Never Less Than a Lady (25 page)

After dining, Julia and Randall spent a peaceful evening in the library. She read while he wrote several letters. He didn’t make any foolish suggestions about her finding new lovers, which was a relief.

When the clock struck ten, she rose and covered a yawn. “I’m going to bed, but I’ll check on Benjamin first. I hope he doesn’t find a real bed too strange.”

Randall grinned. “As long as he has his cat, I imagine he’ll sleep well.”

Benjamin had been given a room in the opposite wing from the master’s rooms. Not wanting to wake him, Julia opened the door without knocking. The maid had left a night lamp burning so he wouldn’t wake and be upset by strange surroundings.

Benjamin was a small lump in the bed. Miss Kitty lay on his other side, and she raised her head to stare at the intruder. Julia was about to withdraw when she heard a muffled sob.

Frowning, she crossed the room. Benjamin instantly pulled the covers over his head, but he couldn’t stifle his sobs. She perched on the side of the bed and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Benjamin? Too many changes?” Change was upsetting, even good changes, as she could attest.

He pulled the covers down enough to reveal his tear-smudged face. “I…I was thinking of my mam,” he said haltingly. “What she’d think to see me here.”

“Your mother would be happy,” Julia said softly. “She wanted the best for you.”

“It was best when I was with
her
.”

“I know.” Julia sighed. “I lost my mother when I was about your age.” She stroked his blanket-covered shoulder. “I missed her dreadfully. But I had other family to care for me, and now you do, too.”

Benjamin began shaking with more sobs. He’d learned to be tough to survive at Hill Farm, but he was still a little boy. Julia bent over to kiss the top of his head, and he swarmed into her arms.

“My mam would always come to kiss me good night,” he said thickly. “Then she died and left me alone.”

“You aren’t alone now, Benjamin.” Julia hugged him close. Though he was no blood kin of hers, she was beginning to feel that he was. Not as a surrogate for the baby she’d lost, but for himself: a lost child struggling for survival. “I swear it.”

His sobs faded as she stroked his head, and he drifted into sleep. Julia tucked him back under the covers under the cool green gaze of Miss Kitty, who hadn’t moved during the drama. The cat was adapting to life in a manor house with more ease than her master.

Julia left the room quietly. She and Randall had done a good day’s work when they brought Benjamin home. Even Randall thought so, despite his initial doubts.

Feeling optimistic, she headed to her bed.

A week at Roscombe transformed Benjamin Thomas into a fair approximation of a young gentleman. Julia was amused and touched at how carefully Ben observed her and Randall, copying their speech and manners, and he had plenty of opportunities since the three of them took all their meals together. He was amazingly quick. His country accent was disappearing fast, though it reappeared when he was excited.

The boy’s mind was as hungry as his body. Julia tutored him in the afternoons, working on his reading and arithmetic and giving him a grounding in history and geography. Roscombe had a good library, and Benjamin was usually to be found there when he wasn’t otherwise engaged.

In the mornings, Randall took the boy riding. He reported that Benjamin was a natural with horses and would make a first-class rider.

In return, Benjamin hero-worshipped Randall. Julia tucked the boy in every night. They talked about his day, she answered some of his endless questions, then kissed him good night. It had taken only three days for Benjamin to outgrow his earlier ambition to become a coachman. Now, he confided to Julia, he wanted to become an army officer. She thought that might be a good career for him. But he would have plenty of time to decide.

He hadn’t even gone to school yet, and already she was missing him.

The day before they were to leave for London, Randall announced at breakfast, “Benjamin, you’ve worked hard and deserve a holiday. The village fair starts today and it’s so close we can walk. Would you like to go this afternoon? We can make a family outing of it.”

“Oh, yes, sir!” Benjamin beamed.

Julia was equally pleased at the idea of the three of them being a family. Would Benjamin help bind her and Randall together? If so, all the more reason to love the boy.

“I swear that lad has grown an inch in the last week,” Julia said fondly as she watched Benjamin laughing at a Punch and Judy show with a group of other children.

“At the least, he’s put on some much needed weight,” Randall agreed. “He’s making up for the hungry times.”

