been out of desperation, of course. Once he’d sent the letter off to Ainsley, once he’d made up his mind that he had no logical recourse but to go back to Becket Hall with Alice, he’d had no choice but to stay with his plans, even when Mrs. Jenkins proved unacceptable.
Those were his reasons, along with the way Julia Carruthers had appealed to him physically. A welcome surprise to sweeten the large bite of crow he would swallow once he stood in the same room with Ainsley Becket.
Even now, when he knew Julia was about to say something totally unacceptable and clearly out of line with her duties, all he wanted was to undo that ridiculous bun that was once more half sliding off her head, to learn if her honey-blond hair felt warm and silky under his hand.
“I would speak to you in the nursery, sir,” Julia said, and he nodded, knowing the only way out of this bedchamber was via that nursery and that Julia Carruthers would probably physically tackle him if he attempted to leave without listening to her as she gave her opinion on whatever was sticking in her craw.
Mrs. Jenkins, nipping gin and all, would have made a safer choice. Any woman who had not been raised near the coast in Kent would have been a better choice. Someone oblivious, someone who would keep her nose in the nursery and her opinions to herself.
But he had picked Julia Carruthers. And this woman knew. But did she know enough to watch her tongue?
If he managed to stifle her now, it would be only a temporary victory—and perhaps a very costly one, as well. For Julia was certain to pick at him and pick at him until she’d said what she felt needed to be said—probably at the most inopportune time and in the most dangerous company.
Chance retrieved his greatcoat and hat and followed Julia as if he were a schoolboy summoned to the headmaster’s office. Once they were in the nursery, he stood with his back to a piebald hobby horse he could remember as Cassandra’s favorite and ruled his expression unreadable.
And, fool that he was, he’d hope that Julia had some budget of complaints about something other than what had been made so glaringly and disgustingly obvious to him. “Well?”
Julia’s heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear its every beat. She pointed in the general direction of the center of the house and said, “You know what’s going on here? This Jacko person? And Billy? I never thought that Billy…although I should have…I’ve seen many a man like him walking the streets of Hawkhurst. They’re seamen—at least, they were. And men who have been to sea very often feel a kinship for the smugglers. Georgie and his brothers did a very dangerous and stupid thing that could bring trouble raining down on everyone. What’s really going to happen to Johnnie and Dickie? Are they in danger here?”
Chance clenched his hands into fists. She was going to ruin everything.
He had to shut her up. Now.
“I believe I can see where that vivid imagination of yours is taking you. Yes, Billy and Jacko were once sailors, years ago, and came here to Romney Marsh when we left the islands. But Billy’s far too lazy and Jacko far too fat and happy here for either of them to care about anything but their own comfort. This is Becket Hall, not your childhood home in Hawkhurst. You’re exhausted, Julia, darling, and our adventure on the Marsh and your very natural fatigue have made you fanciful,” Chance said, still with his back to the door and as, with eye shiftings accompanied by jerks of his thumb, he directed her attention to that open door.
Darling? Julia took a step back. What on earth? Someone was out there? Someone was listening?
And then she shut her eyes, realizing the mistake she’d made, before opening them wide again, looking straight into Chance’s face. “That is…oh, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Those poor boys, come upon by robbers out there on the Marsh. A person who grows up in Hawkhurst hears stories of the old days, you understand, and I was so tired, tending to Alice all day—she’s a sweet child, but her own fatigue made her a little fractious, didn’t it? I’m so sorry…” She took a deep breath, let it out in a rush and pushed on, taking her cue from him. “Dearest Chance. I’m seeing bogeymen, aren’t I? That will teach me to allow my imagination to wander.”
“Yes, it will, won’t it,” Chance said, looking into Julia’s frightened eyes and marking the rather alarming lack of color in her cheeks. She might be pluck to the backbone at times, but she could also topple in a faint at any moment. “But Alice is asleep now and we’re alone. Just let me close this door so no one disturbs us. I haven’t kissed you in hours.”
Well, that brought the color back into her cheeks!
“But…but don’t you think you should seek out your father…that is, Mr. Ainsley Becket? Jacko must have told him you’ve arrived.”
“He can wait. They can all wait. I can’t,” Chance said in a near growl, walking over to the door to the hallway now that he’d given anyone who might have been listening time to hide out of sight. He stepped into the hallway himself, and it was empty, as he’d expected, then backed into the room and closed the door. Locked it.
“Was…was anyone out there?” Julia asked, whispering.
He could say no. But that wouldn’t put the fear of God into her, would it? Besides, he knew Jacko. Jacko may have the size of a bear, but he moved like a cat. He knew the man had been there listening. “Yes, I saw Jacko, the back of him, sneaking into a room down the hall.”
“Oh, good God in Heaven,” Julia said as she clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking. “Do you think he heard me?”
Chance stepped closer. “I’m sure he did, but you didn’t say anything too dangerous. You’re concerned for the idiots we brought with us, that’s all. Ease your mind on that head at least, please. The boys and their family will be leaving the Marsh in the morning. I’m having them sent north, to my estate near Coventry, well clear of here. Now say whatever else it is you feel you must say and then we won’t discuss any of this again.”
Julia backed up two paces, because he was standing so close and she was suddenly very aware that he had earlier called her “darling.” She mined her brain for the list of questions she had for him and came up with the first that she recalled. “Why is Billy your coachman? He’s an atrocious coachman.”
Chance smiled. “I knew you’d have questions, but I hadn’t considered that one. But fair enough. Billy is my coachman because I choose that he be my coachman—and probably because he believes his life’s work is to protect me, from only God knows what.”
“He still walks as if he’s on a rolling deck,” Julia said, hoping to ease the tension that seemed to be increasing between them, a tension that had little to do with the questions in her head or the growing fear in her heart.
“He does that, doesn’t he?” Chance said, smiling. “Jacko was also a sailor, as you already guessed. Ainsley was a sailor. Most anyone you encounter here at Becket Hall might have gone to sea at some time. After all, we lived on an island. But that’s all it is, Julia. When we left the islands and came here, everyone gave up the sea. They gave up anything to do with the sea. Do you understand me?”
“You’re telling me that no one at Becket Hall is associated with the smugglers or even knows or cares about them. I understand.” She bit her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked at him, as everything seemed to fall into place for her, the pieces of the puzzle now all fitting together tightly, showing her a picture she’d rather not see. Did he think her a fool? “They know you are a part of the War Office.”
“Yes,
