Ransome's Honor (8 page)

Across the carriage from him, Miss Witherington’s brows knit together. “Do not you think though, Captain Ransome, the revenues from the taxes could better be used to stimulate economic growth—to create jobs for those men now without employment?”

The admiral
harumphed
but continued to smile at her. “There are few in the Royal Navy who would agree with you, my dear.”

“You have spoken only to those who are still employed, sir.” Her eyes sparkled and her full lips turned up. “Were you to inquire of those officers and sailors now wondering how to put the next meal on their tables whether they would like the creation of more jobs, they perhaps would agree with me—hardship in the short term to bring about greater good in the future.”

The admiral nudged William’s elbow with his own. “My dear Julia, were the circumstances reversed—if, instead of record high prices for sugar we currently enjoy, we could not sell it for enough to pay for shipping it to England, and yet Parliament refused to lower the tariff, would you not argue in favor of lowering the tariff?”

“Nay, Papa.” A mischievous smile lighted her face, recalling to William the memory of the girl he’d known. “I would argue in favor of selling our sugar elsewhere.”

“You see, Ransome? Wise as a serpent, and harmless as a dove, as a woman should be.”

Miss Witherington reached up a gloved hand to push back the curls blowing into her face, bringing attention to her burning cheeks, her downcast eyes, and the disappearance of her smile. William had thought the words, quoted from Scripture, to be complimentary. Why should she have a negative reaction to them?

The barouche rolled to a stop in front of the Whitestone Inn. Admiral Witherington descended first and was immediately hailed by two admirals leaving the establishment. William stepped down and then turned and offered his hand to Miss Witherington.

“Ah, Captain Ransome, Miss Witherington.” The shorter of the two admirals stepped forward. William did not like the suspicious gleam in the superior officer’s eyes as he looked pointedly at Julia’s hand, held loosely in William’s.

As soon as both her feet were on the cobblestone, Miss Witherington moved toward the inn, putting her father between them. But William was certain that rumors of a sighting of him and Julia Witherington together would soon be making the rounds at the dockyard.

He forced his attention back to the admiral and Collin, consternated he had given so much attention and thought to discerning Julia Witherington’s countenance and behavior. He had been back in Portsmouth less than a week and was already well aware of the rumors and speculation running rampant among the officers concerning himself and Miss Witherington and what supposedly happened between them twelve years ago.

William shook his head and returned his attention to his companions. He’d let the gossipmongers get to him.

“Ransome, why so silent?” Admiral Witherington’s booming voice broke through William’s thoughts. “You’ve yet to tell us of your capture of the French man-o’-war off the coast of Brest this winter. Quite the tidy sum when that prize paid out.”

William allowed his superior to cajole the story out of him. The harrowing experience of almost losing his own ship before the heated battle turned in his favor still awakened him in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.

William kept his gaze on Sir Edward. “If it had not been for the superior skills of my officers—especially my sailing master—all would have been lost. The French ship had the weather gauge on us—they were bearing down with all guns run out. But my sailing master has a nose for the wind...swears he can smell when it shifts. He called for us to tack and beat to starboard, even though the wind came from the southeast.”

Admiral Witherington shook his head in disbelief. “To go into the prevailing wind. Unthinkable.”

Julia leaned forward, her brow furrowed.

William ignored the sensation of pleasure at having her hanging on his every word. “But he was right, sir. By the time
Alexandra
came about, the wind had shifted to the north. We were run out on both sides, they just on the larboard. We had them at sixes and sevens, and before they could recover, we had downed their mainmast and one of the sharpshooters had felled their captain.”

“But if your master had been wrong—” Julia’s cheeks reddened. “You must have implicit trust in your crew.”

The softness in her wide green eyes quelled the resentment that rose at her questioning his decision. “It was a dangerous move, to be sure. And had my crew been less experienced, had we not been together for more than two years, I might not have listened. But experience has taught me to listen to my men.”

Collin thumped his shoulder. “A good crew is a reflection of their captain.

“Well said, Yates!” Sir Edward slapped his open palm on the table.

Heat climbed the back of William’s neck at the compliment, and he was grateful the admiral turned his attention to Collin.

Across the table, Susan cut her eyes toward Julia and then gave William a sly smile. He bit the inside of his cheek and pressed his lips together to maintain a pleasant demeanor. He had to live with Collin and Susan the next three weeks until
Alexandra
came out of dry dock. The last thing he needed was Susan trying to turn the clock back twelve years and make William regret his decision not to marry Julia more than he already did.

Chapter Six

D
id you enjoy London, Sir Drake?”

“Oh, very much, my lady” Drake turned on all of his charm for the dowager viscountess. Mother said she would be important to have on their side.

