Ransome's Honor (18 page)

He frowned again. “I shall have to give it some thought. There is much that is rough and coarse about the dockyard. I do not know if you should be exposed to it.”

“You think I have never heard coarse language or been around men with rough manners?” She needed to spend time with the common sailors, with those not of high rank, to get a better feel for their behavior, for their speech. He had to give in.

“I shall think about it.”

Drake turned his horse toward the less desirable part of town near the dockyard as darkness took hold in the streets. He had spent the day leaving calling cards at the homes of people his mother thought important. He’d also gathered intelligence while out, learning of the supposed duel between himself and Ransome yesterday.

He smirked. As if he would lower himself to dueling with a sailor.

But the key...a sick feeling returned to his stomach. When his mother had told him about finding the strongbox, about her suspicions of what it contained—coin, deeds, bank notes—the bright flash of the brass key as he’d returned it to Julia mocked him. And when his mother went back to find an alternative way to open the lock, the box had disappeared. Mother was coming too close to overplaying her hand and losing everything.

He entered the Long Rooms. Patrons at whist tables in the outer room greeted Drake as an old friend—several gentlemen he’d seen around town earlier—and he paused to speak as a way of seeing what stakes this room held. Too much silver and copper and not enough gold coin lay in small stacks at each man’s elbow.

“May I say, Sir Drake,” said Percy Fairfax, second son of the baron, “you are envied in your choice of lady. Many a man here has tried to gain the attentions of the fair Miss Witherington.”

“Hear, hear,” chimed in one of the pup’s companions. “Why, she’s a right old maid, but who could not desire her fortune?” The young dandy flushed red and quickly threw back the little brandy remaining in his snifter.

“I believe what St. Vincent means is that before her arrival, none of us expected her to be lovely in addition to heiress to a large fortune.” Percy Fairfax nodded knowingly. “So, old chap, are the rumors true? Did you fight some rascal of a sailor on a point of honor yesterday? On the lady’s behalf?”

Being the son of nobility gave the boy free rein with his insolence. Knowing how quickly gossip could spread in Portsmouth, Drake knew he needed to use this to his advantage. “No duel was fought. Just a matter of impertinent interference into a private conversation.”

The young men clamored their congratulations. “When shall we raise a glass to wish you joy?” Fairfax asked.

Drake shrugged. “Perhaps soon.” If his mother’s plotting stayed between the two of them and did not reach Julia’s ears.

The proprietor appeared. “Come, Sir Drake. Some serious players—” he eyed the young men with amused disdain—“wish for your company in the back room.”

Drake inclined his head toward the pups. “Gentlemen, I bid you good night, then.”

Streaks of pinkish gray cracked the black of the eastern horizon when Drake stumbled out of the Long Rooms. His losses necessitated giving his letters to not just the devil who’d won each hand as if by some dark magic, but to the proprietor as well for the never-ending flow of fine brandy all evening. The sum of the IOUs would be nothing—a pittance—if he already controlled Julia Witherington’s thirty thousand pounds.

First order of business-sleeping off the enormous quantity of alcohol he had imbibed. After that, he would call on his mother to concoct a plan for hastening the union with Julia.

Chapter Seventeen

T
he Windemeres’ drawing room smelled of warm bodies, stale perfume, and the port being passed around by the footman. Julia’s back ached from the strain of holding her head high and ignoring the looks and whispers her entrance had caused, but she was glad to be out after four days under house arrest.

Though the room was filled with many of the same people who attended the concert last week, an atmosphere of cold arrogance hung heavy all around. The Windemeres apparently had no acquaintances among the navy. She’d hoped for at least Mrs. Hinds’s company to make this evening bearable. After all, her aunt could not censure her for associating with an admiral’s wife.

As no one made room for her at their tables—and she was no card-player, so felt the intentional slight no loss—she strolled the perimeter of the room, smiling when smiled at but happy to be left alone. When she drew near a table, the conversation ceased until she passed and then continued in hushed whispers.

“Trying too hard...”

“On the self...”

“Desperate to marry the baronet...”

“Who would have her at her age...?”

“She is an absolute hoyden...”

“I’m sorry for poor Lady Pembroke, saddled with such a niece—” Mrs. Windemere looked up in surprise and had the decency to blush when she saw Julia standing there.

“Mrs. Windemere, I wish to beg your indulgence and see if I might gain your permission to take a turn at the pianoforte. You have such a magnificent instrument, it is a shame to see it idle.” Julia tried to keep her irritation from her smile.

“Why, yes, of course, Miss Witherington,” her hostess simpered. “I have often heard how well you play. It will be a pleasure for us to be so entertained.”