Thinking of Benjamin’s appetite, she asked, “Is the food good at the Westerfield Academy?”

“Very. Lady Agnes knows that well-fed males of any age are less likely to cause trouble.” Randall’s voice lowered. “Here come more neighborhood gentry to be introduced. You’re a source of great interest, milady.”

“It’s only natural. You’re a large local landowner and a local hero as well. Of course people are happy that you’re finally settling down at Roscombe.” Julia smiled at the older couple that approached.

Wisely, the gentleman introduced himself and his wife as Sir Geoffrey and Lady Bridges, probably guessing that after so many years away, Randall might be unsure of names. But his mother’s family had lived in Gloucestershire for generations, and he was seen as part of the community. Sir Geoffrey and his wife were very welcoming.

After a few minutes of chat, the Bridges moved on and Julia took Randall’s arm again. It was a beautiful day for a fair, sunny and with the first snap of autumn in the air. A good day to celebrate the last week of progress.

Julia had begun to relax since Randall had made no more cool comments about ending their marriage. Perhaps their silent, searing nights were changing his mind. She wanted to believe their relationship was special. If it wasn’t—she’d rather not know.

During the next hours, Julia met a dizzying number of people. She and Randall performed the traditional fair activities of admiring livestock and jugglers while sampling food from vendors. Julia skipped the sausage on a stick since her stomach wasn’t in the mood, but she enjoyed the fresh lemonade, apple tarts, and the toasted cheese on bread.

Benjamin came to find them every half hour or so, as if fearing they might have vanished. Once he’d reassured himself, he would bounce off to join the local boys again.

After one such flying visit, Randall observed, “He seems not to have been damaged by his years with Jeb Gault. Getting along well with other boys is a good omen for his going to school and for life in general.”

Julia nodded. “His mother gets the credit, I think. She had him for the first nine years of his life, and that set him on the right path.” She covered a yawn. “I’m tired. Meeting so many people, I suppose.”

“Are you ready to go home?” Randall asked. “We’ve seen just about everything there is to see, and it will be dusk soon.”

“I’d like that.” She shaded her eyes. “Where did Benjamin go?”

“Over there by the game booths. It looks like he’s trying his arm on throwing the balls.” Randall took Julia’s arm and they headed in the boy’s direction. “He’s old enough to stay on his own longer if he wishes. I’ll give him another half crown if he wants to treat some of his new friends to cakes.”

Benjamin was intent on his target and didn’t see them approach the ball-throwing booth. Stuffed heads of Napoleon in three sizes sat on a ledge. With his first throw, he knocked the largest off the ledge. There was a smattering of applause.

He tossed the second ball a couple of times, getting the feel of it, then threw again. The middle-sized Napoleon went flying. “Well done, lad!” the proprietor of the booth called. “Do you think you can get the smallest Boney? He’s a tricky one, he is.”

Eyes narrowed, Benjamin tested the weight of the third ball, then wound up and hurled it across the booth. The ball smacked Napoleon right between the eyes. This time the applause was louder. If the proprietor was disappointed to have a winner, he concealed it well. “Your choice of a fairing from that shelf. Maybe a toy soldier?”

Benjamin looked longingly at the small soldiers, but shook his head. “One of those ribbons. The blue-green one.”

“Aha, you have a lady to please!” The proprietor extracted the long blue-green ribbon from a bouquet of differently colored ribbons and presented it with a flourish.

Grinning, Benjamin turned away, then blinked in surprise when he saw Julia and Randall behind him. Randall said, “We’re going to leave now, but you can stay until dark if you like.”

“No, I’ll go with you.” Benjamin said quick good-byes to the boys he’d met, then set off beside Randall.

“You’ve got a good arm,” Randall said as they left the fairground and took the path that led through the woods to Roscombe. “Have you done any cricket bowling?”

“Sometimes we’d play in the village when I was little. Do they play cricket at the Westerfield Academy?” Benjamin asked hopefully.

“Indeed they do. There are other sports, too.”

“I’ll like that.” Benjamin glanced up at Julia, his expression shy. “I got the ribbon for you. I thought the color would look nice in your hair.”

