Ransome's Honor (21 page)

“I would enjoy that, thank you.” She bent her knees and turned to follow her mother to where her brother stood near the pianoforte. Her skin tingled. What did William need to say to her that their mother could not communicate? Had she done something terribly wrong this evening without knowing?

When she gained her brother’s side, he took her hand, kissed the back of it, and tucked it under his elbow. Confused, she watched him as Julia and Susan finished their song and then refused to play another piece, insisting other ladies have a chance to exhibit.

A slight thrill of excitement shimmied down Charlotte’s spine. Of all the guests tonight, Julia was the one she’d hoped to be able to spend some time with.

Although smiling, Miss Witherington had a drawn, fatigued look about her face. “Miss Ransome, what a pleasure it is to see you again.”

“And you, Miss Witherington.”

William cleared his throat. “Charlotte, Miss Witherington and I are to be married.”

“Married?” A clap of thunder couldn’t come as more of a surprise. “But they said—” She stopped, embarrassed at what she had been about to say. All evening, she’d heard nothing but gossip about Julia Witherington’s impending marriage to her cousin, the fulsome baronet. She looked from William to Miss Witherington, and a sudden happiness filled her. “Congratulations—may I wish you joy?”

Affection filled William’s blue eyes so like her own. He kissed her forehead. “Aye, you may, and thank you.”

A sister. With three older brothers who took prodigious good care of her, even though she hardly saw them, the only thing lacking in Charlotte’s life had been a sister. She looked at Miss Witherington again, and a tickle of tears blurred the edges of her vision. A sister. Finally. “When will you be married?”

William and Miss Witherington exchanged a long look. “Before my ship sails, as Miss Witherington will accompany me back to her home in Jamaica.”

Would the surprises never end this night? “She will accompany you—on your ship? The ship you would not allow Mama and me to board two years ago?”

He looked down at his feet. “Aye, the very same. I will make it up to you by giving you a tour as soon as she comes out of dry dock.”

“Oh yes, please!” Charlotte calmed herself. To be able to see the entire ship, to learn its layout before putting her plan into action—“I would very much like to see my brother’s home from home.”

Finally, the answers to her prayers seemed to be arriving tenfold. With William fitting out his ship for a transatlantic voyage while also preparing for a wedding, and then with the stir that having Miss Witherington aboard would cause—Mrs. Ransome as she would then be—Charlotte’s plan might work better than she’d originally hoped.

The empty crystal decanter shattered with a resounding crash against the fireplace. “How could I have been so stupid as to follow your ill-conceived advice?”

“Calm yourself.” Lady Pembroke sat on the edge of one of the ancient chairs in the dank sitting room of Pembroke House.

The brandy gone, Drake lifted a bottle of port, refilled his glass, and downed half of it. “How could you do something as idiotic as laying out the entire plan to Julia before it was put into action—to give a woman as intelligent as she two days to figure out a way to thwart us?”

Augusta stood, snatched the glass from his hand, and shoved him into a chair. “I do believe you’ve had quite enough to drink tonight.” She removed the bottle and glass from his reach. “I do not know how that hoyden learned of our plan—though I am certain she must have, as the timing of her action cannot be coincidental. But if you will recall, we did speak of it in a public place. She has more allies than I suspected.”

“What are we going to do?”

A sudden sting and sharp smack sent his head lolling back. He raised his hand to the cheek his mother had just slapped. “What was that for?”

“To make you stop whining.” Augusta grabbed the glass and took a deep draught of the port. “You have never been denied anything you want. But with your ungoverned words and anger tonight, repairing the damage you’ve done is going to be difficult.”

She paced the room, finishing the remainder of the drink. “We can only hope she does not throw me out of her house. I shall do what I can to remain in her good graces and see if I can discover a method to undo what has been done.” She stopped, refilled the glass, and handed it to him. “Tomorrow, you need to visit the postmaster, as I’m certain both she and the captain will try to get letters through to the admiral.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Julia Witherington’s thirty thousand pounds and access to her father’s estate is yours by right. And we must do whatever necessary to have it in our possession before month’s end.”

Chapter Twenty

T
he Yateses’ barouche pulled to a stop in front of the Witheringtons’ house. No lights burned upstairs, and only a dim glow defined the windows on the main level.

William leapt out and assisted Julia down.

Susan leaned through the door of the carriage. “Julia, don’t forget—we shall be by for you at eleven tomorrow morning.”

“I won’t forget. And thank you for your kindness this evening. I don’t know how I would have made it through.” She squeezed her friend’s hand.

“My dear Miss Witherington—Julia.” Mrs. Ransome extended her hand to Julia with a warm smile. “I am so happy you will be joining our family. I wish we had more time to spend together before you leave the country.”

“As do I, Mrs. Ransome.”

“Well, we shall have all day tomorrow—you are staying for dinner, Julia. Did I tell you?” Susan grinned at her.

Only Susan. Julia smiled back. “I would be delighted.”

