel like a game?”

Cassandra shook her head, her windblown curls bouncing. “I didn't think Papa would be so upset. I didn't think anyone would be so upset.” She turned to look up at Courtland. “Are you upset?”

“No, I'm disappointed. I thought you were growing up, Cassandra, that you understood the rules, but now I know you're still a child.”

Julia closed her hands into tight fists. Of course Cassandra was a child. Only thirteen! What did he expect from her?

Julia noticed that Cassandra hadn't answered Courtland. And then she saw Courtland sigh and hand the child his handkerchief.

Cassandra buried her face in the fine white linen.

“I won't do anything so silly again, Court, I promise.”

“Not silly, Cassandra. Dangerous.”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say. I don't ever want you to be disappointed in me. Not ever.” She lowered the handkerchief and looked at him, her young heart painfully visible in her eyes. “I love you, Court. You know I love you.”

Julia watched as Courtland's spine seemed to stiffen.
Oh yes, Callie,
she thought,
he knows that.

“God's teeth,” Courtland said, a man on the verge of losing control. “Just what I don't need—your silly love. Now go apologize to your papa and Alice and everyone else. And be in the scullery straight after dinner to scrub the pots. For two weeks, Cassandra, that's your punishment. You're in the scullery for a full fortnight, and remember that Bumble expects no half measures or you'll feel the back of his spoon across the back of your head.”

“I hate you,” Cassandra said, jumping to her feet as she threw the handkerchief at him. “I hate, hate,
hate
you and I'm never going to speak to you again!”

“If only that were true,” Courtland called after her, then slammed his palms hard against either side of his head.
“Damn it.”

Julia stepped against the wall as Cassandra raced up the steps, sobbing wildly as she disappeared into the house.

“That couldn't have been easy. I'm sorry I was here to overhear you, but I thought you were going to beat her,” Julia said when Courtland slowly got to his feet and saw her, at which time his tormented expression went perfectly blank.

“Did you now, Julia? Maybe I should have. A good spanking would have been less painful—for both of us,” he said as he climbed toward her.

“So her
consequences
are a few apologies and two weeks as scullery maid?”

He stopped to look at her. “A paltry punishment, isn't it? But we're not at sea, so I couldn't order her keelhauled,” he said with a faint smile.

“I think Chance would have spanked her,” Julia told him as he paused on the step just below hers. “Ainsley, too.”

“Chance? Oh, I doubt that. Chance is more likely to ring a long, loud peal over her head, I'd think, and Ainsley has a way of speaking quietly and reasonably that makes a person feel lower than barnacles on the hull of a sunken ship.”

“But they seemed to think that's what you were going to do. Spank her, I mean.” She frowned, thinking back. “Or at least I thought they meant that….”

“And maybe I would have swatted her behind a few times if I believed it would help. Unfortunately withdrawing my…my affection seems to work best with Cassandra. She won't do anything so potentially dangerously again. Do you realize how many treacherous places there are around here, not to mention the possibility of strangers in the area? She knew her boundaries, where she's allowed without one of us with her, and she deliberately went outside them. And now, Julia, if you'll excuse me, I think I'd like a full decanter and a deep glass. Playing the heartless bastard is thirsty work.”

Julia remained leaning against the wall of the immense mansion, considering the relationship between Courtland and the young Cassandra. That it was a complicated relationship was obvious to her. Was it obvious to anyone else?

Becket Hall was a household of individuals, each with their own past, their own secrets, and all of them banded together to turn as one against anyone or anything that threatened the whole—even if that someone was one of them.

Cassandra's innocent prank had caused an unforeseen accident to Ainsley Becket, as well as badly frightening Alice, and for that Cassandra had to be punished. She'd weakened the “whole.”

And Chance? One moment they had been so close, so intimate, so in tune with each other. He had begun to talk to her, to tell her some things about his past, just as if he trusted her. And the next moment? The next moment she had been the outsider again, told to take herself off as the Beckets closed ranks.