Julia’s heart melted when he offered her the cheap ribbon. “How lovely!” she exclaimed. She immediately tied it around a lock of her hair. “You have good taste. A duke’s daughter who understands fashion picked the same color for the gown I wore to my first London ball.”

Benjamin looked as if he would burst with pride. As he skipped ahead of them on the path, Julia said softly, “He really is a fine lad. He fits in so well here.”

“I wouldn’t have believed Branford could have such a good son,” Randall agreed. “I hope that Daventry appreciates Benjamin. And doesn’t try to take him away.”

“Could he do that legally?” Julia asked with quick concern.

“I’m not sure. He was never named legal guardian. Since I’m also a blood relation, I would have some legal standing if there’s a dispute.” Randall’s voice turned dry. “Daventry will probably be so excited about his new heir that he won’t have a lot of interest in a bastard grandson.”

“We can only hope.” Julia wondered again if it would be best not to tell Daventry of Benjamin’s existence. But he was bound to find out eventually. Like Randall, she hoped that the earl would be so absorbed by the birth of a new son that he would acknowledge his grandson, but not want to take possession of him.

Glancing up at Randall, she saw that his expression was very alert and he was scanning the woods on both sides. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

He gave her a quick smile. “As long as I live, I’ll probably think of places like this as ambush territory. The perils of a military career.”

She looked up at the trees, with beams of late afternoon sunshine shafting through the branches. Birds trilled their songs and a squirrel scolded from a branch.

It was an immensely peaceful scene, but Randall’s words reminded her of the carriage incident in London. Might danger be lurking among the bushes? The afternoon looked a little less peaceful.

She told herself not to be foolish, but couldn’t help studying the windowless old hut by the path ahead. Some kind of farm storage structure, but as Benjamin scampered past it, Julia realized that the small building could provide cover for villains.

“Having an imagination is a nuisance,” she said wryly as they came alongside the hut. “Now that you’ve made me aware of the possibilities, I can see danger everywhere…”

The hut exploded.

Ears ringing from the blast, Julia went flying through the air as Randall caught her in a rolling dive that carried them to the far side of the path, away from the explosion. Debris rained down around them, but she was safe under her husband’s shielding body. Except for his blood, which was pouring onto her face. She gasped, “Alex?”

In the sudden silence that followed the explosion, Benjamin gave a wordless scream. She heard his feet pounding back along the path toward them as she dragged herself out from under her husband’s still body.

Randall rolled limply onto his back, eyes closed and blood pouring from a long, jagged laceration on the left side of his head. Blood was so much more shocking against blond hair than dark, she thought dizzily. But he wouldn’t bleed like that if he were dead.

Reminding herself that head wounds bled like the very devil, Julia dug a folded handkerchief from her reticule. Then, hands shaking, she yanked the scarf off her bonnet and used it as a bandage to secure the handkerchief pad over the bleeding wound. As Benjamin dropped to his knees beside her, she applied pressure on the pad over the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding.

“Lady Julia, what happened?” Benjamin gasped, his voice frantic. “Is Major Randall dead?”

Randall’s eyes flickered open. “I’m well…enough. Not dying.”

“But you will be.” Grinning with satisfaction, Joseph Crockett emerged from the woods, a double-barreled shotgun in his hands. “You’re quick, Randall. If you hadn’t grabbed your bitch wife and jumped away from the explosion, you’d already be food for buzzards. Now you get to see death coming.”

As he spoke, a similarly armed subordinate stepped from the woods at the left, his face like granite. Julia recognized the burly man as Crockett’s most frightening associate when they’d kidnapped her.

Looking at Crockett’s mad, hating eyes, she wondered how she could ever have believed he would be satisfied with anything less than her death. Shaking and dizzy, she stumbled to her feet, knowing there was only a faint chance she could save Randall and Benjamin, but she must try. “Shoot me and be done with it, Crockett. But leave my husband and the boy alone. They’ve done you no harm.”

“Wrong.” Crockett’s eyes were hard as agate. “Your precious major killed one of my men and has caused endless irritation. You’d be long since dead if not for him.” He gestured at Randall with his shotgun. “And if I leave him alive, he’ll come after me.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Randall said in a harsh whisper. Sprawled on his back and stained with blood, he already looked more dead than alive, but his gaze was icy as he watched Crockett. “But you don’t want to kill the boy.”

