Ransome's Crossing (2 page)

“As you should know by now,” Julia said, climbing off the bed and crossing to her dressing table, “my father does nothing unless he thinks it best for the Royal Navy.” Drawing her hairbrush through her fountain of hair, she ambled across the colorful carpet toward him. “He secured your promotion before he knew of our engagement, so that did not have any bearing on his decision.” She pulled the mass of her hair over her left shoulder and continued pulling the soft bristles of the brush through it. “And when have you ever worried about rumors going around about your being favored by my father?” A mischievous grin quirked the corners of her full lips. “Isn’t worrying about rumors and gossip what got us here in the first place?”

The fact she’d forgiven him, that she could now joke about the past, both thrilled and humbled him. He did not deserve her.

She set the brush down and came to stand behind him, looking around him at the reflection. She ran her hand along his sleeve to the braid-laden cuff. His arm tingled in reaction. He did not want to respond to her like this—every time she spoke, moved, breathed, he lost track of everything but her. He had to conquer it; otherwise, her presence aboard ship would be detrimental to his command.

A knock on the door roused both of them. The maid Lady Dalrymple had assigned to Julia entered on Julia’s entreaty.

“I will leave you.” William inclined his head and made for the door, and then he stopped as soon as he reached it. He turned and smiled at her. “Do not be long.”

“I will join you for breakfast shortly.”

He stood in the hallway a few moments after the door closed,
separating him from Julia for the first time since their wedding yesterday morning. Pleasure and regret battled within him. Marrying Julia Witherington had, in less than twenty-four hours, brought him more joy than he could ever have dreamed or deserved. Yet when he thought of his duty, of his commitment to the Royal Navy, to king and country, he couldn’t help but fear he’d made his life more difficult by marrying at such a time.

The east wing of the manor house at Brampton Park, home to Lady Dalrymple, rang with emptiness. While William appreciated the privacy afforded them by the dowager viscountess’s invitation to stay in the unused section for their wedding night—with hints she would like them to stay even longer—the grandeur of it made his skin crawl, and he could not wait until he could deposit Julia at her father’s house and return to his ship.

After two wrong turns, he managed to find the small breakfast room, unused for nearly a century according to Lady Dalrymple, since the new wing and the much larger dining room had been completed.

The small room, paneled with dark wood, set him somewhat more at ease. By ignoring the narrow, tall windows, he could almost imagine himself aboard a ship in this room.

He paced, waiting for Julia, pondering how he could recover his good sense around her. When she entered the room a little while later—queenly in a purple dress, her hair the only crown she would ever need—he realized the only way he would be able to regain control of his mind would be to limit his contact with her.

Trying not to watch her serve eggs, sausage, and toast onto her plate, nor admire the curve of her neck above the lace set into the neck of her gown, William piled food onto his own plate, held Julia’s chair for her, and then took his place at the head of the small table.

“I must return to my ship today.”

Julia stirred sugar into her coffee. “Of course. I knew you would need to spend your days preparing
Alexandra
for the voyage.”

He cleared his throat of the bite of egg that wished to lodge there. “What I mean is that I must return to
reside
aboard my ship.”

Julia’s spoon clanked against her cup. Her face paled, and the light which had danced in her eyes all morning vanished.

William’s innards clenched. Perhaps he should have eased into the idea instead of blurting it out. He blamed it on her. He could not think clearly in her presence.

“Have…have you received word from your crew that there is trouble?” Her voice quavered.

“No. It is nothing like that.” Unable to stop himself, he reached across the corner of the table and took her hand in his. “My duty is to my ship, to my crew. I am needed there. Here, my attentions and loyalty are divided.”

For a brief moment, Julia’s chin quivered. But she pressed her lips together and drew in a deep breath. “I understand. And I have no desire to draw you away from your duties. I have already created too much inconvenience and upheaval in your life. I do not wish to generate more. However, I have promised Lady Dalrymple we would join her tonight for her dinner and card party as her honored guests. If we were to abdicate from her hospitality today, how would that reflect on her?”