And she'd expected it. Perhaps even helped separate herself from, again, that “whole.” Because as much as she wanted them all to trust her, how sure was she that she could trust
them?

Trust Chance.

No matter how close the two of them became physically, he still didn't trust her enough, care for her enough, to truly let her into his life. Yes, he had begun to tell her some things. But he always monitored what he said and then stopped when he came close to revealing more.

If she wasn't allowed into his life, how could she ever believe she'd be welcomed into his heart? How could she fully welcome him into hers?

And that realization hurt. That hurt quite a lot.

“
H
OW'S THE CRIPPLE
feeling today?” Chance asked, gesturing toward Ainsley's wrapped ankle as he lowered himself onto one of the leather couches in the study. “Still that swollen? It's been four days.”

“I can count, Chance, and the swelling had been going down. Odette said the god-awful grease she smeared on me this morning would mean the last of it, but I'm beginning to think the woman's cursed me instead, because it's worse,” Ainsley said, shifting slightly in his chair as he readjusted his foot on the tapestry footstool.

“Not you, Cap'n. You're her favorite,” Chance said, grinning. “She'd never find a way to punish you for carelessly running across that stretch of shingle.”

“I wish you sounded more convincing—and less amused. Oh, and Cassandra has asked Odette to make a
caprelata
especially fashioned from straw, some of Court's hair from his brushes, his ruby stickpin and several rather nasty herbs and other ingredients I really don't want to dwell on, frankly. Tell me, have you seen Court this morning? Is he looking at all sickly? I believe the idea was that his nose and ears should turn blue and drop off.”

“Her mother's child,” Chance said with a smile before he could stop himself. His smile faded. “I'm sorry.”

“No, don't be. It's time, well past time, that everyone stops tiptoeing around me, leaving me free to selfishly wallow in my guilt and grief. For Isabella, for everyone hurt by my stupid,
stupid
misjudgment. Too many wasted years, Chance. For both of us. It's time to move on.” He smiled up at his son. “Or do you really enjoy seeing Court and the others so abominably ill-suited for anything save standing on the shore, tossing stones into the Channel?”

“And hoping they won't miss?” Chance sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Seriously, Cap'n, they can all ride and shoot tolerably well, although I'll agree they're more spirit and fire than common sense. They all seem to think with their hearts, not their heads. So you're serious? You're really going to take charge again?”

“I don't believe I have a choice. Jacko's been doing what he can with them, but he loses interest quickly when the rum calls him. Not that I'd ever want any of them depending on their wits and pistols. We've made a new life here, a different one. Safer. I foolishly believed that if they weren't raised as you were, didn't put themselves in danger, then they'd avoid danger. But sometimes danger comes to us whether we want it or not.”

“This Red Men Gang.”

“Yes. They worry me. Court's heartfelt but dangerous action has brought them too close to Becket Hall for any of us to be comfortable.”

“You could leave, go somewhere else. Or do you still think you need to keep everyone here, in the back of beyond? I mean, it's been more than a dozen years. Even if some were to talk, brag in some pub about having sailed with the Black Ghost, especially on that last enterprise, no one would listen.”

“Perhaps not. England has more to worry about than hunting down Geoffrey Baskin and his men. But we're settled here and have been safe. The problem, however, is that the girls will soon be ready to marry, and I'm selfish enough to want them to be able to choose from more than a few local dragoons. I understand you've invited Morgan to London for next year's season?”

“I'd take Elly, too, but she won't go.”

“No, Eleanor and I have come to an agreement about that. She's much happier here.”

“Because of her leg.”

“I'm sure that plays a part in her decision, yes,” Ainsley said, his tone mild, but Chance knew he wouldn't say anything more on the subject, just as they both knew there was much to say.

“Julia isn't speaking to me,” Chance said, surprised to hear his own voice, because he certainly hadn't planned to say anything about his most vexing problem. “She's hiding behind Alice—and I'm allowing her to, which is fairly pathetic. But I don't know what else to do.”