“Is he your bastard, Randall?” Crockett’s eyes flicked to Benjamin, who glared back with feral intensity. “I’ll enjoy wiping out your bloodline. O’ course, maybe you’ve scattered other bastards around.”

He transferred his gaze to Julia. “You’ll die last, your precious ladyship, since you’re helpless. I look forward to your screaming as you watch your men die.”

“Benjamin isn’t my bastard, Crockett,” Randall said with a twisted smile. “He’s Branford’s. Would you kill Branford’s only child?”

Crockett jerked in shock. “Branford left a son? He never told me!” His voracious gaze latched onto Benjamin’s face. “My God,” he breathed. “You’re telling me the truth. Was your mother that blowsy barmaid? Come here, boy. You I’ll keep. I’ll raise you like my own.”

“No!” Benjamin spat at Crockett, his eyes bright with tears.

“Do what he says, Benjamin.” Randall heaved himself up into a sitting position. Taking Benjamin’s hand, he said quietly, “If you want to be a soldier, you must learn to cut your losses. Crockett and his man are armed and we aren’t, so Julia and I don’t have a chance. But we’ll die happier if we know you’re safe. Do you understand what I’m saying? So go to Crockett. He’ll be better to you than Jeb Gault was.”

Benjamin blinked back his tears and nodded. Head down and hands shoved in his pockets, he moved reluctantly to Crockett’s side.

Randall looked up at Crockett. “You were a soldier, weren’t you?”

“Damned right. I was a sergeant, and I always hated bloody officers like you!” Crockett raised the shotgun to firing position.

Randall’s voice wavered. “As one soldier to another, will you let me die on my feet rather than being shot like a dog?”

Crockett hesitated, then jerked a nod. “If you can stand, I’ll shoot you then. But be quick about it. The explosion will draw people here any minute now.”

Randall raised his hand to Julia and she helped haul him to his feet. His grip was surprisingly strong, and there had been something wrong with his speech to Benjamin. Would Randall ever admit defeat like that?

She was trying to puzzle out that sense of wrongness when violence erupted again. As Crockett aimed at Randall, Benjamin grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and dragged it down with one hand. His other hand slashed across Crockett’s throat.

Blood spurted violently in all directions, including over Benjamin. Crockett made a horrible strangled sound, his expression stunned. Then he collapsed backward.

At the same instant that Benjamin attacked Crockett, Randall shoved Julia so that she once again tumbled to the ground. In one continuous flow of movement, he then hurled himself at Crockett’s subordinate. The man’s shotgun blasted as he fell backward, Randall on top as they crashed to the ground.

Shredded leaves exploded over the path as the pellets ripped into the tree, and the acrid stink of black powder filled the air. A moment later, Julia heard a horrible snapping sound and saw that the man’s neck was turned at a lethal angle.

Julia threw up, sickened by so much violence. But there was no time to indulge her queasy stomach. She scrambled to her feet. “Benjamin, are you all right?”

He was shaking and white-faced as he stared at the man he’d killed, then at the blood dripping from his small knife. He made a strangled sound and threw the knife away before hurling himself against Julia. As she wrapped her arms around him, she cried urgently, “Alex, did the shotgun miss you?”

“Yes. Barely.” Randall staggered to his feet, bracing one hand against a tree trunk when he wavered. “Crockett was right that people will be drawn by the noise any moment. Benjamin, you were superb, but let everyone think that I did all the killing.”

Benjamin raised the face that had been buried against Julia’s shoulder. “Why?”

“The authorities expect soldiers to kill. They get very worried when children do, even if it’s justified.” Weaving, Randall stumbled forward and half-fell into an embrace with Julia and Benjamin. “Better that…they not wonder about you.”

Especially since the boy was an orphan and illegitimate. Julia’s blood chilled as she thought what might happen to Benjamin if the authorities decided he needed to be punished. Thinking that when this was over she would be sick again, she asked, “You passed Benjamin your boot knife when you took his hand?”

Randall nodded. “He was clever enough to understand that we needed to work together. You’ll make a brilliant officer someday, Benjamin.”

