A Gentleman By Any Other Name (21 page)

Chance reluctantly slid his hands back down to Julia's waist, not because he didn't want her but because he was beginning to think she was experimenting with him, this woman he'd shown the pleasure men and women could share.

He might worry that another woman would believe herself in love with him merely because he'd come to her bed, given and taken pleasure there. But Julia Carruthers wasn't other women and far from gullible. She knew why he'd come to her—she'd told him as much—and no one could believe herself in love with a man who would do anything so low, so base.

No, she didn't really want
him.
She wanted
it.
Miss Prim and Proper had turned overnight into a wanton, and that transformation was
his
fault.

So why shouldn't he reap the benefits?

Because he was a gentleman, damn it, and if not that, he was a man with at least some semblance of a conscience.

Chance pushed her slightly away from him, pressed several more kisses against her face, then stepped back. “I really have to go now.”

“Yes…you really should. They'll be waiting.”

“Don't worry. Billy hasn't boxed my ears in some time now.”

He got as far as the door before turning around to take one last look at this woman who had so quickly gotten beneath his skin, annoying him, rousing him, maddening him.

Julia still stood near the window, looking at him as the early afternoon light haloed around her. She lifted a hand and pressed her fingertips to her swollen mouth, hardly able to believe she'd behaved so recklessly…and that she still wanted him so much.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Chance said, turning the key in the lock and already unbuttoning his shirt as he stormed back across the room. “Let them wait.”

Julia was in his arms again almost before she could register what was happening, and moments later, their mouths fused together, she was lying on her back on the bedspread.

The flare of passion was instantaneous and fierce. They kissed again and again, nipped at each other, tasted each other, and all while working to remove each other's clothes.

Julia's gown was at her waist before she could push Chance's shirt from his shoulders, so he finished the job for her, then began unbuttoning his pantaloons as he knelt over her, looking at her upper body with an intensity that she felt tauten her nipples in response.

“Hurry.”

Julia had said the word. She heard herself say the word, her voice all but pleading with him. And she didn't care. She just wanted him to
hurry.

She felt his hands on her thighs as he pushed up her gown, then slipped her underclothes down past her knees before settling himself against her. Just the thought of their shared state of partial dress, the urgency they both felt, ignited her passion to the point where such sudden, unseemly haste seemed perfectly reasonable.

Chance bowed his head toward Julia's breasts, licking the valley between them as he looked up at her, heard her sharp intake of breath. And when he covered her nipple with his mouth, the low, purring sound she made in her throat made him realize that not only was she ready for him, he was in danger of disgracing himself if he didn't take her, take her now.

He raised himself slightly to position himself better between her legs, then slipped inside her in one long glide, deep into the moist heat that awaited him. Captured him. Held him.

Julia wanted to lift her legs up and around him, as he had taught her last night, but her underclothes were tangled around her ankles. She whimpered in frustration and pulled him close against her so that she could hold him.

Chance felt his already nearly frantic passion building as his heart pounded, as he found it difficult to breathe. He plunged faster, deeper, while Julia matched him thrust for thrust.

There was nothing gentle here, nothing. This was two people in need, each of them demanding something from the other. A mindless coupling that moved them forward, took them deeper and higher and finally exploded all around them before they came crashing back to earth together.

And all Julia wanted to do now was hold him and kiss him and kiss him again.

And all Chance could think now was that he'd lost all control of himself and spilled his seed in Julia. And he didn't care.

Julia did her best to slow her breathing, and then Chance kissed her one last time, smoothed back her hair and left the bed to snatch up a towel from the washstand, keeping his back to her as he buttoned his pantaloons.

He turned to her then, reaching for his shirt, and Julia finally came back to her senses. She tried to push down the skirt of her gown even as she pulled the bodice up and over her breasts.

“No, don't do that, please. A man about to go off on a journey should carry with him the memory of why he can't wait to return,” Chance told her quietly, pushing down her bodice once more, then kissed her breasts before stepping away again, smiling down at her. “Here, what's this?”

Julia immediately knew what he was referring to—the black grosgrain ribbon she'd tied around the strap of her shift. She put her hand over it, thanking her lucky stars that her
gad,
at least, was safely hidden in her dressing table. “It's…it's nothing.”

“No,” Chance said. He pushed her hand away and looked at the bow visible on her shift. “It's a tie for my hair. I left it here last night, didn't I?”

“You may have,” Julia said, looking past him. Which was silly. She'd just made love with the man, certainly she could talk to him. But she couldn't. Now who was foolish?

Chance pushed a little harder, caught between amusement and bafflement, with just a bit of pride mixed in, not that he'd think about that right now. “And you're wearing it. Over your heart, too.”

“I tied it there so I'd remember to give it back to you,” Julia said, keeping her eyes averted. “Isn't Billy waiting for you?”

Chance would have pushed some more, but even a stupid man, he believed, could recognize when it was time to withdraw from the field. “Julia Carruthers, you are an endless source of wonder to me. Just when I think I'm beginning to understand you I…You're right, I've got to go now.”