“Apologizing would, I imagine, be completely out of the question?”

Chance shoved his fingers through his hair, then pulled off the black grosgrain ribbon, holding it in his palm to look at it. He'd found the thing on his dresser two days ago. “I could do that, I suppose, if I knew what in blazes she was so angry about. But I don't.”

Ainsley raised one expressive eyebrow as he looked at his oldest son. “Haven't the ghost of a notion, have you? I wonder, would that make you deaf, dumb and blind…or just thick as a post when it comes to females? And here I thought you were an educated gentleman, traveling about in London society.”

“Julia's not like any woman I've met in London.” Chance got to his feet, began to pace. “I gave her the ring. She has my word that I'll marry her. She could be very reasonably upset that I compromised her the way I did, but she doesn't exactly avoid my touch—at least she hadn't been.” He spread his hands as he looked at Ainsley. “What else does she need?”

“Thick as a post,” Ainsley said as if coming to a decision. He steepled his fingers in front of him and lightly tapped them against his chin. “Could it be, Chance, that Miss Carruthers wants more from you than your ring and your offer? Oh, and your
touch?
”

Chance knew where this conversation was heading. “I'm not ready for that, Ainsley. I've told her a few things, more than I've ever told anyone else—mostly because she plagues a man out of his mind with her questions. Besides, you just said we should forget the past.”

“Did I? I don't think so. I said we need to move on with our lives. We'll never, none of us save the youngest ones, be able to forget the past, but we can forgive that time if we are to have any hope for the future. That's why I'm so very pleased that you've come back, that we've been able to make amends. Why I'm so eager to take the boys in hand—the young men, for they are young men now. And most definitely why I want the girls settled, happy. You do believe you deserve to be happy, don't you, Chance?”

Chance folded his arms over his chest, began rubbing his hands on his upper arms as he looked toward the window, toward the Channel, the deep blue alive with small whitecaps from the wind as sunlight glittered on the surface. “I miss the sea. I tried to convince myself that I didn't, but going out on the
Respite
brought it all back. The wind, the smells, the deck under my feet. Even the creak of the rigging when I'm below deck, rocking in my hammock. That's the true siren song, you know.”

“So is that it? Why you refuse to allow Julia too close? You want to return to the sea? Leave England?”

Chance turned to face Ainsley. Leave Julia? That thought had never occurred to him. And, he realized in some shock, never would. Never. “No, that's not what I meant. I turned my back on all of my former life. It's time to get some of that life back. I'm thinking of commissioning a sloop of my own, if you'll allow me to keep it anchored here.”

“I see. Then perhaps in the meantime you'd be willing to go out on the
Respite
again?”

Chance waited for more, but nothing seemed to be forthcoming. “You have a particular time and place in mind?”

“I do, yes,” Ainsley said, reaching for his wineglass, his movement sure, subtly elegant, as Ainsley had always been elegant. The tall, slim body, the long, straight fingers. The quiet air of command. The man Chance had always so admired was very much in evidence again, even with his bandaged ankle on a pillow. The spirit was back, the
heart.
God, how Chance had missed him.

“I've overlooked something that's been happening under my nose, haven't I?”

“While mooning over that young woman of yours? Yes, I think you have. Billy's made another visit to this Laughing Sally person. I hesitate to say that he's indulging in a game of April and May, but I've been told he did endure a bath before he left yesterday.”

“I suppose I should have taken the time to meet this woman who could be toying with Billy's affections. Not that Billy can't find himself a woman. I don't mean that. But not one he didn't have to pay for.”

“Poor Billy, but a babe in arms when it comes to romance.” Ainsley took a sip of wine, replaced the glass on the table. “In any event, Laughing Sally, who apparently entertains other suitors upon occasion, was eager to tell him she'd learned that the Red Men Gang is planning a rather daring adventure.”

Chance retook his seat, not bothering to disguise his interest. If he couldn't make heads or tails of what he should be doing about Julia—and groveling like some lovesick puppy had yet to occur to him in any serious way—he would be more than relieved to have something else to occupy his mind. “Surely they're not planning a run before the new moon. Not with Diamond and his men making such a point of patrolling the area.”

