Were this Tortuga, he would have covered her full mouth with his, allowed his fingers to free her hair from the bun as he pulled her close to kiss away the wry smile dancing about her lips. However, his good breeding, not to mention his status as George’s guest, prevented such a blatant breach of etiquette.
* * *
‘Julia!’ Emily appeared at the morning-room door. Julia stepped back, her cheeks burning, awkwardness replacing her courage. Silently, she cursed her impetuous nature, wondering what it was about the captain that kept causing her to forget herself. A few minutes in the gentleman’s presence and she was once again acting like a strumpet instead of a lady. How much had Emily heard? Hopefully nothing or she and Charles would feel vindicated in all their chastising.
Before anyone could say anything, baby Thomas’s wail filled the upstairs hallway and the nurse appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying the infant. He was only two months old, but he’d been born early and Emily fretted over him like no other well-born mother in the county.
‘Mrs Howard, it is time for his feeding,’ the nurse called over the screaming baby.
Emily glanced from the captain to Julia to upstairs, weighing her desire to reprimand with the need to see to her child. Luckily, Thomas’s cries grew louder, making the decision for her.
‘If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I must attend to my son.’ Emily shot Julia a silent warning before hurrying up to escort the nurse to the nursery. For all of Charles’s and Emily’s priggishness, they were firm believers in Rousseau’s ideas of breastfeeding. It was one of the few things Julia admired them for.
‘Despite being born two months early, my nephew has a healthy appetite and powerful lungs,’ Julia observed.
‘His lungs will serve him well if he enters Parliament. Like his father, his opinions will always be heard,’ Captain Covington teased.
Julia laughed, the captain’s joke putting her at ease. She was about to respond when a small cough from the landing interrupted them.
‘Good morning, Captain Covington.’ Annette glided down the stairs, her blue eyes raking over him. Dressed in a fashionable walking dress of expensive yellow silk, she stepped in between Julia and the captain. Her haughty air irked Julia and she clasped her hands together to keep from smacking the chit on the back of her elegantly coiffed blonde head. Though they were the same age, they had nothing in common and had never been more than civil to each other since Annette’s arrival.
‘Miss Taylor, a pleasure to see you again.’ The captain bowed over her extended hand, the relaxed Navy man from a moment before replaced by a proper gentleman.
Julia noted the change and her heart sank. Obviously, he respected the polished manners of a London lady to the questionable conduct of a country girl.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. Neither of them will be here for ever.
‘How are your dear sister and mother?’ Annette asked, her voice light and charming.
‘My sister Charlotte is in Wiltshire with her husband. My mother is with them at the moment, though she returns to town next week. She prefers London to the country.’
‘Who of us doesn’t?’ Simon yawned from the top of the stairs, his voice heavy with the Devonshire lisp so popular in town. Tall and lean, Simon wore a suit of the finest material cut tight to accentuate his slender body. He possessed the same sharp features as his sister, but the affected boredom of his dandified style softened them considerably.
Annette’s face reddened at Simon’s remark. ‘You remember my brother?’
‘Of course.’ Both men nodded to one another, no affection lost on either side.
‘We are going to the local town. Please join us for I’m eager for some society after such isolation.’
‘Did I hear someone suggest a ride into Daringford?’ Uncle George asked, coming up behind the captain.
‘Yes. Care to join us?’ Captain Covington invited.
While they made their plans, Julia started up the stairs, sure no one would notice her absence. They had each other; they did not need her. She froze when the captain called out to her.
‘Miss Howard, would you like to join us?’
Surveying the waiting group, Julia wondered how much more of his company she could endure without gaining a reputation as a hoyden. Until she could learn to control her tongue in his presence, it was probably better to avoid him. She moved to make her excuses when Annette’s condescending sweep of Julia’s riding habit changed her mind. ‘Yes, but allow me to change. I’ll only be a moment.’
‘Your dress is passable. Come and let’s be off,’ Uncle George impatiently called.
Julia reluctantly stepped off the stairs. Emily would have a fit if she knew Julia wore her old riding habit into town. Oh, well, what was one more reprimand? Besides, it was worth the rebuke to annoy Annette.
‘Come, Captain Covington.’ Annette motioned for his arm and like a true gentleman he offered it, leading her outside to the waiting carriage. Julia watched the way her stepcousin moved, the rich material and fine cut of her dress emphasising her willowy figure. A slight twinge of jealousy took hold and Julia wondered if things would be different if she made an effort to dress so well every day or demonstrate proper, genteel manners.
‘My lady.’ Uncle George offered her his arm with an exaggerated flourish.
‘Why, thank you, sir,’ she answered with equally false formality.
‘What do you think of the captain?’ he asked in a low voice as they strolled out to the waiting carriage.
‘He strikes me as quite the man about town. He’s already caught Annette’s attention.’
‘Any man with a pocketbook catches her fancy,’ George huffed. ‘You shouldn’t let her have him.’
‘I have no interest in a Navy man, especially one with a thin London polish.’
‘He’s no Simon, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s rich, too. Thanks, I might say, in part to many of my lucrative schemes.’
Julia suppressed a laugh, knowing how proud Uncle George was of the numerous profitable ventures he’d embarked on during his time in the Navy. ‘Why did the captain resign?’
‘George, stop gossiping and get in,’ Captain Covington interrupted from beside the open carriage door. ‘No need to give away all my secrets on the first day.’
‘Not possible, Jim. You’ve got too many.’ Uncle George chuckled.
‘May I?’ Captain Covington held out his hand, a playful smile lighting up his face. Julia reached for his upturned palm, hesitating a moment before pushing against the strength of it to step up into the carriage.
‘Thank you.’ She didn’t dare meet his eyes, but slid across the squabs and settled in next to the far window, her hand still tingling from his touch. Uncle George sat beside her in an attempt to place some distance between her, Annette and Simon and she was grateful. The captain took a seat across from them, next to Annette, much to the chit’s
