Ransome's Honor (23 page)

She danced and splashed her way across and around the wide basin and laughed when she lost her footing and sat down hard in the water, feeling good for the first time in days.

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
hank you, Dawling.” William surrendered his hat and coat to his man. “Any correspondence I should know of?”

“Nothing of significance, sir.” A smile played about the sailor’s mouth.

William, hot and exhausted after his walk back from the dockyard, cared not if the steward held a secret from him. “Is Captain Yates in his library?”

“No, sir. Captain Yates has not yet returned from the port Admiralty. Miss Ransome is in there, writing letters. Mrs. Ransome and Mrs. Yates are resting.” Dawling’s eyes took on a sly gleam. “Miss Witherington, however, is in the garden.”

How could he have forgotten Julia was to have spent the day with the women? “I can see you would like to say more, Dawling, so out with it.”

“Oh, sir, if I may make so bold as to say, she is one of the loveliest ladies I’ve ever clapped eyes onto. Does she really see to the running of the admiral’s sugar plantation?”

William frowned and loosened his cravat. “Where did you hear that?”

“All the servants here talk of it.”

“Hmm.” William took his handkerchief from the coat now folded over his steward’s arm and swabbed the sweat from his face. “Thank you, Dawling. That will be all.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Dawling saluted and disappeared through the service door.

William set his foot on the bottom step but then stopped. He wanted to review the charts, but he needed Collin to sit with him to plan their course, as Collin had sailed the waters to the southwest more recently. Additionally, he did not want to disturb his sister’s letter writing.

Miss Witherington, however, is in the garden.
The convoy’s course was not the only one in need of plotting. With a sigh, he turned and exited the rear of the house. The hot July sun hung at half-mast in the west. How Julia could be out in this heat was beyond his fathoming. He frowned, not seeing her in one of the chairs under the arbor, and let his gaze sweep the confines of the yard. Perhaps she’d gone inside without Dawling’s notice.

The splash of water caught his attention. Julia lay on the grass in the shade of dangling willow branches, her bare feet in the shallow pool under the fountain. She didn’t stir, and when he drew closer, the reason became apparent: She was sound asleep.

He sank onto a nearby stone bench. She looked as if she’d gone for a swim—her dress wet and crumpled, her damp hair loose and curling about her cheeks.

A burning tingle crept across his skin that had nothing to do with the sun. In marrying Julia Witherington, he would be blessed with a wife who not only knew the naval life intimately but also was beautiful, intelligent, and strong—strong enough to withstand long separations and the anxiety they created.

Content and starting to relax for the first time since he’d dropped anchor in Spithead a fortnight ago, William shrugged out of his waistcoat, untucked his shirt, and removed his neckcloth.

The water arching out of the marble swan’s mouth was too great a siren. He slipped out of his shoes and stockings, stepped into the pool, and lowered his head under the stream. His shirt and trousers were soaked nearly through by the time he felt human again, but after his long, hot walk, his dinner companions might thank him for his improvised bath.

He ran his fingers through his hair, doing his best to keep the water from dripping into his eyes. Wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, a slight noise, suspiciously like a gasp, caught his ear. He spun to face Julia.

Hot embarrassment crept up the back of his neck. The woman who moments before had looked so innocent and peaceful now sat up, her full bottom lip caught between her teeth in what looked like an attempt to keep from laughing. At him.

Pride writhed in his chest like a great sea-monster, swelling the heat up into his face. Swallowing hard and pushing the vainglory aside, he covered the short distance between them in a few steps, bowed in greeting...and shook like a dog, spraying her with water.

Julia’s full, rich laughter conquered the beast of pride within him. “Is that your customary greeting, Captain Ransome?”

Julia’s rosy cheeks tempted William’s fingers, but he resisted touching her. She pulled her feet out of the water, moved back to lean against the tree, and covered her feet with her skirt.

“Only when caught standing in the middle of a fountain.” He collapsed onto the grass beside her, stretching out on his back, hands pillowed behind his head. “Have you spoken with your aunt today?”

The smile melted from Julia’s expression. “Lady Pembroke sends her apology for her son’s behavior last night.”

“And when will she be removing herself from your home?”

She made a soft, resigned sound in the back of her throat. “Father wished me to have a companion in his absence.”

“But after everything—” He frowned, consternated at Julia’s decision. “The strongbox...and she tried to isolate you from your friends...”

Julia’s green eyes turned stormy. “I have spoken with her. She said she was only trying to act in my best interest.”

“You cannot possibly believe her.” If William had to remove Julia from her father’s house to get her away from that harpy—

“No.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and some of the sharpness left her expression. “But she is family, and I cannot throw her out in to the street when she has asked my forgiveness.”

“Into the street? Come now, Julia. Why cannot she go and stay with that son of hers?”

Even with her mouth pinched and brows furrowed, Julia was beautiful. “The house is apparently in disrepair and under renovation. Those are no conditions for a woman to live in.”

Pride in her compassion and frustration at her willfulness threatened to tear asunder his composure. “Very well. But please promise me you will take all due caution in your interactions with her and will not allow her to gain the weather gauge on you.”

The dimples reappeared in her cheeks. “Aye, aye, sir.”

The war inside him stilled at her smile.

She leaned her head back against the tree trunk. “I have no delusions that she is truly repentant and know she will do whatever she can to see her desires fulfilled.”

“One of those desires being your union with her son?”

“Only as a means to her own ends. I have a feeling her motive for wanting the marriage is less about saving the Pembroke name and more about gaining a house in London, along with invitations to all the best events, participation in the intrigues of the courtiers, and a role in the passing and embellishment of the latest social gossip.”