Ainsley sighed theatrically. “You do have your head in the clouds, don't you, Chance? Still, better we settle our problem with the Red Men Gang before you make more of a fool of yourself with Julia. The Red Men Gang, Chance, doesn't worry about the phases of the moon. Full moon, new moon—nothing impacts their plans or their arrogance. Certainly not the ineffective and inept Waterguard.”

“And this Laughing Sally knows these plans?”

“So it would seem. The plan, as Billy heard it, is for a very large shipment to be off-loaded near the shore from some nameless sloop or cutter—possibly French—then moved overland that same night through territory we have always claimed as our own. To the tune of two hundred landsmen, most of them quite unhappy to be there. An insult, a dare and a large haul—one the local freebooters might covet, especially since they lost most of their last run to that same Red Men Gang. In any event, the Red Men are out for revenge for the men we killed, that's simple to see, and dangling this run as bait. Fetch me that map, if you please.”

“Is this all striking you as too perfect?” But Chance did as he was told, then stood behind Ainsley's chair, leaning forward to look at the map.

“What Billy heard is that the landing will be about here,” Ainsley said, putting a finger on the map, “Saint Mary's Bay, with the goods immediately moved overland, straight through the heart of the village. Very bold, very ambitious.”

“And extremely obvious. This is too easy.”

“Very good, Chance. Which is why I've decided the
real
landing will be here,” Ainsley said, pointing to a spot some distance from Saint Mary's Bay and closer to Becket Hall.

“There's better cover there, I agree, and less beach. And only two ways to travel to the spot—along the beach itself or the much more dangerous marsh in that area. We'd ride straight into them, believing them somewhere else.”

“And if I were planning this battle, they'll have their sloop running in close, then luring any waiting boats out into the Channel to destroy them. They can't know they'll be facing the
Respite,
as she's never been used before. What
we
can't know is if they're running a sloop or a cutter—or both.”

“We could be badly outmanned.” Chance straightened. “Why not just alert Lieutenant Diamond? Lord knows he's itching to be a hero.”

Ainsley shook his head. “Odette doesn't like him.”

Chance rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, if Odette doesn't like him—”

“She didn't care for the way he goaded Spencer into reopening his wound.” Refolding the map, Ainsley said, “For what it's worth, Jacko shares her opinion, although I've yet to see him fond of any man wearing the king's uniform. Besides, since when do we send someone else to do our fighting for us? If Laughing Sally's information has been bought and paid for, the leaders of this Red Men Gang—God, I loathe that insipid name—have come to the same conclusion we've come to.”

“That there needs to be one decisive win, and the loser will have no choice but to abandon the field to the victor. In this case, the shoreline of Romney Marsh between Dungeness and Dymchurch,” Chance said, taking the map and spreading it open again on the table so he could study it.

“So they intend to draw us out. This Laughing Sally couldn't have been the only one spoon-fed the story. I imagine every doxy from here to Dymchurch has been paid to whisper the same tale, to be sure it reaches us.”

“Yes. Gautier brought back much the same story from his visit to New Romney to fetch the mail and, obviously, amuse himself. Poor Billy. Do we tell him he's just another unfortunate pawn in the game of love?”

“Better than letting Jacko tell him.” Chance grinned, then returned his attention to the map, his palms pressed against the table. “Two hundred landsmen, you said. I doubt that, especially if they've been forced to cooperate. The Red Men Gang couldn't count on such men to stand and fight or even be sure they wouldn't turn and attack them.”

“You may not be any more perceptive in matters of the heart than Billy, but you can still manage to think your way around a battle plan. At any rate, I concur. Their vessel will be heavily armed and manned, that's for certain, sans cargo and riding high and fast in the water—prepared to attack what they believe will be no more than ancient luggers—with another ambush planned on shore. And our part in all of this is to charge ignorantly to the slaughter.”