Never Less Than a Lady (11 page)

Julia found her return to Rose Cottage anticlimactic. She knocked at the door several times with no response, and the door was locked when she tried to open it. During her years in Hartley, the cottage had almost never been locked.

“Probably Jenny Watson is just out for a few hours,” Randall said.

“I hope you’re right.” Julia moved to her left and felt under the sill of the parlor window. Good, the key was still there. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, then gave a sigh of relief. “All looks well.”

The house was neat and felt lived in. Julia could see bread rising in a bowl back in the kitchen. She smiled when her tabby cat appeared and stropped her ankles. Scooping up the cat, she asked, “How are you, Whiskers?”

“It doesn’t look as if she’s missed many meals,” Mackenzie observed. The cottage looked very small with two large men in it.

“Life goes on, and Jenny and Whiskers seem to have adjusted to my departure.” The relief was huge.

“Is it strange being back here?” Randall asked.

“Yes.” Julia frowned as she thought about her reaction. “Everything looks the same, but my life has been turned upside down. I was Mrs. Bancroft for so many years, useful and safe. Now Mrs. Bancroft is gone forever.”

“She never really existed,” he said quietly.

“I suppose not.” But Mrs. Bancroft had felt very real for years.

“Will it take long for you to collect your belongings?” he asked.

Julia shook her head. Few things from her career as a midwife would be needed in her new life. “By the time I’ve finished, Jenny and Molly should be back from wherever they’ve gone so I can reassure them, and say good-bye.”

Randall hesitated. “I need to go up to Hartley Manor. Everyone there will want to know that you’re safe, and I need to be sure that Grand Turk was returned properly. But I don’t want to leave you alone.”

They’d all been watchful on the drive between Carlisle and Hartley. Though there had been no sign of Crockett or his men, Julia could see that Randall was still wary.

“I’ll stay with Lady Julia,” Mackenzie said. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”

Randall relaxed. “Good. On the way back through the village, I’ll book us rooms at the inn. I won’t be gone long.”

“I’ll be fine,” Julia reassured him. “No need to worry.”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “But Hartley is the one place Crockett can watch where there’s a good chance you will return.”

Mackenzie looked hopeful. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of excitement.”

Julia shuddered. “I much prefer boredom.”

Randall grinned. “I shall attempt to make our marriage as boring as possible.”

As Mackenzie laughed, Randall kissed Julia’s cheek lightly and left. As the carriage rattled away, Julia asked, “Would you like a cup of tea or a draft of my ginger beer, Mr. Mackenzie?”

“The ginger beer would be pleasant.” Mackenzie strolled into the kitchen after her. She poured a tall flagon of the fragrant, slightly bubbly brew. When he tasted it, he said, “Excellent. If you ever run away from Randall to start a new life, you could become a brewer.”

Julia winced as she poured herself a small glass. “I can’t really joke about that.”

“Sorry. My sense of humor is deplorable.” His voice turned serious. “But I assure you, Randall is nothing like Branford.”

“You knew my first husband?”

“Our paths crossed in London occasionally.” Mackenzie grimaced. “Most memorably when I had the bad judgment to beat him at cards in some gambling hell. He accused me of cheating, but I was known there and Branford had made himself unpopular, so he was thrown out. Naturally he blamed me for the humiliation, so he and a couple of his cronies laid in wait and attacked me when I left. Pure luck that they didn’t beat me to death.”

That sounded horribly like Branford. “How did you escape?”

“Ashton was driving by on his way home from some more respectable establishment. He saw the fight and recognized me, so he stopped his carriage. Branford and his bully boys ran off.”

Trust Ashton to be in the right place when needed. “Did you consider reporting the attack to a magistrate?”

Mackenzie shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d get very far with criminal charges since he was Lord Branford, heir to an earldom, and I was a bastard of dubious reputation. Since I was about to leave London anyhow, I chalked up the incident to education and made a note to steer clear of bad losers.”

Julia wondered if Branford could have been curbed if he had ever suffered consequences for his bad behavior. But family wealth and influence had protected him from justice. The only man who had the least influence with Branford was his father, and the earl believed his precious son could do no wrong. She finished her ginger beer. “Time I started packing.”