“Whereas intrigues and gossip hold no interest for you.” He picked a piece of grass off the hem of Julia’s skirt and wrapped it around his finger, trying not to lose himself in the refreshing emerald depths of her eyes. “Nor beaux, if the gossipmongers are to be believed.”

Julia stared at the fountain, cheeks even pinker than before. “Beaux? I do not know what gossip you may have heard, sir, but beaux have been significantly lacking in my life for many years now.”

“Indeed?” He rolled the grass blade between his fingers.

A saucy grin stole over her lips. “There was, of course, the governor’s son. He asked for my hand upon our second meeting. I was only fifteen at the time, and my mother thought me too young. He was merely seventeen, and I thought him too young. Five years later when he asked again, I knew him too well to say yes.”

William rolled onto his side and propped up on his elbow. “And was there no one else who captured your regard?”

“Only one. A sailor. Handsome, with blue eyes. Poor, but respected and admired by his peers. I had great hopes he would propose to me; but, alas, his feelings turned out to be different from mine.” She kept her eyes pointedly away from him.

Hope surged in his chest—hope she might still love him. “Perhaps it wasn’t that his feelings were different. Maybe he wanted to make something of himself, to prove himself worthy of a lady of quality like you.”

Deep crimson flooded Julia’s cheeks. “Then why did he not explain himself? Or renew his addresses when fortune and promotion raised him to a worthy rank?”

He sat up, bringing his face within inches of hers. “Because I convinced myself you would never be able to forgive me—that you no longer cared for me.”

She finally turned to look at him, wide eyes searching his with an intensity that made him dig his toes into the grass. “For a while, for years in truth, I thought that was true as well.” Her fingertips touched his cheek.

He swallowed hard, skin burning from the too-brief caress. The emotions vying for release would capsize him if he did not redirect the conversation. “I went to see the bishop this morning.”

She dropped her gaze to her skirt. “You did?”

“Aye.” He shifted position to put a few more inches between them. “I have secured the special license.”

Julia closed her eyes, and a tear escaped down her cheek.

“What is this?” He dashed away the crystal droplet with his thumb.

“I am no better than my aunt and cousin.”

He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Explain.”

Her green eyes snapped to his at the command. “I have manipulated you into a decision with no thought to your wishes or desires—only my own.”

William cupped her face in his hands. “Do not compare your actions to theirs. You were open and forthcoming with me about your reason for asking me to marry you. I would not have made an enemy of the Pembrokes if I did not wish to help you.”

The trust that flooded Julia’s gaze took William back twelve years to another garden, another moment when he stood on this same precipice. He leaned closer, tracing the contour of her lips with his eyes. One kiss and she would understand his heart—

“William ! William!”

For the first time in his life, William hated Collin Yates.

“What is wrong with me, letting my emotions show in such a way?” Julia tugged the comb through her snarled hair. Her heart still raced, thinking of how close she’d come to letting William kiss her. “I cannot, cannot,
cannot
allow that to happen again.”

She plaited her hair and crossed to the window. The tendril limbs of the willow tree beside the fountain seemed to mock her as they danced and whispered her secret in the wind. She should never have agreed to spending the day here. To think she had actually hoped she would be able to spend time with William.

And who could have imagined that in a damp, loose-flowing white shirt, fawn trousers, and barefooted, he would be even more handsome—

No ! She thrust the curtains closed and turned her back to the window. The lace drapes billowed in protest behind her. He admitted he’d agreed to her scheme only out of a wish to help her, not because he still harbored any affection for her. Yet why would he have been about to kiss her if he had no feelings for her?

Her love for William Ransome chafed her spirit—very much like her damp undergarments were starting to chafe her skin. Her valise sat on the floor in front of the wardrobe. She grabbed it and set it on the vanity table.

Something fluttered to the floor. Julia stooped to pick it up. A piece of paper, cramped writing covering both sides. Had it fallen out of her bag? She moved back toward the window for better light. No salutation—the writing started at the top of the page.

I am writing this with much haste to get it out in the next packet, so forgive me if I seem abrupt. But I can no longer deny my feelings or hide them from you. I love you. I have no right to ask you to requite me. I am a pauper who hangs his hopes that a princess could deign to love him in return.

She smiled. It must be a page from one of Collin’s old letters to Susan while they were courting. She really should set it aside, take it back to Susan...but curiosity about her friend’s past led her eyes to the next paragraph.

I wish I could be there to ask you this in person, but I do not know when I shall be able to return to England. So I must do the unthinkable and write it to you in a letter.

My darling Charlotte, will you marry me—

Julia gasped and thrust the piece of paper behind her back. Charlotte ? Alarmed, she glanced toward the door and then hurried back over to the—why had it been on the floor near the armoire? Uncertain, she carefully set the page where her valise had been and backed away from it. Sitting sideways in the vanity-table chair, she stared at the parchment.

Charlotte had a suitor. One who was, apparently, out of the country.

The crack of something hard hitting the floor made her jump. She quickly turned to face the mirror.

Charlotte entered, clutching a stack of stationery to her chest. She bent down to retrieve her dropped ink bottle.

Julia forced a smile for William’s sister. “I am sorry you have had to give up your privacy for me, Charlotte.”

“It is no bother—I volunteered to share.” Charlotte stopped at the small desk, deposited the writing implements atop it, and crossed to the wardrobe.

“Do you find Portsmouth to your liking?” Julia asked, watching the younger woman in the reflection.

“Oh, yes.” With her back turned, Charlotte rummaged in one of the armoire drawers. “There are ever so many more diversions in Portsmouth than in Gateacre or Liverpool. I never expected I would attend a formal dinner and a ball my first weeks in town.”