Though well masked, the pain in Julia’s expression made William want to retract his words, to promise her he would stay here with her the remainder of the time they had in England. Any other woman would have been offended by his blundering, unreasonable demand. Julia apologized for inconveniencing him.

He raised her hand and kissed the back of it. “Aye. We will stay one more night.” Then, giving in to impulse, he leaned over, cupped that quivering chin, and claimed her lips in a searing kiss. “And I will not have you thinking yourself an inconvenience to me.”

His action resulted in the desired effect—the spark rekindled in her green eyes. She ran her finger along his jaw. “You lie too well, Commodore Ransome.”

“You start off our marriage ill, Mrs. Ransome, if you believe I would ever lie to you.” He squeezed her hand and then tucked in to his breakfast.

“Conceal the hard truth, then,” she said, cocking her head and sending the spiral curls at her temples dancing, “for the last few days have not been a convenience to you.”

“An upheaval, certainly.” He feigned a close interest in the piece of sausage speared on his fork. “However, any inconvenience I have suffered has been more than adequately recompensed not just by gaining a wife, but by finally receiving the complete approbation of my admiral.”

Julia’s gasp preceded a gale of laughter.

A surge of contentment washed away the morning’s anxieties. Perhaps being married would not interfere with his duty to the navy as severely as he’d feared.

C
harlotte divested herself of her hat and gloves, absently handing them to the butler. Though she’d spent above an hour here yesterday for William and Julia’s wedding breakfast, the lack of scores of well-wishers milling about seemed only to emphasize the vastness of the hall. Overhead, a crystal chandelier sparkled in the sunlight streaming in from the windows high above the front door.

“This way, miss.” A woman in an indigo dress with a large ring of keys at her waist bent her knees to Charlotte and motioned her farther into the grand entry hall of Brampton Park.

Paintings of dour-looking men in brown and black velvet coats adorned with gold medallions about their shoulders, and women in various shades of silks and satins, with high powdered wigs, white faces, and enormous skirts, stared at Charlotte as she moved past them. The portraits’ eyes followed her as if they knew the secret she carried in her heart, the plan she meant to execute now that she was here.

Nonsense. She raised her chin and infused her gait with confidence. Any risk was worthwhile if it meant she would be reunited with Henry.

The woman in blue opened a set of double doors near the end of the hall. She entered and stepped to one side. “Miss Charlotte Ransome, my lady.”

Charlotte stepped forward into the room and dropped into a deep, formal curtsey.

“My dear Miss Ransome.” The dowager Viscountess Lady Dalrymple motioned Charlotte into the cavernous sitting room.

Charlotte traversed the distance between them quickly, excitement and trepidation growing with each step. She stopped beside the chair adjacent to the one occupied by her patroness.

She bent her knees in another shallow curtsey. “Lady Dalrymple, once again I would like to extend my gratitude—and that of my mother—for your generous invitation to me.”

“Tosh. It is you who are granting me the favor, Charlotte, by bringing youth and vitality back into this house.” She looked beyond Charlotte. “Come forward, Melling.”

The woman in blue did as commanded.

“Miss Ransome, this is my housekeeper, Mrs. Melling. If you have need of anything, let her know. Melling, please see to assigning a maid to attend to Miss Ransome.”

“Yes, my lady.”

At Lady Dalrymple’s nod, Mrs. Melling curtseyed and left the room.

“Come sit, Charlotte. We must discuss the plans for your ball Saturday night. My dressmaker will be here within the hour to take your measurements.” She clasped her hands together in an expression of excitement as if she were no older than Charlotte’s seventeen years rather than of an age with Charlotte’s own dear mama.

“I am under no delusion that you will want to spend all of your hours with me. And, once your brother and new sister have taken their leave of us tomorrow, I will be installing you in the east wing, where you will be able to come and go as you please.”

“Are William and Julia here even yet?” Charlotte had overheard Lady Dalrymple extend an invitation to William and Julia for them to stay here as long as they pleased after the wedding, but she’d assumed William turned it down, given his aversion to grandeur and the appearance of putting on airs.