“In what part of Town is your home?” Lady Dalrymple smiled as she pinned him with her mismatched brown and blue eyes.

“We are not fortunate enough—yet—to have a house in London,” his mother hastened to explain. “Drake took a house near Harley Street.”
Near
did not quite describe the distance between his somewhat shabby quarters and the most fashionable addresses in London. “He was received by all the best families.”

Lady Dalrymple paid little attention to Drake’s mother. “Did you meet, by chance, Lord Winston Everingham?”

His stomach curdled. He had met the Count of Southey, his paramour’s husband. “Yes, my lady.”

“And how fares my cousin?”

His insides knotted. Had Margaret, in her anger over discovering Drake’s intention to marry the Harworth heiress, told anyone of their affair? “He is well, as far as I know. I met him only twice, at the theatre and at a ball.”

The dowager viscountess pressed her lips together and nodded. “I must remember to write him a letter soon. I’ve not yet met his new wife, and I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“As a man offering his opinion on the beauty of another man’s wife, may I say what you have heard is correct. She is a beauty, in her way.”

“Speaking of beauties, have you made the acquaintance of your cousin Julia yet? Since she arrived this past winter, she has created quite the stir among the eligible young men and officers.”

Drake shifted in his seat, grateful for the change of subject. “I had the pleasure of dining with her last week. And I understand there is a concert tonight at which we shall be in company together again.”

“Oh, those dreaded concerts. I never have had any appreciation for music—especially Italian arias sung by screeching sopranos. Speaking of dinner with Julia, I understand we are all to dine together with them Thursday evening.”

Beside him, his mother blanched. “You are attending? Wh—what a pleasure that will be. But you do understand, my lady, that most of the people in attendance will be of the Royal Navy—all, in fact, excepting Drake and me?”

“Naturally—and that is why I am looking forward to it so much.” Lady Dalrymple’s mismatched eyes danced, though Drake could not imagine why.

“We shall look forward to your company.” His mother showed all of her teeth when she smiled, looking something like a snarling animal.

Lady Dalrymple looked beyond Drake’s shoulder. “Yes? What is it?”

The butler stood in the doorway of the ostentatious sitting room. “I do apologize, my lady, but Baroness Fairfax has arrived.”

“Ah, good. Please show her in.”

Drake stood and bowed as his mother curtsied in greeting to Lady Fairfax, a portly, silly-looking woman.

“I see we have nearly overstayed our welcome.” His mother grabbed his elbow in a painful grip. “We shall take our leave of you.”

“I shall see you both on Thursday.” Lady Dalrymple inclined her head toward them. “You must tell me more of your thoughts on your cousin then, Sir Drake.”

They exchanged farewells and showed themselves out of the room. Drake followed his mother downstairs and out to their ancient coach. He handed her up and then climbed in, closing the door behind him. The enclosed conveyance trapped the stifling summer air. He longed to strip down to his elegant linen shirt—well, it had been elegant a few years ago. But propriety, always propriety.

Augusta snapped open her fan and waved it vigorously before her flushed face. “You must be cautious—Jane Dalrymple is cunning. She might know more about your connection with Lady Everingham than she revealed. It is vital you stay in her good graces. She is the highest ranking woman in Portsmouth, and she quite dotes upon Julia.”

“Yes, I picked up on that. And you need not remind me of my duty. I understood it the first several times you explained it on the trip here.”

“Do not get saucy with me, boy.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Now, tonight at the concert, be sure to arrive early. The admiral will keep Julia surrounded by naval officers. If you are to have any chance of gaining her affection, you must be at her side from the moment she walks in the door.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“You must ingratiate yourself with her quickly. I know you are capable of making her madly in love with you by the concert’s end. But she does like to have her say-so about anything that comes into her mind. Do not talk to her of fashion or London—she despises those topics.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Lavish attention on her—I think she will respond well to it, as she has had little experience with a real gentleman paying his addresses to her.”

Drake wished the narrow carriage windows opened wider so he could stick his head out into the wind. Sweat trickled down his spine and the sides of his face. “Yes, Mother.”

“And above all—do not mention her financial situation. She has complained on many occasions of the young men who court her, trying to gain her wealth.”

He let out a rueful laugh. “Is not that what I am doing?”

“Yes. But what she does not know will make your task easier.”

His task. When had wooing a wealthy woman become a task rather than an enjoyable pursuit? Well, if he was not going to enjoy the pursuit of Miss Julia Witherington, perhaps he could quietly find someone else who could make his confinement here as pleasant as possible.

Suddenly, tonight’s gathering of what was considered society in Portsmouth did not seem quite so unpalatable.

