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What a preposterous humbug! Julia looked at Eleanor, wondering if the woman was truly naive or even more clever than anyone supposed. Eleanor was so very delicate, so reserved…so much not like the rest of the Beckets.
“Have you ever been to London?” Julia asked her.
Eleanor’s smile was a marvel, making her even more beautiful. “No, I don’t care to travel. Papa and I are very content.”
“But not the others?”
“Courtland. And Cassandra is still very young. I think Morgan would like to see London, although she has absolutely no interest in becoming a part of society. Spencer is mad to have Papa buy him a commission in the Army, and I worry that Rian feels the same. It’s a subject we don’t dwell on in order not to upset Papa.”
No, Julia thought, no one ever seems to want to upset Papa. “Leaving Chance and Fanny, I believe?”
“Yes, of course. Chance made his feelings plain years ago, but I really can’t say what Fanny thinks. She is only sixteen, which is old enough to put up her hair, which she flatly refuses to do, as I believe I’ve already told you.” Eleanor smiled. “What I didn’t tell you is that I’m surprised she hasn’t simply cut it all off. Court says she’s an Irish demon, but he only says that in jest. I think.”
Eleanor smiled toward the doorway. “There you are, Morgan. Julia and I were just chatting. Tell us, do you want to go to London or simply molder away here, as Spencer says?”
Morgan crossed over to a nearby couch, her strides carelessly long, her legs seeming to swing straight from the hips. Did the girl know the shape of her legs was outlined by the constraints of her skirt with each step she took? And it wasn’t that her sprigged muslin gown was cut daringly low, it was that Morgan was simply one of those women who had been generously…endowed.
“London?” Morgan said, crossing her legs, and her slim ankles were exposed. “Is Chance leaving already? Are you planning to go back with him, Elly? I still say if Papa wants you to have a season on the marriage market, you should take the plunge.”
“Morgan, please,” Eleanor said, lowering her head once more.
Such a long, delicate neck, Julia thought. Eleanor Becket would cause quite a stir in London…if not for that limp. Julia didn’t know very much about London society, but she was fairly certain its members could be cruel. Papa might harbor the same concerns.
“I’m sorry, Elly,” Morgan said, reaching over to lightly touch her sister’s neatly clasped hands. “I’m always saying something stupid, aren’t I? I didn’t mean to—oh ho, look who’s here. Lieutenant Diamond. Do you want to watch while I make him stammer?”
Eleanor kept her voice down as Chance, Courtland and a tall, fair man dressed in the uniform of the dragoons entered the large room, still speaking to each other. “Morgan, you tease that poor man half out of his mind. Now uncross your legs and sit up straight, please. Lieutenant Diamond’s truly smitten.”
“And that’s somehow my fault?” Morgan asked, grinning at Julia. “Besides, a little wool over the man’s eyes is good for all of us. Don’t you think so, Julia?”
“I suppose, Morgan, although I don’t quite understand what you mean,” Julia said, feigning innocence even as she feared her ploy wasn’t working. “As long as you remember that a discarded suitor can turn quite mean.”
Morgan frowned, looked at Lieutenant Diamond’s back, looked at Julia again. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You rarely think through anything you say, Morgan,” Eleanor said, sighing. “But you began this flirtation and now you’re simply going to have to continue being flattered by Lieutenant Diamond’s attention until either he or you leaves the area. That’s only fair to the gentleman.”
Julia watched as the lieutenant broke himself away from Courtland even as Chance left the room—heading for the stairs, she supposed—and walked over to bow to the ladies. She’d been right. Eleanor Becket knew quite a lot and only pretended she knew nothing. And obviously although Chance and Morgan seemed to trust Julia, Eleanor was still reserving judgment to some point. A complex young woman, this fragile flower.
Morgan held up her hand and the lieutenant bent over it, holding on to the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. “Lieutenant, how good to see you again. Gracious, it’s been an age.”