She set her glass aside and headed to her old bedroom. Nothing had been changed. It looked as if Jenny had hoped Julia would return. Or perhaps she had trouble believing the house was really hers. After today, it truly would be. Julia had bequeathed the cottage in her hasty last will and testament. Since she wasn’t dead, she would legally transfer the title before leaving Hartley. Jenny and her daughter would have the security of a home for the future.

Most of Julia’s mementoes were stored in the bottom drawer of a small dresser. A few pieces of jewelry from her mother, not valuable but cherished. A book of poetry from her grandmother, other bits and pieces from her earlier life. A pebble from the shore given to her by Molly when the child had crawled happily on the beach. Nothing from her first marriage. Julia carried the mementoes of that on her body.

As she packed her past into the carpetbag, she thought about the two days that had passed since her spectacularly melodramatic wedding night. Traveling in the close confines of a carriage was not a bad way to become more relaxed with one’s husband. With Mackenzie present, Julia and Randall didn’t talk about anything important, but by the time they stopped at an inn for their first night on the road, she was able to face sharing a room with her husband. She had been embarrassingly grateful when he wordlessly made up a bed for himself on the floor.

One step at a time.

After packing the items from her dresser, Julia went through her desk and the rest of the cottage, but added little to her carpetbag. Even the medical notes she’d maintained on her patients needed to stay for Jenny to use.

Since neither Jenny nor Randall had returned, Julia sought out Mackenzie, who was sprawled comfortably in the front room. “Packing took even less time than I thought,” she said. “I’m going to walk down to the shore to say good-bye to the sea.”

He drained his flagon and set it aside. “I’ll go with you.”

“To be honest, I’d rather go alone. Really, I don’t think protection is necessary.”

“Randall would have my hide for a rug if I don’t accompany you.” Mackenzie got to his feet. His head almost touched the low ceiling. “Best write Randall a note so that when he returns, he’ll know where we are.”

She could imagine how Randall would react if he found the cottage empty, so she scribbled a note and pinned it to the front door. Then she set off, Mackenzie at her side.

“How far is it to the shore?” he asked.

“Only a ten-minute walk. There isn’t a place in Hartley that isn’t close to the sea.” She’d loved that about her adopted home.

Julia led the way along a lane that ran between hills dotted with grazing sheep. They emerged onto a narrow sand and shingle beach bordered by the stone wall that kept the sheep from wandering into the sea. Mackenzie asked, “Is this where Ashton’s drowned body washed up?”

“Not quite drowned, and no, he was on the other side of this little peninsula, just below Hartley Manor.” She pointed to the south. “Thank God Mariah found him. By morning, he probably would have died of exposure.”

She strolled along the firm, dark sand, avoiding the water-smoothed stones and tangles of seaweed. This little beach had been her private retreat, a place to visit when she needed peace. She loved the timelessness of the sea. Perhaps sensing that, Mackenzie stayed several steps behind her.

Ka-bang!!
A sharp crack of sound echoed over the water, followed a moment later by a second crack. Sand spurted into the air inches ahead of her. Surely not bullets…?

Swearing, Mackenzie grabbed Julia and yanked her down behind the stone wall that bounded the pasture. She gasped for breath as he sprawled half on top of her, protecting her with his own body.

Her watchdog magically produced a pistol from somewhere. With crisp efficiency, he primed the pistol and raised his head above the wall to snap off a shot. The report was deafening, so close to Julia’s ears.

Mackenzie ducked below the wall as his fire was returned. Reloading, he said mildly, “I’d say your pursuers have found us.”

Julia’s heart hammered with shock, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “Apparently Randall was right.”

Two more bullets cracked through the air. Mackenzie glanced at the sand to see where the balls were striking. “There are two men and they have us pinned down. We’re safe for now because they aren’t great marksmen. Since the pasture provides no cover, they can’t come after us without getting shot, but we can’t retreat, either. Stalemate.”

“For how long?” She reached under her hip to remove a sharp-edged stone. She’d have bruises in the morning.

Mackenzie shrugged as he peered above the wall again. He ducked as another bullet cracked by. “Not long. Randall will hear the shots and take care of the villains when he returns from the manor.”