Julia had just gained the bench and started the opening notes of a sonata when the drawing room doors opened and Sir Drake Pembroke was announced. To her great relief, her aunt immediately claimed Drake for her table. Focusing on the music, Julia was almost able to forget where she was—until she heard several excited voices behind her.

“You ask her—”

“No, you’ve been introduced before...”

She finished the last few measures of the piece and turned to face the young women clustered behind her. “What may I play for you ladies?”

“We wondered if you knew some country dances.” The girl—one of the Fairfaxes if Julia remembered correctly—flushed bright red when Julia looked directly at her. “Mrs. Windemere, you see, has allowed us to move aside some of the tables for dancing, if you will play for us.”

Glad to be of use to someone, Julia nodded and turned back to the keyboard. English country dances were among the first music her mother had insisted she learn to play as a child. She liked the swinging rhythm and happy melodies.

The dancers had just taken their positions when a shadow fell over her fingers. Julia glanced up. Sir Drake, looking darker and more brooding than ever in his black suit, leaned against the side of the Broadwood grand, his glass of port precariously poised over the exposed innards of the instrument.

“Good evening, Miss Witherington. I see the youngsters have kept you occupied since my arrival.”

Her stomach churned in annoyance at his presumption that she would come to him as soon as he walked in the door had she no other employment. “I am only glad I can provide others with enjoyment this evening.” She kept her eyes focused on her own fingers as they danced across the ivory and black keys.

“Surely some of the other young ladies play—perhaps we can encourage one of them to take a turn, and you and I can have a dance.”

“No, thank you.” She kept her voice light. “I am quite content where I am.”

She sensed more than saw him stiffen.

“Then perhaps once the dancing has ended, I might persuade you to take a turn about the garden with me. It is quite a pleasant evening.”

She shook her head. “I do not believe I shall feel like taking a turn about the garden later, but thank you, Sir Drake.” Only when she looked up to give him as much of a smile as she could muster did she realize her aunt had joined him. Julia’s fingers tripped over the keys creating a dissonance that reverberated like the palpitation of her heart at the mottled anger visible in Lady Pembroke’s face.

Julia quickly righted her fingers and continued playing, but she knew she was in for another lecture as soon as they got into the carriage.

“Come, son.” Aunt Augusta voice was unnaturally high and strained. “We have need of a fourth.” She stalked away from the pianoforte, Drake following in her wake like a great, black vulture.

Drake did not know with whom he was more furious—Julia or his mother. He’d known wooing Julia would take time. But he’d hoped for some cooperation on her part; however, her coldness proved how difficult a task it would be. He’d broken horses wilder than Julia Witherington. All she needed was a firm hand, applied in just the right manner, and she would come to heel-but not if his mother continued to interfere.

He played his trump and won the hand, pulling a rare smile from his mother. Would Julia turn as cold and calculating as the women at the table with him? Would she lose the sparkle in her green eyes—the sparkle he’d seen directed at others but not at himself? Would she ever look at him with anything but disdain?

What did it matter if Julia liked him or not? He could find more pleasant company in the arms of Lady Margaret Everingham or even in someone like the Ransome chit. He need not depend on his wife to be agreeable—just on her money to be available.

He need not woo her; he need only marry her.

At midnight, the dancing and card games broke up as trays of supper were brought in by servants. Julia continued at the piano, shifting to more subtle, soft music; Drake found a quiet corner and motioned his mother to join him.

He swirled his brandy before taking a long drink. “I believe more drastic measures are necessary if I am to gain Miss Witherington’s fortune before her birthday.”

Something akin to light flickered in his mother’s dark brown eyes. “Yes, courting does not seem to be working. There is a stratagem I have employed once...and gained myself a baronet. We can set the plan in motion day after tomorrow at the Fairfaxes’ ball. The rumor mill is ripe, which is excellent, as my plan depends greatly upon spreading the word that you and Julia are engaged. We make no formal announcement at the ball, merely start the rumor.”

A measure of hope, as warming as the brandy in his glass, started to burn in Drake’s gut. “Go on.”

His mother smiled, though the expression did nothing to alleviate the calculation in her dark eyes. “Friday morning, you will go to Saint Thomas’s, present yourself to the rector, and give him a letter stating your intention to marry Julia. I shall provide you with a letter from the admiral expressing his permission.” She gave him a sly wink. “Once the banns are read Sunday, there will be nothing she can do to stop the marriage. She has too much pride in her father’s name to do anything that would bring it disgrace—such as refusing to marry you after a public announcement has been made. And no one will object to the banns. I am monitoring all post in and out of the house, so she should not be able to appeal to her father.”

