Ransome's Honor (19 page)

And she could not allow her aunt to manipulate her into marrying the blackguard.

At home, Julia dismissed Nancy, needing time to think, to pray, to plan. She spent most of the night between her desk—madly scrawling possibilities and then scratching them out—and pacing.

If her father were here, none of this would be happening. But with a mere day and a half until the ball, she had no time to get word to him. That she had not yet heard from him since his arrival in London surprised her. He’d promised to write—and before now had always been a prompt correspondent.

No, she must do this on her own. She stopped and sank onto the window seat, leaden with weariness. No solution presented itself, nothing she could do on her own to extricate herself from this horrible situation.

God, is there no one who can help me? I do not understand why this is happening or what I am supposed to do about it. I cannot fight them alone...

An idea started to form, rising from the turmoil of her mind like the pink dawn that climbed the sky outside. With renewed energy, she returned to the desk and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. For the next hour, she wrote, scratched out, wrote more, considered, prayed, and planned.

Finally, with full morning light beaming through her windows, she sat back and wiped her ink-stained fingers. She read her notes carefully, looking for any flaws, any weaknesses.

It just might work.

She began a letter to Susan explaining—but stopped. No one else could be involved in this. If her plan failed, and it could, no one else need know what she was attempting. She tore the letter to bits and tossed the pieces in the hearth along with all but the last page of her notes. To ensure no one else learned of her idea, she lit them on fire and watched as they blackened and curled and disappeared into ash.

The mantel clock chimed six thirty. Her aunt would not rise until ten o’clock or later. Julia undressed and climbed in bed, clutching the plan to her chest in a viselike grip.

Chapter Eighteen

W
ith his mother and Charlotte beside him, William waited behind a middle-aged couple, careful to stay far enough back to avoid the plumage swaying wildly from the woman’s hair.

Beyond the enormous white feathers, the crowd of well-dressed guests surged and ebbed like the tide rolling into Spithead harbor during a summer thunderstorm. His nerves tensed just as they did every time one of the lookouts cried, “Sail, oh!” But this wasn’t the sea, and these weren’t French and Spanish ships lying in wait to blow him out of the water. He must secure the guns, loose the headsail, and make forward progress into these unknown social waters.

Behind them, he could hear Susan greeting acquaintances. Finally the couple before them finished their conversation with the baron, and William moved forward to greet their host.

“Captain William Ransome, is it not?” The baron extended his hand and shook William’s vigorously.

“Lord Fairfax, thank you again for the honor of your invitation.”

Fairfax waved his hand. “Tosh. We’re honored by your presence.”

“May I present my mother, Mrs. Maria Ransome, and my sister, Miss Charlotte Ransome.”

The rotund man fawned over the ladies before he finally turned to pull his wife’s attention from the couple before them. “Fanny, here is Captain William Ransome and his mother and sister.”

The way Fairfax enunciated his name renewed the sense of dread William had entered with.

“My wife, Lady Fanny Fairfax.”

William bowed to the equally rotund woman, whose large turban tried to make up for her lack of height. “My lady.”

She simpered like a schoolgirl and tapped the buttons and braid across his chest with her folded fan. “Captain Ransome—what fun. Oh, we shall have an amusement tonight, shan’t we? Miss Ransome, have you secured a partner for the opening set? No? There are many handsome young gentlemen here tonight who will clamber to dance with you, I am certain. And Captain, you must have a dance or two as well.” A sly look entered the baroness’s eyes. “Perhaps if Miss Witherington is not spoken for, you might engage her for the first set.”

“Perhaps.” Taking Charlotte’s and his mother’s arms, he started steering them away before Lady Fairfax could launch into the latest gossip. “Thank you again for the honor of the invitation.”

“Oh, wait a moment, Captain.” Lady Fairfax stopped him with her fan poking into his chest like a saber. “Percy, my dear, come here.”

A lanky young man wove through the crowd. “Yes, Mother?”

“Percy, I wanted to introduce this delightful young woman—Miss Charlotte Ransome. Perhaps you and your sisters can take charge of her and make sure she meets all of your crowd.”

The young man bowed with a flourish that set William’s teeth on edge. But he nodded at Charlotte’s questioning look and relinquished her arm to the baron’s son.

“Captain, you will find many of the officers in the conservatory,” the baroness said before turning her attention to Collin and Susan.