“Only a week, Miss Morgan. Although it seems a month. I’ve been occupied with my duties, I fear,” the lieutenant answered, then turned to Eleanor. “Miss Becket,” he said and bowed to her as Eleanor regally dipped her head.
“Lieutenant. Please allow me to present to you Miss Julia Carruthers, my brother Chance’s fiancée, although he’s yet to make a formal announcement.”
The lieutenant all but snapped to attention, his expression respectful, then bowed to Julia. “Miss Carruthers, my honor. And my felicitations.”
Julia knew there was no way to correct Eleanor without making a total spectacle of herself. “Thank you, Lieutenant. But I do believe you’re wanted across the room.”
With one last look at Morgan, who smiled up at him from beneath her long black lashes, he was off and within moments was reading some papers Chance had handed him.
His orders. They had to be Chance’s orders. And the lieutenant seemed suitably impressed, reading them quickly, then handing them back to Chance, bowing to him.
What a charade. And what brilliance. The lieutenant would be so happy to tell Chance anything he wanted to know…and Chance would share all of that information with the rest of the Beckets. With the Black Ghost.
Julia had to stifle a giggle, which meant she was a terrible person, indeed, and quite thoroughly corrupted. Chance certainly had played his cards successfully, as one trip to her bed and she had become a willing participant in the entire smuggling scheme. Shame on her.
She coughed into her fist to hide yet another giggle when Chance smiled at her, his eyes all but dancing, as if they shared a great secret.
“Oh, look at Chance, Elly,” Morgan said, having turned sideways on the couch to watch the men. “He’s positively delirious with love, isn’t he?”
“Morgan, you’re not supposed to notice such things,” Eleanor told her quietly.
“Oh, pooh,” Morgan said, turning around to look at Julia. “Anyone with two eyes can see he’s top over heels in love with her. Isn’t he, Julia?”
Julia felt heat rising into her cheeks and wildly searched her brain for some other subject to talk about, one not so embarrassingly personal. “I…um…”
“Ladies?” Chance said, having walked across the room without Julia noticing. “We beg your pardon for deserting you, but we have much to discuss with Lieutenant Diamond and don’t wish to bore you ladies with such matters. Darling,” he ended, bending to kiss Julia’s cheek. “I’ll come to you as soon as I’m free, and we can further discuss the nuptials. I’ll be counting the moments.”
Julia wasn’t in danger of giggling anymore, and her cheeks were certainly not flushed but had probably gone chalk-white. How dare he kiss her, say such things in front of his sisters, as if he was making an appointment to come to her bed? Why, weren’t things already complicated enough without—
“Nuptials, is it? This soon?” Morgan said, sitting back and folding her arms beneath her breasts. “And him still in half mourning. Well, that’s settled then, isn’t it? You and Chance will be staying at Becket Hall for six more months before heading back to London. After all, Chance wouldn’t want to cause a scandal.”
“I don’t think Chance cares a great deal about what society might think,” Eleanor said consideringly, placing a hand on Julia’s arm. “Julia? Is this what you want?”
Julia stood up, grateful her legs seemed able to hold her erect. “I…I suppose—”
“Wonderful!” Morgan said, cutting her off as she jumped up and wrapped her arms around her. She kissed Julia’s cheek, then whispered in her ear, “Chance is brilliant, isn’t he? Now Jacko will have to be satisfied.”
Julia stood stiffly when Morgan stepped back, then somehow dredged up a smile. “If you’ll both excuse me? I…I didn’t sleep well last night and really believe I’d like to lie down for a while.”
Morgan snorted—yes, snorted—and Julia suddenly wondered how many people knew that she and Chance…that she and Chance had…oh, blast!
“Excuse me,” she said again and quickly left the room. She needed time alone to think up at least a half dozen horribly painful ways to torture Chance Becket.
Her mind filled with the glories of hot pitch and feathers, Julia was halfway into her bedchamber before she realized she was not alone.