Thinking he sounded too casual, she said tartly, “You have great faith in Randall’s abilities.”

“It’s not misplaced.” He fired over the wall. The shot was returned twofold.

There was something familiar in the way he moved, and after a moment she placed it. “You were in the army also?”

“I served under Randall in Portugal.” Mackenzie gave her a pirate’s grin. “But I was cashiered and returned to England.”

Cashiered. Dismissed from his rank. But not, she was sure, for cowardice. “A woman?” she guessed.

He laughed. “You’re entirely too perceptive.”

When she moved to find a more comfortable position, Mackenzie placed a large hand on her shoulder and pressed her to the ground again. “Don’t wiggle. This wall isn’t very high.”

“You’re in more danger than I because more of you shows,” she pointed out.

He shrugged again. “As I said, they’re damned poor shots.”

The next minutes passed with agonizing slowness. Every now and then, their attackers would fire again, and Mackenzie would shoot back to keep them from approaching. Julia lay on the cold sand, rough stones behind her back, wishing she’d been more appreciative of the quiet life when she’d had one.

Another shot rang out. Mackenzie cocked his head. “Randall is moving in.”

She stared at him. “How can you tell?”

“The sound of his carbine. Different from what the other two are shooting.”

“You have some interesting skills, Mr. Mackenzie,” she said dryly.

“None of them useful for earning a respectable living.” He checked his pistol, then rose to a crouch. “I’ll go lend a hand. Even the odds.”

She grabbed his arm to pull him down. “You’ll be shot!”

“Randall will keep their heads down,” Mackenzie explained as he detached her hand. “Since I have a good idea where the devils are, he and I should be able to finish this up quickly. You stay low until it’s safe. Randall or I will come for you then.”

Then he was gone, moving rapidly for someone who was bent over and using whatever cover he could find. Julia lay still as the stone wall, counting her heartbeats. Hard to believe that only minutes were passing when the time seemed endless.

There was a flurry of shots. She shuddered, unable to tell one gun from another. Worse, she heard a man scream. Another cry—the same man or another? Was it Randall’s voice? She couldn’t be sure.

Her instinct was to get up and see if anyone was wounded, but she’d be a fool to make herself a target. Her fingers bit into the sand as she fought to control her tension.

Julia closed her eyes and prayed that her husband and Mackenzie would be safe. She knew her anxiety was out of place—Randall was doubtless as confident of success as Mackenzie. But she was a civilian and entitled to be terrified.

“Julia!”
Carbine in hand, Randall raced down to the small beach. Surely she was safe, but he needed to see for himself.

Her small form erupted from behind the stone wall as she hurled herself into his arms. “I was so worried you’d be hurt! What happened? Is Mr. Mackenzie all right?”

He caught her close, feeling her pounding heart. He was sorry that she had been so upset, but it felt amazingly good to know she had been concerned for him. “Two attackers,” he said succinctly. “One dead, the other fled. Neither was Crockett. Mac was grazed by a bullet, but nothing serious.”

She exhaled with relief and held onto him for a moment longer before stepping back. “I’d better take a look at his injury. You’re sure the other man is dead?”

“Quite.” Guessing that Julia would just as soon not know any details, he kept a protective arm around her as they headed up the lane.

The dead man lay in the lane at the top of the hill, his coat draped over his face. Mackenzie sat on the stone wall a few feet away, his face white. Julia examined the crude binding Randall had done on Mac’s left forearm before coming for her. There were scarlet stains on the cravat he’d used for the bandage, but the bleeding had stopped.

“This should be cleaned and dressed again, but you’ll do for now.” She studied Mac’s face with a frown. “Is that your only wound? You look on the verge of shock.”

“He doesn’t like the sight of blood,” Randall explained.

Julia blinked. “Surely that made life in the army difficult, Mr. Mackenzie.”

“I don’t mind other people’s blood,” Mac said indignantly. “It’s
my
blood that makes me go all queasy.”

Randall gave Julia credit for not smiling. Gravely she said, “Can you manage the walk back to my cottage? I can fix you up properly there.”

“The sooner the better.” Mac stood, swaying.