His mother’s grip on his arm tightened as they maneuvered through the throng of guests. He caught a glimpse of Lady Pembroke through the crowd and steered his mother on a sharper angle to the wide-open doors of the blue and gold bedecked music room. The color scheme seemed made for the gathering of men in officers’ uniforms. He inclined his head in greeting to Captain Mason but obeyed a wave over from Admiral Glover. He started to feel more at ease that no negative tales would reach his mother’s ears in this company.

Mrs. Hinds and his mother had just fallen into conversation when William felt a tug on his sleeve. Susan’s face looked anxious.

“What is it?” He looked around and saw Collin engaged in lively conversation with Captain Mason.

“I promise I am not trying to interfere or trying to pressure you into something you do not wish to do.” She looked down at the fan she twisted in her fingers. “I know you have not yet secured a partner for the first set. I wondered if you would allow me to entreat you to ask Julia for it.”

Julia took another step back, allowing more people to pass between herself and her aunt. Lady Pembroke, caught up in conversation with Lady Dalrymple, did not notice the growing distance. A little bit more and Julia could blend into the crowd and slip away. She had no desire to be near her aunt when Sir Drake arrived. He would claim Julia for the first set, and her aunt’s scheme would begin to see fulfillment. One more step back—

“Julia ?” Although she had not raised her voice, Lady Pembroke’s sharp tone carried over the noise.

Julia regained her aunt’s side. “I do apologize, ma’am—the press of people is overwhelming.”

The musicians started tuning their instruments, increasing the noise in the stifling room.

“I wonder where my son is. He promised he would be here for the first set.” Lady Pembroke gave Lady Dalrymple a significant glance.

A twitter of voices surrounded them. Julia turned just as William Ransome, resplendent in his dress uniform, stopped and bowed. The people crowded around them all turned to watch in silence. Julia’s heart pounded wildly.

“Miss Witherington, if you are not already engaged, I wonder if I might have the honor of your hand for the first set.”

Her legs started to tremble. “I am not engaged, Captain Ransome, and the honor would be mine.”

Lady Pembroke gasped behind her, but Julia merely curtsied to William, her stomach in knots and head spinning. The similarity to another ballroom, another dance, could not be denied.

“The first couples are taking their places.” William extended a white-gloved hand. “Shall we?”

Julia’s hand shook when she raised it to place in his. Her aunt’s fury emanated like a raging fire at her back, but she did not turn to look. How had William known she needed him tonight?

The decision she’d come to this afternoon, after a day and a half of prayer and constant consideration, left her unsettled and anxious. But by making her own decision, Julia took her life and future back from the certain unhappiness marrying Sir Drake would bring.

She took her place opposite William and drank in his appearance. The deep indigo of his well-fitting uniform created a startling contrast to his eyes-eyes the same vibrant blue as the sun-kissed waters of the Caribbean. His short brown hair curled a bit about his forehead, ears, and collar, with slight touches of silver at his temples.

She followed him through the intricate pattern of the dance. Handsome. Wealthy. Highly respected by others both inside and outside of his profession. She swallowed hard and glanced at him. How was she going to ask? Now the time had come, she wasn’t sure she could go through with it, wasn’t sure she could risk her heart again.

She caught a glimpse of Sir Drake as she and William promenaded the length of the room hand in hand. If she married Sir Drake, he would not only receive her legacy but would also become heir to Tierra Dulce. Julia wasn’t about to let him squander her father’s fortune the way he had gambled away his own. It should go to someone more deserving. Someone her father respected and loved like a son.

“When does Admiral Witherington return from London?” William circled her around in a figure eight.

“Four weeks yet. He is gone only six days and greatly missed already.” She followed him easily through the allemande, weaving in and out of the other couples like fine needlepoint.

“But you should be accustomed to his being gone much longer periods of time. After all, he was at sea most of your childhood.”

Two weeks ago, she might have resented him for reminding her of the years she’d lost—years William had been with her father. But tonight, the flood of enchantment in her heart every time he looked at her drowned out any former ill feelings for him. “Yes. But we have had almost a twelvemonth together since I have been in Portsmouth.”

“Does he—” William paused when the pattern separated them.

They stood opposite one another as other couples promenaded between them. Her cheeks burned under his intense gaze like an inexperienced girl at her debut. She clenched her teeth and tried to control her rising anxiety, but her hand trembled when she reached out to place it in William’s as they joined another couple in a circle.

