Gone With the Rogue Page 6

  “That was very kind of you, sir. I had no idea you were going to do that.”

  After her experience yesterday, Julia had sworn off catching butterflies or any other kind of insect to amuse her son. Chatwyn would have to be patient and look at them in flight or wait for them to settle on a flower or shrub before examining them.

  “Unfortunately, the netting was tangled to the point it couldn’t be saved and the webbing had to be cut away. I took the liberty of taking it to a shop to have it replaced. I’ll see it’s returned. I hope that’s acceptable to you.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” She felt her expression soften even more as she looked at him. If Mr. Stockton was a pirate, he was a thoughtful, heroic one. “I—it was nice of you to trouble yourself.”

  His gaze stayed on her. It was as if he were drinking in every detail of her face. It was odd but his attention made her feel warm and cared for. His interest in her was appreciated more than he could ever know.

  “It wasn’t any trouble, Lady Kitson.”

  “All the same, I should have thought to send someone to cut it down myself. I’m sure it would have been unsightly hanging there after all the leaves fall. Or heavens, I hadn’t even thought about the possibility until now, but some other insect or even a small bird might have become tangled in the netting and not been able to get away. I should have had more consideration about it, but I’m afraid I had other things on my mind. I’m grateful you remembered. Thank you.”

  He nodded and turned to Brina. “Mrs. Feld, I was sorry to hear about the loss of your husband. About everyone who was lost at sea that day.” He glanced briefly to Julia and then back to Brina. “Stewart was well respected by all who knew him.”

  An inquisitive softness fell across Brina’s face, and she took a step toward to Mr. Stockton. “You knew him?”

  “Before I left London the first time, and before he met you, we spent many evenings together playing cards. He was more skilled than I at hazard and roulette, all the games. He was an expert at the billiards tables, though that didn’t stop me nor anyone else from trying to beat him every chance we got. I don’t know of anyone who ever had a complaint about him. You get to know a man when he sits across a card table from you. Stewart was fair-minded and even-tempered whether winning or losing. He was the kind of man everyone wanted as their friend.”

  “Yes, he was, Mr. Stockton,” she said quietly. “He enjoyed life and took pleasure in watching others enjoy it, too.”

  “That’s the way I remember him, too. He was a worthy opponent shooting a pistol, musket, or bow, and he could fence better than most of us.”

  “Stewart loved all his pursuits, especially when putting his money on a successful race.” Brina breathed in heavily and smiled. “He always believed he had a good eye for a winning horse and was quite proud of all his horses.”

  “He was never boastful about it.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Brina agreed. “He was quite respectful about his attributes and accomplishments. Thank you for letting me know your memories of him, Mr. Stockton. That means more to me than you could possibly know. It’s been a long time since Stewart’s death, and not many people take the time to even mention his name to me anymore. I appreciate that you did.”

  Listening to Mr. Stockton converse with Brina about her husband touched Julia deeply. His voice was even, genuine, and considerate without a hint of placating. He believed what he was saying about Brina’s husband. There was nothing Mr. Stockton could have possibly said or done that would have pleased Julia more than his comforting words to her dear friend. And by Brina’s sweet expression, Julia had a feeling he’d just made a friend for life.

  Mr. Stockton nodded to Brina and then focused his attention back on Julia. She felt another tug at her heart as he looked at her, and she would love to be free to explore it and act on what she was feeling. Most any lady would be drawn to such a man. The difference was that Julia was no ordinary lady. She had boundaries the duke had put around her. She had to be sensible about Mr. Stockton.

  He’d said what he’d come to say. Much as she would like, she couldn’t let him linger.

  “Thank you for stopping by, and for removing the net from the tree.”

  “I was happy I could do that for you, Lady Kitson.”

  “If you’ll tell me the name of the shop where you left it, I’ll pick it up and save you the trouble of having to go back and worry with it.”

  He was silent for a moment and seemed to be seriously considering her suggestion, but then to her surprise, he said, “It’s no trouble for me. I left it there. I should be the one to pick it up and bring it back to you.”

  Julia’s breath fluttered in her throat. She would like that, too. But it was dangerous for her to encourage him no matter how much she liked the idea of doing so. “Perhaps you could return it to The Seafarer’s School for Girls. There’s a house in front of the school. I can pick it up from there.”

  “I’ll let you know when I’m going to do that.”

  As if sensing Julia’s frustration over the situation she was in, Brina walked over to stand beside her. “Lady Hallbury is having an afternoon tea on Saturday,” she informed Mr. Stockton. “Her parties are always a delight. Julia and I will be attending.”

  Brina looked at Julia and smiled so innocently Julia had no choice but to return her pleasant expression and say, “Yes. We will.”

  “Perhaps we’ll see you there, Mr. Stockton,” Brina added.

  Mr. Stockton nodded to Brina before his gaze swept over to Julia once again. A deep warm glow seemed to fill her. Yes. She would love to see him there.

  “It was my pleasure to see you, Lady Kitson.” He bowed, turned, and headed toward the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” Brina whispered. “Don’t just stand there.” She made brushing motions with her hands. “You must at least see him to the door. Go.”

  “I don’t need encouragement to do something I shouldn’t do.”