Which is how Julia came to be lying on her side, totally bemused, her skirts barely covering her hips, her breasts bared, like some creature in a Renaissance painting, watching Chance Becket walk away from her.

“Please be careful,” she whispered as the door closed behind him and she sank back against the mattress, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Don't do anything brave.”

J
ULIA DIDN'T GO
downstairs until the second dinner gong had rung, hoping to avoid conversation with the family in the main salon and holding on to Alice's hand because…because she was a selfish, craven coward, that's what she was.

“I like it here,” Alice told her as, still holding Julia's hand, she jumped off the last stair, landing gracefully in her satin soft-soled slippers, her curls bouncing around her smiling face. “Everyone is so very nice, and I'm not stuck away in the nursery eating porridge. Although Buttercup will miss me horribly. Could I please go back upstairs and—”

“I don't think there's a place laid for Buttercup, sweetheart,” Julia said, smiling, then swiftly said something to divert the child. “But I have heard that you will sit beside Callie at every meal now that you behaved so well at luncheon this afternoon, and she's almost as fine a companion as Buttercup, isn't she?”

Alice became very solemn. “She's better, but we can't tell Buttercup because she'll be sad.”

Walking slowly, in no hurry to enter the dining room, Julia said, “I thought Buttercup was a boy rabbit.”

“He
was,
but Callie and I decided that no boys should be allowed in the nursery, so now he's a girl. We don't like boys. They're very fickle, you understand. We took a pact and everything.”

Now Julia grinned. “Is that so? Well, my darling, I think that's very wise of you and Callie.”

“She says so. That we're even brilliant, because boys are lower than snails, and that's quite low. Julia? What's a fickle?”

“Um…well…I suppose Callie meant that a fickle person plays with you very nicely one day and then ignores you the next—and for no good reason, too,” Julia said, trying not to think of Chance as she explained.

“Oh. Like Court being nice to Callie, tossing a ball with her one day and then when she wants to play again today, calling her a pernikious brat and telling her to go away?”

“Pernicious, sweetheart. And yes, that's it exactly,” Julia said as they entered the dining room to see half the chairs still empty. Spencer was there, his left arm in a sling, his expression bordering on petulant, as if he dared anyone to say he was still too sick to have left his bed, but he was the only male Becket present.

Julia knew where Chance had gone, but to see that Rian, Court and Ainsley were also absent? Clearly something was afoot. And just as clearly she shouldn't comment on that fact.

“Come sit next to me, Alice,” Cassandra called out cheerfully. “We're all just sitting where we want to tonight, except for Spence, of course. He'd rather be in Hades than here with all us
girls.
”

“Stubble it, brat,” Spence growled halfheartedly, reaching for his wineglass as Julia sat down beside him.

Morgan, who was already seated across the table from her brother, made an elaborate business out of unfolding her serviette and placing it in her lap. “My, aren't you the cheery one, Spencer Becket. What's the matter? Wouldn't the other boys invite you along to play?”

“That means they're all fickles, and shame on them,” Alice solemnly informed Julia as she tucked a linen serviette into the neck of the child's pretty pink gown, just as her father had done for her when she was a little girl.

“Yes, dear,” Julia said, biting back a nervous giggle. “But we're polite ladies and we don't make such comments in company.”

“Oh. But they
are
fickles, aren't they?”

While Morgan and Spencer continued their argument, Julia tapped a finger against her own lips before intoning seriously, “Porridge. Nursery.”

“I'm sorry.” Alice pulled a comical face and quickly turned to speak with Cassandra.

“Morgan,” Elly said quietly from the head of the table, her chin lowered as she appeared to be inspecting her water glass, “that will be enough, thank you,” and both Morgan and Spencer went silent, holding their argument to glares across the table.

Then Eleanor looked up, smiled at Julia, who was suitably impressed with the seemingly fragile young woman's quiet air of command. “Papa and everyone went to the
Last Voyage
to visit with our friends, something they do once a week, leaving us ladies on our own. Poor Spence couldn't go with them, not with his injured arm.”

“Yes, your arm,” Julia said, something contrary in her not about to willingly swallow Elly's fib. Either these people trusted her, let her in, or she would be as contrary as she wished to be. Even if her papa was sitting on some lovely cloud, tsk-tsking and racing to convince the other angels that he'd “raised the child up much better than this.”

So looking, she hoped, merely idly curious, she asked, “How did you come to injure your arm, Spence? A sprain, I suppose? I did notice that your mount had suffered some sort of…misadventure. Did you fall off?”

“I most certainly did not,” Spencer shot back angrily. “And where's Fanny? Why is she always late?”

Morgan dipped her spoon into the soup that had already been set before everyone. “To annoy you would be my guess, brother dear. Oh, here she comes now.” Then in a low whisper Morgan added, “Bloody hell.”

Julia, whose back was to the door, turned in her chair to see Fanny entering the dining room on the arm of Lieutenant Diamond. There was color in the girl's cheeks, but all the flawless Irish complexion around those 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—”