He dipped his head in pleasure. “Even should she manage to get a letter out of the house, it will not go beyond the post office, you have my assurance.”

Augusta patted his arm. “My dear boy, I should have known you would have unplumbed depth of resource. In three weeks’ time, you will be wed to Julia and can begin rebuilding the Pembroke holdings.”

After taking a break for a bite of supper, Julia once again moved toward the piano. Though exhausted and wearied of playing, she could think of no other activity to fill the time until her aunt decided to leave.

“Miss Witherington.”

She stopped at a touch on her sleeve and turned to face the girl who had asked her to play for the dancing. Now, however, the young woman appeared troubled. “Miss Fairfax?”

“I wonder—might you take a turn about the room with me?” Her light eyes implored Julia to agree.

“I will.” Julia fell in step with the girl.

Miss Fairfax twisted a lace handkerchief in her hands, and they walked the length of the room in silence. When they reached the corner and turned, she finally spoke. “I was uncertain whether to say anything because I hate gossip; but I could not, in good conscience, keep what I heard to myself.”

Defensiveness rose in Julia, ready to rebut any rumor about herself the girl might have heard, but she kept quiet.

“Just a little while ago, when I sat down to take some supper, I happened to find a seat near to where your aunt and cousin sat. They could not see me due to a large vase in the way, but I could hear them clearly” She glanced at Julia with tortured eyes. “I did not mean to eavesdrop, and I should have walked away as soon as I realized they were having a private conversation. But then I heard Sir Drake mention ‘drastic measures’ to gain your fortune.”

Julia stumbled but righted herself immediately, fear and anger warring inside. “What else did you hear?”

“Lady Pembroke said they will start telling everyone at my mother’s ball that you and Sir Drake are engaged. Then on Friday, he is to go to the church with a letter announcing your engagement so the banns can be posted.”

Nausea threatened to fell Julia, but she refused to succumb. “I... thank you for reporting this to me.” She stopped and touched Miss Fairfax’s wrist. “Please, tell no one else.”

Miss Fairfax covered Julia’s hand with her own. “Have no fear. I would not have repeated it at all, except it directly involved you.”

They continued to traverse the perimeter of the room. When Julia passed Lady Pembroke’s table, she mustered the most pleasant expression she could and prayed the candlelight was dim enough to keep her aunt from seeing her clearly.

Their walk ended at the piano, and Miss Fairfax’s friends once again entreated Julia to play. She could think of no excuse to give, so sat down at the instrument. The employment proved to be helpful, as it kept her occupied while her mind grappled with what Miss Fairfax had told her.

Her first inclination was to confront her aunt, to demand to know if Miss Fairfax’s words were true. But as her fingers moved over the keys and the music started to calm her, assurance of the veracity of the girl’s words drove away any uncertainty. She had never trusted her aunt’s intentions, especially after the arrival of Sir Drake. She’d suspected all along her aunt meant Julia to marry the bounder—especially after learning from her father of the Pembrokes’ financial situation.

At two o’clock in the morning, the party finally ended. Julia swallowed her disgust when Sir Drake took her hand in his and kissed her fingers in farewell, Lady Pembroke looking on with what appeared to be motherly pride.

Once in the privacy of the carriage, Lady Pembroke’s pretense at pleasantness vanished. “I am highly disappointed in your behavior this evening, Julia.”

“My
behavior—?” Julia cut off the tirade of words begging to escape.

“My
son has been nothing but kind toward you—he quite dotes upon you. And yet you sat there and humiliated him by cutting him publicly”

How did one look contrite when mutinous fury raged just below the surface? Julia dropped her gaze to her hands—fisted in her lap—and swallowed a few times. “I apologize, Aunt. As you have pointed out many times, I have not had much experience with good society. I did not mean to...bring any discomfort to Sir Drake.” Her left eye started twitching.

Aunt Augusta released a long sigh. “You must rectify the situation at the ball Thursday evening. Drake, naturally, will request the first set, which will give you ample time to apologize to him.”

And for you to start your rumors
... but not if Julia thought of a solution first. “Yes. I shall see everything put to rights at the ball.”

That response apparently satisfied her aunt, as Augusta began to enumerate the errands they must attend to on the morrow Julia retreated into her own thoughts.

She could not allow Augusta and Drake to ruin her father’s reputation. He was wealthy enough to leave the Royal Navy and live out the remainder of his life in luxurious comfort, but he would never again be happy if his honor was sullied by the appearance of breaking an engagement between Julia and Drake. She would not allow that to happen to him.