The boy closed his eyes and hugged them both more tightly. Randall whispered into Julia’s ear, “He’s like me, Julia, not Branford. He killed because he had to.”

She knew her husband was right. In a distant corner of her mind, she was impressed at how perfectly Randall and Benjamin had worked together to stave off disaster. Almost like father and son.

But at the moment, Julia would like nothing better than to retreat to a convent full of gentle, loving women who wouldn’t raise a hand to a mosquito.

Julia managed to keep from falling apart until everything essential had been taken care of. Men came pounding in from the fair before the black powder smoke had cleared. With the three of them battered and covered with blood, Sir Geoffrey, who was the local magistrate, accepted Randall’s version of events without question.

Julia was quietly impressed at how Randall managed to explain what had happened, and imply that he’d killed both men without actually lying. He would have made a fine lawyer. Both Julia and Benjamin were largely silent. She was more than willing to take the role of frail, terrified female, and Benjamin was skilled in not talking.

It was almost dark by the time official statements had been made. After they returned to Roscombe Manor, Julia enlisted Gordon to bathe Benjamin. By the time the boy emerged from his bath, the local surgeon had arrived to bandage Randall’s head.

Benjamin hardly protested when she ordered him to bed. When she came to tuck him in, he had one arm around Miss Kitty and looked tired enough to sleep through until the next morning. Julia smoothed back his brown hair. “It was quite a day, wasn’t it? We’ll postpone our trip to London by a day. We all need to recover.”

“You don’t want to get rid of me?” Benjamin asked in a thin voice. “I saw your face when I killed that man.”

The boy noticed too much. She supposed it had been necessary for his survival. “I was upset,” she admitted. “My job has always been to fight death. But I’d rather see Crockett and his man die than to have him kill you and me and Major Randall. You were very clever and very brave. Despite my husband’s skill at fighting, I don’t think he could have saved us without you doing what you did.”

Benjamin reached up and patted the ribbon he’d given her, which was still tied in her hair. “That man Crockett deserved to die. I’m glad I killed him before he could hurt you or the major.”

It was a chilling statement from a boy so young, but entirely, dreadfully understandable. Julia just hoped Randall was right that Benjamin wasn’t like his father.

After kissing Benjamin good night, she went in search of the surgeon, who had finished examining Randall and bandaging his head properly. The injury was declared not life-threatening, and the surgeon gave Julia careful instructions on wound treatment. She didn’t bother to tell him that she probably had experience equal to his.

Julia ushered the surgeon out and returned to their shared bedroom. She didn’t want to disturb Randall if he was sleeping, but his eyes opened when she entered the room and turned down the lamp. She asked, “You really do need your own private surgeon. How are you feeling?”

“A headache and many fine bruises where bits of timber landed on me, but generally I feel well,” he said sleepily. “How about you? Being knocked to the ground twice surely left you with bruises, too.”

“A few. Very minor considering what might have happened.” She perched on the edge of the bed. “I should have known Crockett wouldn’t quit until I was dead. Not realizing that might have cost you and Benjamin your lives.”

“But didn’t. Don’t blame yourself. Even if we were sure that Crockett was behind that carriage accident in London, what could we have done about him until he showed himself?” Randall said reasonably. “Finding out where I live would have been easy. Then it was just a matter of waiting until we were vulnerable. I imagine he saw us walk to the fair and made his preparations to kill us when we returned home. Foolish of him to explode the hut, but perhaps he wanted our deaths to look accidental.”

Her brows arched. “Do huts explode on their own?”

“Sometimes, especially if grain has been stored in a closed building.” He covered a yawn. “It’s rare, though. Conditions have to be just right. Luckily, my instincts said something was wrong and I reacted in time to get us out of the way of the explosion. How is Benjamin?”

“Shaken but handling his first killing better than I would.”

“Benjamin really does have the makings of a first-class officer. The army is a good place for a young male with sharp edges. It worked for me.” Randall took her hand and pulled her down beside him. His voice softened. “Relax, milady. You’re safe now.”

Weary to the bone, she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Now that she was safe, would he think that she no longer needed his protection so he could leave at the end of the year?

Tonight, she was too tired to think about it.