Julia was finally able to bid them all goodnight and gratefully took William’s arm to the open front door, which framed Creighton, standing sentry with a lighted candle.

“Good evening, Miss Witherington.” Creighton turned to William and raised his hand to salute, remembering himself when his arm was halfway up. His arm dropped back to his side. “Captain Ransome, sir.”

“Creighton, is it not?”

This time, Creighton did knuckle his forehead. “Aye, sir.”

“You served Admiral Witherington before he struck his colors.”

“Aye, sir. Served Sir Edward as steward, sir.”

Julia watched in fascination at the easy command in William’s stance and voice and Creighton’s immediate shift from butler to sailor.

“And where lie your loyalties?”

“To king and country, sir. To Sir Edward and the Royal Navy... and Miss Witherington, sir.”

William again raised his brow in an expression so reminiscent of her father Julia nearly laughed.

“Very well, then.” William looked at Julia then returned to Creighton. “Whatever Miss Witherington needs, she is to receive. I expect to receive word daily of Miss Witherington’s continued good welfare. If I am needed, you are to send word. Are my orders clear?”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Creighton’s voice betrayed surprise that did not register in his solemn expression.

“Excellent. That will be all.” William reached for the candle. Creighton saluted again and backed into the house.

She should have known William would see to her care with military precision and decisiveness. “Thank you.”

“On days when you are to see Susan, your butler need not send a message. If Lady Pembroke or Sir Drake tries to waylay you or force you into any action or agreement, I am to be sent for immediately.” He looked over his shoulder at the dark carriage. “My mother wishes to call upon Lady Pembroke.”

Julia shook her head. “I think that is unwise. Perhaps you might explain—?”

“I will do my best to help her understand the situation.” His expression softened. “Are you certain you do not wish to stay with the Yateses? I can remove myself to an inn.”

She laid her hand on his forearm and gave it a light squeeze. “I shall survive, I promise. Captain Ransome, I—”

“We are to be married. I believe you should call me by my Christian name.” He lifted her hand and held it loosely between them.

Her face burned and her entire arm tingled. “William. I must apologize to you.” She searched his race—the face that was at once familiar and strange—for some revelation of his thoughts. “I would never have knowingly put you in the line of fire.”

“I know. I am honored to have been the one there to offer protection.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Until tomorrow, then.”

The soft touch of his lips to the backs of her fingers nearly discomposed her. She swallowed hard. “Until tomorrow.” She belatedly realized he tried to press the candleholder into her hand. She grasped it and remained on the stoop as he returned to the barouche. He turned at the carriage, nodded at her, and climbed in.

When the carriage rolled away, Julia entered the house and shut the door behind her. Creighton met her before she’d taken three steps, took the candle from her, and lit the tiered candelabra on the receiving table.

“Has my aunt retired already?” Strain pitched her voice higher than usual.

“She returned home a little while ago. Just before you arrived, she had me send Jim for an express messenger.”

“To whom would she be sending an express at this hour?” Julia crossed her arms, hugging herself

“I did not hear the name, but the message is being carried to London.”

Julia hoped her aunt was trying to arrange accommodations there.

“Nancy awaits you upstairs. Shall I send Betsy up with a tub of hot water for your feet?”

“Only if she is still awake. I do not want you to disturb her sleep.”

He bowed. “Yes, miss.”

“Good night, Creighton.”

“Good night, miss.” He handed her the candle and disappeared down the dark hall.

Climbing the stairs seemed to take hours, her legs protesting every step.

In her room, she sank into the cushioned chair at the vanity table. Nancy immediately started pulling pins from Julia’s hair. Her scalp tingled and ached as the elaborate curls loosened and fell to hang down her back.

Doubts assailed her anew as Nancy combed out the tangles. Was marrying William the right step? God had never seemed more distant or silent than tonight, when she needed him most.

She climbed into bed and drew the quilt up to her chin. Three weeks from tomorrow and she would leave England, perhaps forever. She would board
Alexandra
as Mrs. William Ransome.

If William had never even let his mother and sister come on board when his ship was at anchor, what would his crew think of his bringing a woman—a
wife—
with them all the way across the Atlantic?

Lord, please let his men accept me. Let him have a good, strong, able crew that will make the voyage safe and fast.

Yawning, Julia tried to continue her prayer but drifted off to sleep, the last coherent thought a petition to God to give her a happy marriage with William Ransome. A happy
lifelong
marriage.

William labored over the letter to Admiral Witherington, finally copying a clean draft as, outside his window, the morning star began to wane. Before putting his signature to the page, William reread it. Honest without being critical of Lady Pembroke, forthcoming without mentioning Julia’s business arrangement. If the truth of that were to be revealed to the admiral, Julia must undertake the telling herself

He sealed the letter and laid it atop the other correspondence bound for the post. More weary than after the most heated battle, he dropped into bed.