The quiet of the ride home began to ease the tension from Julia’s shoulders. She had not missed the implication of Admiral Glover’s amused wink at her when William assisted her from the carriage. Now with Collin home, perhaps he and William would occupy each other’s time until William’s departure in August, allowing her to spend time with Susan without the worry of running into him at their house.

Creighton opened the front door and took her gloves and hat before suggesting she take her rest and tea in the back parlor.

“Have tea sent to my room, please.” She started up the stairs. “I must finish auditing the Tierra Dulce account books.”

“Very good, miss. What time shall I send Nancy to you?”

She stopped at the first landing. “For what?”

“To help you prepare for dinner.”

“I do not need help dressing for a family dinner, thank you, Creighton.

“No, miss, nor would I suggest such a thing. However, you may want assistance preparing for the concert afterward.”

Julia groaned. She’d forgotten they were expected at the assembly hall for a concert tonight. “Best send her to me an hour before dinner, then.” She trudged up the two flights of stairs to her room and threw open the large windows as soon as she entered to try to clear the stuffiness. Portsmouth had finally attained a respectable level of warmth, making the breeze off the harbor necessary.

She released her hair from the pins and let it tumble freely down to her waist. Standing in the window, the sun beaming down on her face, she massaged her scalp and finger-combed the tangles away.

In the front garden of the house across the lane, a young girl sat under a rose bower, poking away at a piece of needlework, her governess sitting nearby reading. Julia sighed. What kind of life did the child have to look forward to? Attending concerts, card parties, balls, dinners. Pretending interest in suitors pursuing her for her money. Hoping for a kind husband with whom she might have a good marriage.

The girl looked up and waved. Julia smiled and waved in return. The governess gave Julia an appraising look and spoke to the child, and then both disappeared into the house. Yes, best not let the mite look upon the spinster too long for fear her condition may be catching.

The young miss might not have much to look forward to, but Julia had a plantation to oversee. She crossed to her desk and opened the ledger, but the numbers swam before her eyes.

A housemaid entered with the tea tray, set it on the table near the fireplace, curtseyed, and left as silently as she entered. Julia left the desk to pour a cup and found she did not want to return to the ledger. Instead, she picked up the novel she had borrowed from her father’s library and returned to the window seat.

Try as she might to concentrate on the story, the words slipped by unnoticed while thoughts of a certain naval captain plagued her.

She thrust the book aside and returned to the ledger. When she added the numbers in a column incorrectly three times, she finally forced herself to concentrate. She couldn’t allow Tierra Dulce to develop financial problems simply because she could not discipline her thoughts.

The fourth time she added the numbers, she came up with the same total as before. Something was off, and it was not simply a difference in bookkeeping methods. With renewed interest in the ledgers, she delved into the entries, trying to find out where the error lay.

Nancy tapped on the door and entered. Julia looked at her and then at the clock. “Goodness, I did not realize how the time had slipped away from me.” With regret, she set aside her work and moved to her dressing table. “I believe I would like to wear my hair down tonight.”

Horror rounded the maid’s mouth. “Oh, no. I cannot allow you to do that, miss. Lady Pembroke—”

Julia patted Nancy’s hand that grasped the silver brush with white-knuckle intensity. “I will contend with my aunt. Have no fear—I will not let it reflect poorly on your performance.” From her jewelry box, Julia withdrew a pair of carved mahogany combs decorated with scroll-work in mother-of-pearl. With dexterity born from years of experience, Julia swept the sides of her hair back and secured it with the combs. The wood was nearly the same color as her hair, but the opalescent, inlaid shell sparkled. A few shorter wisps of hair lay in loose spirals by her temples and ears.

Although Nancy suggested one of Julia’s white dresses, Julia went down to dinner in a green silk organza. When she reached the first floor landing, her father exited his study.

“You look lovely, my dear.” He escorted her down to the ground floor, where Julia had the pleasure of receiving Creighton’s approving expression as he opened the dining room door for them. Footsteps on the stairs followed by a sharp intake of breath behind them made Julia turn.

Her aunt’s thin, dark brows pulled together, wrinkling her pale forehead. “I do not believe you should go out in public with your hair unbound like a schoolgirl.”

“If I cannot wear my hair however I like, I shan’t go.” Julia took her seat, not in the least ashamed of acting like the child her aunt accused her of resembling.

Lady Pembroke sputtered, color rising in her face.

Sir Edward squeezed Julia’s shoulder. “My dear Lady Pembroke, is it more important for Julia to attend the concert or that she wear her hair a certain way?”

“She will be the laughingstock of all Portsmouth society, such as it is. The gossip of how she defies convention and goes her own way will ruin her reputation.”

Mirth bubbled up in Julia and escaped as a laugh. “I believe, Aunt, my reputation as a ‘right old spinster’ will remain intact whether I wear my hair up or down.”