“I beg your pardon. But who are you and why are you in my chamber?” she asked, already fairly certain of the answer to the first part of the question.
The tall ebony-skinned woman put down Julia’s hairbrush and smiled in a broad white-toothed grin. “I’m Odette, of course, and I go where I wish to go. Today I wish to see you, so I am here.” She shrugged. “Simple, yes?”
“Actually, I suppose so,” Julia said, taking a seat beside the fireplace and motioning for the woman to sit down in the matching green chair. If she just thought of the accepted rules of every possible polite convention, then turned them on their heads, she would have gone a long way toward understanding Becket Hall and its inhabitants. “Callie mentioned you. She’s very much in awe. You’re some sort of priestess, I believe? From Haiti?”
Odette sat down, smoothing the skirts of her black gown over her knees, and her pride was evident in her ramrod-straight posture. “I come from Dahomey, my family stolen from our home to be carried across the sea and sold like cattle in the marketplace. Saint-Domingue, Haiti, the name makes no never mind. For me, I have learned my home is where I am.”
Julia was amazed. And saddened. To read about such happenings was one thing, to see this woman, this proud woman, was quite another. “I’m so sorry.”
Odette cackled, her dark eyes twinkling. “For what, girl? You had nothing to do with my life. I am happy here. Are you happy here?”
The abruptness of the question startled Julia. “Why, yes. Yes, I am. The Beckets are lovely people and I—”
“You belong to Chance now, and he to you.” She stood up, reached into the pocket of her gown and extracted what Julia now knew to be a gad, the tooth thankfully small but still more than a little ugly. Odette lowered the thin circle of leather over Julia’s head, the tooth falling at the end of the strip to hang down between her breasts.
Julia felt a shiver run up her spine, but she was certain that was her own superstition, not any power in the gad. “Why, thank you. It’s…it’s lovely, really. I’m truly honored. Has Chance renewed the magic in his?”
“It is done. The boy would not disobey me. We settled that a long time ago, when he first came to the island and he put up a fuss about going into the bath I’d got ready for him.” Odette grinned again and actually winked at her. “There’s nothing I don’t know about that boy.”
Julia could feel color rushing into her cheeks even as she grinned. “You dumped him into the tub? How old was he?”
“Nine, or so we all decided. Too old for a young black woman to be sitting on him, stripping off his filthy britches and giving his bare backside a good whacking. Not that I could do that now, with him thinking himself a man grown. All you need with Chance is to let that boy know you won’t swallow any foolishness from him, that’s all.”
Was that what this visit was all about? Odette was giving her instructions on how to handle Chance Becket? Did the woman think she needed lessons? Of course she did. Julia thought so, too. But she did take issue with the notion Chance was just a boy being foolish. “Is that what you call his stubborn pursuit of what he thinks is best no matter what anyone else might think? Foolishness?”
“Anything a man does that a woman does not like is foolishness in one way or another,” Odette said, patting Julia’s shoulder. “You stand up to him and only bend when you want to bend. Marry strength with strength, and together you will be invincible. All the shadows of his past will disappear and you will both walk in the sun.”
Julia turned in her chair, put a hand on the woman’s arm. “Wait, please. I’d really like to know more about Chance, about his childhood. About the island.”
Odette smiled down at her. “Then ask him. The day he tells you, his heart is yours for the keeping. Do you want his heart?” The woman shook her head yet again. “No, say nothing. It is not yet time, I don’t think.”
“But you came here,” Julia said as she lifted the gad. “You gave me this. Have…have you cast a spell on me? I mean, not that I believe such things, turning people into animals and such, but…have you?”
“I use my magic for good,” Odette said, gathering herself up to her full height, which was impressive. “Callie is a child and likes stories, so I amuse her. Black magic is for those whose souls live in the dark, those who embrace the bad loa.”
Julia nodded as if she understood, which she didn’t. “Forgive me for questioning you, Odette.”
