Romney Marsh Trilogy: A Gentleman by Any Other Name / The Dangerous Debutante / Beware of Virtuous Women. Kasey Michaels
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two spots of color had gone deathly pale.
“Look who I found as I was returning from my walk,” she said, her cheerful tone not accompanied by a smile. “Lieutenant Diamond has come to see Chance and Papa. I’ve told him Chance is gone about the king’s business, didn’t I, Lieutenant?”
“That you did, Miss Fanny. Good evening Miss Becket, Miss Carruthers, ladies—and, of course, Mr. Becket,” Diamond said as he bowed, his eyes on Morgan, who was blinking rapidly in his direction, her flirtation just a tad overdone. “A fine man, your brother. But I did still hope to see Mr. Ainsley Becket on a matter that I’m sure is of no interest to you ladies.”
Spencer belatedly got to his feet, also to bow, although his greeting was more in the way of a short, sharp nod of his head. “As Fanny also probably already told you, our father isn’t here.”
Morgan rested her chin in her palm as she leaned one elbow on the table. “Oh, hush, Spence. And on the contrary, Lieutenant. I find your brave work with the dragoons highly interesting…and very exciting.”
“Morgan, sit back,” Elly said, “Juanita needs to put down those bowls.”
Julia was distracted for the moments it took Juanita to place a large bowl in the center of the table, then deftly follow up by transferring two heavy platters balanced on her beefy right arm to the table before turning on her heels and heading back toward the doorway that led to a set of stairs and the kitchens below.
Two things amazed Julia, had amazed her from the beginning, about the dining room at Becket Hall. One was that other than for the soup course (for everyone but Alice), the food was delivered in large bowls and platters, and everyone helped themselves, then passed the food to the next person. Highly informal, the Beckets dining as she and her papa had at the vicarage, with no attentive servants, no separate courses. Not at all, she knew from novels she had read, the way things were done in London society.
The other thing that amazed her, even more than Juanita’s bulk or the soft white blouse and many-colored striped skirt she wore, was the fact that the woman had no right hand.
Chance had told her there were two servants—she must really think of another way to think of these people than the ill-fitting title of servant—one man, one woman, each missing a hand. But she had thought he’d been teasing her. Was the penalty for thievery still the cutting off of a hand? Not here in England but on those islands she was so curious to learn about in more detail?
What did not amaze her was that Juanita was a part of this very unique household.
Julia was brought back to attention as Alice tugged on her sleeve. “Is Morgan a flirt, Julia?” the child asked, thankfully quietly. “Callie just said she’s an abomipal flirt.”
Julia swallowed a laugh, at the same time wishing the inquisitive Alice had held her question until after dinner, when she took the child upstairs to the nursery. “Abominable, dear, and no, she isn’t. She’s merely young.”
“No she’s not. I’m young.”
Julia patted Alice’s hand as she reconsidered the wisdom of allowing Alice at table, then whispered, “Later, sweetheart. Look, Callie’s spooning some peas onto your plate for you. Isn’t that nice? You told me you like peas.”
“I love peas. I just don’t like soup. It’s too dribbly,” Alice corrected and turned back to her plate.
This finally let Julia free to listen to the conversation taking place as Eleanor, their hostess, allowed Lieutenant Diamond to remain standing—a clear sign that he wasn’t going to be invited to break bread with the family.
“…unfortunately, we also discovered three fresh graves. Forgive me, I shouldn’t speak of such things in front of you ladies.”
“Only three?” Spencer whispered out of the corner of his mouth as he picked up his soup spoon, showing himself to be both daring and very young. “Perhaps the other two dug themselves out and ran away.”
Julia’s stomach did a small flip. Spencer had sounded quite happy. Had she really convinced herself that there was some sort of romance, some dash, in Chance riding out with the smugglers? There was no “romance” in dead bodies. Men most certainly were put together with more of a liking for bloodletting than were women, if she was to be any judge.
But even more than that, Lieutenant Diamond must be silenced, a thought that hit her only a heartbeat before Eleanor Becket said coolly, “There are children present, Lieutenant, the fact of which it should not be necessary to point out to a gentleman.”
“And there’s your problem,” Spencer said in between mouthfuls of soup, his unruly black curls half covering his face, and Julia believed she could actually feel the heat radiating from him. “You can put a pig in a scarlet coat. Doesn’t make him a gentleman. Does it, Lieutenant?”
Julia closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up at Lieutenant Diamond. There were inappropriate times, there were inappropriate questions. Alice had certainly proved both with her innocent questions. But then there was just opening one’s mouth and flat-out sticking one’s head on the block.
The soldier bowed twice, in both Spencer’s and Eleanor’s directions. “I accept that insult, sir, and offer a thousand apologies, Miss Becket. I only wished to inform your brother and Mr. Becket that these are dangerous times on the Marsh and becoming more so daily. It would appear we have our own war going on here, beyond that of our struggle against Napoleon.”
Then the lieutenant turned smartly once more, to look at Spencer. “I see you’ve been injured, Mr. Becket. Perhaps you could indulge an officer of the Crown and tell me how you came about that injury? Is it…recent?”
“I’ll bloody throw you out on your ear, that’s what I’ll do,” Spencer said, lifting his left arm and ruthlessly ripping off his sling. He tossed the black silk on the table, clearly ready to leave his chair so he could put his words into action.
Julia couldn’t help herself—she gave him a sharp, sideways kick under the table, the side of her shoe landing squarely against his anklebone. Spencer, who was already half out of his chair, abruptly sat down and turned to glare at her.
The tall, blond-haired soldier lifted his chin, looking down on Spencer. “My, Mr. Becket, guest as I am in this house, I must say your reluctance to cooperate with the king’s representative in this area is most disconcerting. Almost, Mr. Becket, as if you have something to hide.”
It was now or never, Julia decided. Either she was a part of this family or she wasn’t.
“Oh, Spence, calm yourself, please,” Julia said, laying a hand on his forearm. “There’s no need to be so gallant in my defense.”
Spencer frowned in obvious confusion. “I…but I want to—”
“Yes, dear, I know,” Julia continued quickly. “I had only begged your promise not to tell Chance, that’s all. I never meant to have you come under improper suspicion just to save my embarrassment.”
“But I—”
“Spence, let Julia speak,” Eleanor said from the end of the table. “It is, after all, her story to tell. Go on, please, Julia.”
Julia’s mind had been working nineteen to the dozen inventing a story that would completely protect Spencer, and now she took a steadying breath and looked at the lieutenant, whose fine English coloring was already, she noticed, going a little green.
“Miss Carruthers,” Lieutenant Diamond said hastily, “I assure you, I would not wish to embarrass you in any way or ask Mr. Spencer Becket to break a confidence. Mr. Chance Becket would be—”
“My fiancée would be extremely put out with me if I did not answer questions put by you, sir,” Julia told him, cutting him off, because this had to be said. “I was out walking by myself today—such a fine day, you’ll agree—and foolishly believed the handsome bay horse inside the stable yard fence wouldn’t mind if I stepped inside the fence to