“They are currently out—something about your brother’s ship and Julia’s cargo. But they promised to return in time for supper before my
card party this evening. I have invited quite a number of young people, so I am certain there shall be dancing.” Lady Dalrymple’s mismatched brown and blue eyes twinkled. “An opportune way for you to determine with whom you will choose to lead off your ball.”

Heat rushed into Charlotte’s face as quickly as a certain handsome face filled her mind’s eye, but it wasn’t the image of Henry Winchester. “Yes, it will be good to have the question of my first partner settled before the night arrives.”

“I see your blushes, Miss Ransome. And I can well imagine the honorable Mr. F finds them quite as becoming.”

Charlotte flinched and then almost laughed. Yes, Percy Fairfax, second son of the baron, had shown her quite the attentions at his parents’ ball a few weeks ago, as well as at the wedding breakfast yesterday. But though she enjoyed his company, it was not his striking tall figure or his curly brown hair she continually dwelled on.

“Mr. Fairfax honors me with his indulgent attentions.”

Lady Dalrymple sighed. “If we do not see you married by Michaelmas, I shall be quite astonished.”

Charlotte couldn’t stop the grin that stole across her face. “Perhaps not so soon, my lady, but hopefully not too long after.” They might not make dock in Jamaica before the twenty-ninth of September.

The viscountess’s laugh rang through the large room. “Dear, dear, Charlotte. We shall have such fun, you and I.” She rang the little silver bell on the table beside her.

Mrs. Melling appeared moments later. “Yes, my lady?”

“Please see Miss Ransome to her temporary quarters so she can refresh herself before the dressmaker arrives.”

Both Charlotte and Mrs. Melling curtsied before leaving the room. Charlotte tried not to gape at the antique opulence surrounding her as she followed the housekeeper upstairs and through several long hallways. She counted no fewer than six maids, who all stepped aside and gave a quick dip of the knees to Charlotte before scurrying on about their duties.

Finally, Mrs. Melling stopped and entered a room. Charlotte paused
just a few steps in—and wanted to ask Mrs. Melling if she was certain this was
her
bedchamber and not Lady Dalrymple’s. Surely not even St. James’s Palace boasted rooms so grand.

“This is Martha, your lady’s maid.”

A girl who couldn’t be any older than Charlotte stood near the vanity table. Charlotte inclined her head in response to the maid’s curtsey before she remembered her status of honored guest in this house—someone expected to not take notice of people of Martha’s station.

Mrs. Melling’s lips drew into a disapproving straight line. “My lady receives callers beginning at one o’clock every day. The dressmaker will come to your quarters, so there is no need for you to return to the parlor until she is finished with you.” A kindly look entered the housekeeper’s dark eyes. “Martha can show you the way. It can take one quite some time to find her way around Brampton.” She swept out the door, keys jangling at her side.

Charlotte looked around the room once again. Her eyes lighted on the vanity, where her own ivory-handled brush and mirror sat on a silver tray.

Her heart nearly failed. Frantically, she looked around.

“Is something wrong, miss?” Martha took a step toward her.

“My…valise. Where is it?”

“I unpacked it for you, miss. I was just starting on your trunk. I’ll need to send your dresses down to have them sponged and pressed. Terrible wrinkled, they are.”

Charlotte’s heart raced as if she’d run the three miles here from town. “I’ll do that, Martha. I won’t need everything out of it.” She could not run the risk of Martha’s finding the uniform buried at the bottom.
Buried at the bottom…
Henry’s letters! Her heart pounded harder. “You unpacked
everything
from my valise?”

“I put all of your underthings in the wardrobe. And your stationery and letters and aught on the desk, miss.” The edge of panic in the maid’s voice cracked through Charlotte’s.

She took a deep breath to try to calm herself. “Thank you, Martha.” Though she longed to run to the desk and grab up the ribbon-tied
packet of letters she could now see, doing so would only draw undue attention and suspicion.