How would he break the news to his men? All of his officers had left Portsmouth to visit their families. When they returned next week, they would most likely hear rumors of the engagement from an innkeeper or tavern host. There was nothing for it. He would have to make the announcement to them their first morning—then do the same with the rest of the crew two days later. He pictured himself overlooking the quarterdeck, telling the crew Julia would sail with them. His imaginary crew reacted with indifference, but then, when his mind ran through it again, with consternation, followed by anger and then fury.

When he imagined them erupting into full-blown mutiny, he kicked off the blanket, dressed, and quietly made his way down to the kitchen. The scullery maid gave a startled squeak that alerted the cook to his presence. He was as surprised as she to find anyone stirring so early.

“Mornin’, sir. Sommat I can get for ye?” the cook asked, wiping her hands of the meat she’d been butchering.

“Coffee.” He cringed at the bark of command in his voice. “If you have any made, please.”

“I can have it brewed in a trice, sir. Shall ye be in the dining room?”

“Yes—no. In Captain Yates’s library.”

“Yes, sir. Molly ’ere will bring it to ye.”

“Thank you.” He climbed the two flights of stairs and let himself into Collin’s small but comfortable study. He sank into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and stared at the empty grate, too many thoughts whirling in his mind to focus on just one. The coffee the girl brought up was better than he’d had at the ball last night but still needed plenty of sugar and milk to be palatable.

“I thought I heard you stirring.”

He started at his mother’s soft voice. Dressed in a simple gray gown, a mobcap covering her sandy hair, she entered the study and sat in the other chair.

“Good morning, Mother. I apologize if I disturbed your sleep.”

“Sleep did not find me this night.” Sadness edged her voice.

In the dim glow of the candle she had carried in, William was astonished to see tears collecting in her eyes.

“Mother?” He reached for her hand. “What is the matter?”

“Oh, William! I never meant—I cannot abide the thought you are marrying because of any pressure I have exerted on you over the years. Do anything but marry without love.”

William moved to kneel beside her chair. “Do not fret so.” His heart swelled with all of the emotions of his childhood when she began to stroke his hair. “How many years have I ignored your admonitions and pleadings that I find a wife?”

The question had the desired effect. She smiled before the tears could escape. “Then you do love her?”

“I—” He sat back on his heels. “I’ve never told you that I came within one breath of proposing to Julia twelve years ago.”

Bewilderment now filled his mother’s expression. “But you did not. Why?”

“Because I had nothing to recommend me. I could not in good conscience have tied her to a poor lieutenant with no prospects at a future.”

“And you were too proud to accept her fortune.”

“I told myself it was honor, not pride, but you are correct.” He flicked at a piece of lint on his sleeve. “Pride stopped me from proposing to her then, and pride kept me from renewing my courtship once I had patronage and promotion and wealth.”

“So what changed?”

“She needs me. And my admiral would wish it if he knew the situation.”

“And what is the situation?”

He rose and crossed to the window beyond which dawn blossomed. He could not hide the truth from his mother. “Miss Witherington’s aunt planned to force Miss—Julia to marry a man no woman should be saddled with. A man who would only bring her misery and who would squander everything Admiral Witherington has worked his entire life to gain.”

He propped his forearm against the window frame, lack of sleep making his body heavy. “After we danced, as you know, we took a stroll in the garden. Julia explained her circumstance and her need to marry to protect herself and Admiral Witherington’s fortune and properties.” He turned to face his mother. “I could not refuse her—especially after we were accosted by her aunt and the baronet.”

A slight smile pulled at his mother’s lips. “William, dear, you did not say you love her, yet you must have some affection toward her, else you would not be willing to join your life to hers-and she to you.”

“She did not ask for my love-what she has requested is the protection of my name. A ‘business arrangement,’ she called it. She asked we remain married one year, at which time she will request an annulment.” He rubbed his eyes. “For this, I get to keep her dowry of thirty thousand pounds and become Admiral Witherington’s heir.”

Mrs. Ransome gasped. “And you agreed to this?”

“I had no time to consider the ramifications. Her aunt was upon us as soon as the words were out of Julia’s mouth. When Pembroke clutched Julia’s arm as if to drag her away, I acted without thought. She needed my protection. I gave it to her the only way I could.”

Concern creased Mrs. Ransome’s brow. “But you will take vows before God. ‘Until
death
us do part.’”

“I know.” He returned to the chair and melted into it. “Thus my lack of sleep.”

“Can you help her without marrying her?”

“I cannot see how. If I simply take her back to Jamaica aboard
Alexandra,
now that the rumor of our engagement has spread, it would ruin her. Her father would waste no time in mustering the Channel Fleet to hunt me down and blow me out of the water. And if she is not legally wed, her fortune-and the admiral’s—is still in danger of falling prey to the Pembrokes’ schemes.”

“But marriage? When your bride enters it with the plan of breaking the vows?”

He leaned forward and clasped his mother’s hands. “You know as well as anyone how I have resisted marriage-railed against it at times. But I cannot imagine living out my days alone. Of any woman I have ever met, none other would make so fitting a wife for me as Julia Witherington.”

“And the annulment?” Mrs. Ransome asked softly.

“There will be no annulment.”