Odette grinned again, not a shadow in her eyes. “Questions make no never mind. Only be sure you wish to know the answers. I must be off.”
And, with no explanation as to why she must leave, Odette walked out, leaving Julia to sit alone in her chamber, to await Chance’s arrival to, so he’d said, discuss the nuptials.
Well, the devil she would! If he wanted to speak with her, he could very well come find her, not expect her to be sitting there waiting for him. Besides, it was probably best to let him find her somewhere there was no bed in the room with her.
She went to the wardrobe to gather up her pelisse, then remembered she’d left it in the main salon. “Blast!” She pulled open drawers until she found the knitted shawl Mrs. Kester had made for her—to thank her for staying with her, holding her hand until the midwife had come and all through the birth of her son Henry—then headed for the back stairs.
This area of Becket Hall was new to her. She was fairly sure it would take three solid days to see it all, admire all the fine furnishings, but she did stop a few times to touch an exceedingly beautiful vase, to bend down to slide her hands over one of the silk carpets.
Eventually she made her way to a set of French doors in the music room and from there she was soon outside on the terrace and then making her way down to the shoreline.
The sun shone brightly, so that Julia wished she’d thought to bring her bonnet with her, and the breeze had stiffened, coming in from the Channel to ruffle her skirts and tease her hair around her head.
The wind coming in from the Channel on a fine day had always been considered invasion weather, and she wondered if Lieutenant Diamond and his men still believed a French invasion possible. What would it be like to look through one of the windows of Becket Hall and see a thousand small boats heading in toward the shore, the sunlight twinkling on ten thousand rifles, ten thousand bayonets?
Julia wrapped her arms around her as gulls circled overhead, and turned in the opposite direction of the stables and small village, minding her steps as the sand and shingle eventually turned mostly to sand. She then turned inland, as she’d heard the stories about the shifting sands of Romney Marsh and the dangers they presented the unwary.
Luckily there was a narrow path visible through the marsh grasses and the few hardy bushes that seemed to grow sideways, pointing her way inland. As she reached a small rise, it was as if all of the Marsh was displayed for her in its stark, mysterious beauty. Mostly flat land but with a myriad of towering church spires in the distance, visible to the horizon.
She smiled. Her father had told her he would like to think the abundance of churches reflected the deep faith of the inhabitants but knew, alas, that the church spires, rising up above the flat land, were often little more than navigational tools for the freetraders.
She looked back at Becket Hall rising majestically above a mostly flat land. No need of a church spire here, but only the lighted windows facing the sea, like so many beacons. So innocent, unless someone knew what she knew. Or what she thought she knew.
Julia saw the rider before she heard the hoofbeats and pressed the side of her hand against her brow to keep the sun out of her eyes as the huge red horse leisurely cantered toward her.
“Chance,” she said to herself. “I’d be no easier to find if they tied a bell around my neck.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHANCE REINED IN JACMEL a good ten feet away from Julia and dismounted, tied the reins to the wrist-thick branch of a small, scrubby tree. “Thank God you turned inland, woman,” he said, taking hold of her upper arms. “Court and I were riding back after escorting the lieutenant and his men halfway to Dymchurch when I saw you. Nobody walks along the beach in this direction unless they know the way.”
Julia was shaking now, realizing she may have had a lucky escape. “So there are quicksands?”
Chance let go of her arms and stabbed his fingers through his hair. This woman was going to drive him straight out of his mind. “Why did I even bother thinking I might have to rescue you? How do I keep forgetting that you grew up learning about Romney Marsh?”
Julia considered the notion he’d been concerned for her, possibly even frightened. Either that or having her disappear would cause more trouble than anyone wanted, especially now that Lieutenant Diamond had seen her. She much preferred her first thought but couldn’t dismiss the second.
So she pushed—just a little.