Julia folded her hands in her lap and observed her father. He seemed to be struggling to digest everything she was telling him about what had happened during his recent absence. “And then Aunt Hedwig—Lady MacDougall—gave me a letter she wanted me to copy in my own hand breaking my engagement to William and announcing my intention to marry Sir Drake. They gave me time to consider my decision. When Lady MacDougall called me into her presence again, I tore up the letter and told them I would not comply. I told them I would not dishonor you or William, or myself, by allowing myself to be party to their lies and schemes.”

Sir Edward grunted, but he did not interrupt her.

“They locked me in the bedchamber again. But I knew I had to get away from them to keep them from destroying everything. I picked the lock and had just run out the front door when William and Collin arrived.” An involuntary shiver passed over her at the flood of relief—and love—his timely arrival had brought. “The constable and the debt collector arrived shortly thereafter. My cousin tried to run, but they subdued him.”

His expression stony, he raised his eyes to meet hers. “It is certain they took your cousin into custody?”

“Yes.”

“Clapped in irons, I hope.”

“No. But at gunpoint. We did not stay to see what happened next. As you can imagine, we were anxious to return to Portsmouth.”

Sir Edward reclined against the back of his chair, fingertips pressed together just under his chin. “If I had not already signed Ransome’s promotion orders, I would promote him after his gallantry.” He smiled at Julia. “And you are to be commended as well, my dear, for your quick thinking and your defense of the honor of us all.”

Pleasured heat filled Julia’s cheeks. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Your marriage pleases me. I cannot pretend to have been unaware of the events that occurred twelve years ago. Ransome came to me, seeking my counsel on his regard for you. He felt his situation made him unworthy of your affection and unsuitable for you. I told him then, as I could see his potential for future promotion and wealth, that he had my blessing to marry you.”

Julia caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from interrupting him with the questions whirling through her head.

“When your mother told me he had not made the offer, I must admit my disappointment. Ever since Michael…” he cleared his throat. “Ever since Michael’s death, I filled the gap caused by the pain of that loss with my affection and admiration for William Ransome. And when I saw your open admiration for him during the Peace of Amiens, I dreamed of having the right to call him son.”

She dropped her gaze to her twined fingers. She’d always suspected her father had transferred his affection from his real son to William, but to hear confirmation of it dredged up uncomfortable stirrings of resentment toward him she wished she no longer felt.

“When Ransome left,” Sir Edward continued, “and I saw how much his abdication pained you, I was distraught. I was faced full force with the truth: William Ransome was not my son and might not ever be. The grief I’d been holding at bay fell upon me like a hurricane. Grief for my lost son, grief for the hard way I treated him to try to make him into my image, and grief from the shame of trying to replace my boy with my dead friend’s son instead of facing my pain and loss like a man.”

Julia dashed away a tear before it could complete its journey down her cheek. The ring William had placed on her finger yesterday sparkled in the sunlight filtering in through the window behind her father.

The admiral came around the desk and knelt in front of Julia, covering her hands with his. “I know you have struggled with anger toward me over the years.”

Julia couldn’t raise her eyes to meet her father’s. The truth of his
words dredged up guilt and shame, built along with the resentment she’d held toward him for too many years.

“And I need you to know that no matter how much I regard and respect William Ransome, he is no replacement for Michael, just as I am not a replacement for William’s father. Living with that illusion only made the pain worse when I faced it—for I had dishonored my son’s memory by trying to pretend I did not grieve for the loss of my boy.”

Julia pulled her hand out from under her father’s and wiped at her tears. “Why are you telling me this, Papa?”

“I could not allow you to leave while you thought ill of me and my regard for your husband.” He reached into a pocket and produced a handkerchief—one she’d monogrammed for him.

She took it and dried her eyes. “I have spent the last weeks longing for Jamaica. Now that I am about to go, I feel as if it is too soon.” She squeezed his hand and searched the depths of his green eyes. “You will come to Tierra Dulce soon?”