“Does your father enjoy his duties?” William’s grasp tightened.

“Enjoy being dry-docked? He finds pleasure in assigning commissions to deserving officers.”

He laughed, a deep melodious sound that sent tingles up from their connected hands straight to her riotous heart. “No one could ever accuse you of not being diplomatic.”

She turned and took his other hand. “And would you like giving up your life at sea for a career on land?”

The derisive sound that issued forth from him responded better than any words.

The dance once again separated them.
Lord, please help me to convince him.

She’d made a mistake—she’d allowed herself to come to care for him again. If he declined to help her, she feared it might hurt deeper than before.

In her peripheral vision, she caught another glimpse of Sir Drake, now moving around the room as though trying to keep her constantly in view. She wasn’t engaged for the next dance, but she couldn’t give herself over to Pembroke. As the song ended, she looked around for escape.

William offered his arm. “My mother is here and wishes to renew her acquaintance with you, if you are so inclined.”

Her breath hitched, and her chest tightened. She searched the room for her aunt, but the confusion of dancers and spectators blocked her aunt from sight.

“Yes, I should very much like to meet your mother again.” She laid her hand on his arm and glided across the room—away from Sir Drake. Neither he nor Lady Pembroke would dare cause a scene in front of her father’s friends and fellow officers without fear of word getting to Sir Edward in London.

The music room proved less crowded than the ballroom. Susan waved cheerfully when she saw Julia across the room. Their progress to her was impeded by several friends or admirers of her father who wanted to introduce themselves or be introduced to her.

Susan clasped her in a tight embrace. “Oh, my dear friend. How good it is to see you.” She stepped back and held Julia by the forearms. “You are well?”

Julia nearly laughed with relief. “As well as I can be. I will see how things progress this evening.”

“Miss Witherington.”

Julia disengaged her arms from Susan and turned at William’s voice.

“Here is my mother.”

Julia returned the older woman’s curtsey. “Mrs. Ransome, it is good to see you again. I trust you are enjoying your visit with your son.”

“Miss Witherington, I am delighted.” Mrs. Ransome beamed up at William. “This time together has been such a blessing.” She returned her twinkling gaze to Julia. “William told us after your dinner that he met you for the first time when you were but a child.”

“Did he tell you I was dressed in my brother’s clothing and climbing to the top of the foremast to look for a French ship?” Julia’s heart beat wildly at the smile William bestowed upon her. “He watched over me—made sure I did not fall to certain injury or death on the deck below.”

Her eyes locked with his searching blue gaze. Memories of that first voyage to Jamaica flooded her. Every encounter she’d had with William had proven him to have been, even at fifteen, a man of honor—one who watched over and protected those younger or weaker than himself. A niggling of fear broke through her fervent haze. He had disappointed her once before in the name of honor. Would that same sense of honor keep him from agreeing to her plan?

Although the majority of guests stayed in the main room, the crowded conservatory soon became overheated. Julia fanned herself and wished she dared venture out of her safe haven for a breath of fresh air. But every so often, Sir Drake appeared at the doorway like a shark circling, waiting to attack.

“Miss Witherington.”

She jumped at William’s voice near her ear. “Would you care to take a turn about the garden?”

The garden. Of course. Where else would be more perfectly ironic than the garden? She nodded, not trusting her voice as anxiety wrapped its cold fingers around her throat, and took his arm.

Colored-glass lanterns cast an ethereal light on the wide path. Other couples meandered through the manicured shrubbery. More than one engagement would be formed this night.

She flicked her gaze at William and swallowed. “Do you look forward to your new posting in Jamaica?”

“I look forward to putting my crew out to sea as they deserve.”

She smiled. “Being diplomatic?”

“No. Realistic. As you well know, the voyage is difficult.”

“Indeed.” The gravel bit through the thin soles of her kid dancing slippers. She’d gone soft since returning to England.

“Do you return to Jamaica soon?” William asked.

“I hope so.” She couldn’t catch her breath. She had to take the plunge. “May we find a bench and sit for a moment?”

He looked down at her in concern. “Are you unwell?”

Her heart hammered. “No. I’m perfectly well. I hoped to speak with you tonight, alone.”

He motioned her toward a nearby bench within sight of the rest of the garden but far enough off the path no one should hear what she was about to say to him. She sat beside him for a moment but then sprang back to her feet and paced a circle around him. How to begin?