“For a dangerous area as this is, it’s surprising that there would be such a well-worn path, isn’t it? But as you say, for those who know the sands, it isn’t treacherous at all. Only for those who don’t. I’m sure someone has warned Lieutenant Diamond away, told him of the danger to his men if they were to patrol here.”
Lord save him from intelligent, prying women! Chance grabbed her by the elbow and drew her along with him toward the horse. “We’ll walk back,” he said tightly. “Just let me untie Jacmel. Did you enjoy your walk?”
“Most of it, yes. Jacmel,” Julia said, also suddenly eager to change the subject. She realized that she was always eager to change the subject, mostly because she had said something she should not have said. “What does the name mean?”
“Jacmel is the name of a town I knew in the islands,” Chance said dismissively, for although he would much rather not listen to more of Julia’s stabbing remarks about the smugglers, he was likewise reluctant to discuss the islands. “Here,” he said, digging into his pocket, one hand holding Jacmel’s reins. “The moment didn’t seem right earlier, on the terrace. But you should have this.”
Julia automatically put out her hand, then goggled at the ring he’d laid in her palm. It was heavily engraved gold, with a huge green stone surrounded by tiny pearls. The sun winked off the stone, dazzling her, and she stumbled into speech. “I…I can’t take this. I don’t want to take this. Where did you get this?”
He’d known she’d ask that last question. Most women wouldn’t have, of course, but Julia Carruthers had her own definition of how she should behave. “It isn’t polite to ask such questions, Julia,” he said, because, oddly, he wanted to hear her reaction to his small reprimand.
“Probably not,” Julia said in what he was learning was her matter-of-fact bluntness, still staring at the ring. “Here, take it back.”
Very nearly the straightforward answer he’d expected, almost to the word, as he had been thinking she’d say absolutely not. Still, her meaning was clear. And he was beginning to understand her. Anything he wanted, she automatically rejected out of hand.
So being a little contrary himself, he asked, “Would you like another stone? I thought the emerald would complement your eyes. But if you want sapphires? Or diamonds?”
“I simply want you to take this back,” Julia said, all but shoving the thing in his face. “Or do you think I haven’t figured out what you and Ainsley and Jacko and the others did in the islands? Why you’re all so remarkably wealthy?”
“We were legitimate traders,” Chance said, unaware that a tic had begun in his left cheek. “Or are you looking at that ring and seeing me with a cutlass between my teeth as I board and plunder ships? Is that what you’ve conjured up now in that maddening mind of yours, Julia? That we’re nothing more than a crew of bloodthirsty pirates? And here I thought we were smugglers. Make up your mind, Julia.”
She didn’t know what to say and she definitely didn’t know how to say it. Did she really believe she was residing with a retired crew of pirates?
No, of course not; that was unthinkable, unimaginable. But privateers? That possibility made perfect sense to her, as far as things went. And wasn’t it odd that Chance had immediately said pirates, not privateers? Privateers were allowed, even sanctioned. But privateers commissioned by what country? England? America? Spain? Or even Napoleon’s France? The possibilities remained frightening.
“I…I’m sorry,” she said at last, sighing. “I shouldn’t speculate, should I? When…when you wish to tell me, if you ever wish to tell me about the islands or…or anything, it will be your decision.”
Chance smiled, feeling the moment over or at the very least postponed. “I don’t wish to tell you.”
“Oh,” Julia said quietly, remembering Odette’s words. He’d certainly put her in her place, hadn’t he? “I…I see. But I still can’t accept this ring. It’s all about deception, and I could never look at it or your family without remembering why I was wearing it.”
Chance’s smile faded. “You are the most headstrong, obstinate, difficult, disobedient—aren’t you going to interrupt me, tell me I’m wrong?”
“No,” Julia said calmly, hoping he didn’t know how exciting she found this moment and the man who was looking at her in such obvious frustration. “I was waiting for you to say something to which I might be moved to take exception. And you forgot contrary. My father always included contrary. Now take this blasted ring and get rid of it!”