  A wild squeal of merriment startled Julia. The shrieking was followed by childlike laughter and little feet rushing down the stairway.

  Julia huffed. “Chatwyn knows better than to run down the stairs. I’ve told him a thousand times he’s going to fall and hurt himself one of these days.” She picked up her skirts and marched toward the corridor. “Chatwyn!” she called. “Slow down!”

  She entered the corridor in time to see her son careen into Mr. Stockton at the front door. Chatwyn giggled, wrapped both his arms around one of Mr. Stockton’s legs, and looked up at the man gleefully.

  Chapter 5

  Gasping in horror that her little boy would be so familiar as to lock his arms around a stranger’s thigh, or anyone’s, and be happy as a puppy while doing so, immobilized Julia. Mr. Stockton seemed completely calm. He looked down at Chatwyn, ruffled his hair a couple of times, and asked, “Who are you running from?”

  “Miss Periwinkle is after me.”

  Julia could only manage a whispered, “Chatwyn, what are you doing?”

  “Playing chase,” he answered loudly, looking around Mr. Stockton’s long, sturdy, and quite powerful-looking leg to stare at Julia. A gleam of youthful mischief shone in his bright blue eyes. He giggled again. “And I caught him. It’s his turn to chase me now.”

  “What?” Julia almost sputtered the word. “Absolutely not! Mr. Stockton isn’t playing with you. He is a guest in this house. Let go of him this instant!”

  Miss Periwinkle made it to the bottom of the stairs and assessed what was going on. “I am very sorry, my lady,” she said hastily. “I told him it wasn’t playtime but he can get past me so quickly. Master Chatwyn, you must come with me at once.”

  Chatwyn paid no mind to Julia nor to Miss Periwinkle. He continued to stare up at the man he held hostage, seeming captivated by him. Spurred into action, Julia rushed forward, and the timid Miss Periwinkle reached for Chatwyn.

  Mr. Stockton stayed the governess’s hand and glanced back to the distraught Julia. “He’s all right.
He’s just being a little boy.”

  “A very naughty boy,” Julia whispered under her breath, stopping beside the two.

  Mr. Stockton looked down at him, smiling. “It looks as if you won the game. I’m caught and can’t go anywhere.”

  “I’m fast and strong,” Chatwyn said. “Do you want to play chase with me?”

  Julia listened to her son in stunned disbelief, quite humiliated by his refusal to obey her command and let go of Mr. Stockton. “He’s not the duke, Chatwyn. He can’t play games with you.”

  “Your mother’s right,” Mr. Stockton said good-naturedly. “I can’t play with you today, but maybe another time.”

  “When?” her son asked.

  “I’ll have to discuss that with your mother and she’ll let you know.”

  Mr. Stockton glanced at Julia. She gave him a grateful smile. He was being kind and patient to a little boy who was misbehaving badly. Her heart softened even more toward the sojourner. “Chatwyn, you must let go of him now.”

  “I’m going to be tall like you when I get older,” Chatwyn said, continuing to ignore his mother completely. “When I turn five, I’ll be as tall and big as you are.”

  “You probably will.”

  “What’s your name?” Chatwyn asked.

  “That is none of your concern, young man,” Julia said sternly, having had enough of her son’s deliberate disobedience. “Let go of him this instant or you won’t be allowed to go outside for the rest of the day and maybe not for an entire week.”

  “Chatwyn,” Brina said, walking up to him with York ambling slowly behind. The old dog looked as if he had no clue as to what was going on in the entryway.

  Brina stopped beside Chatwyn and bent down to his level. “Look what I have here in my hand. I brought you something I think you will like very much.”

  Chatwyn’s blue gaze searched the pretty wrapped package she held. “What is it?”

  She placed it close to his face, and with a smile she said, “Smell this and I think you’ll know.”

  He leaned in and put his nose against the cloth. So did York, who had nudged in between them. There was no doubt when Chatwyn caught the scent of baked pastry and fruit filling. His eyes grew wide with delight. York’s tail started wagging and he licked his chops. He might have lost his hearing but not his sense of smell.

  “Mama, can I have one?” Chatwyn asked.

  “Of course, but you must—”

  Chatwyn didn’t wait to hear more. He let go of Mr. Stockton and reached for the tarts.

  Brina pulled them back just before his little hands closed around the fragrant bundle, and rose. “Not yet, my little friend. You can’t eat them here in the entryway. That wouldn’t be the polite thing for us to do. You must come with me and I’ll give you one—or two or maybe three if you are a good boy.”

  “I’ll be good.” He looked at Julia. “I love you, Mama.”

  Julia’s throat clogged with emotion.

  “Come on,” Brina said. She held out her hand to him. In an instant he reached up for her. Brina smiled at Julia. “No need to thank me. We’ll be in the breakfast room if you need us.”

  With a bob of her head, Julia motioned for Miss Periwinkle to go with them before taking in a deep breath and facing Mr. Stockton again. Their eyes met and held. What had just happened left her feeling drained, and strangely moved by how he’d talked to her son and how he’d looked at him so calmly and didn’t seem perturbed at all. She was grateful he wasn’t as horrified as she was by her little boy’s behavior.

  Instead of following the food as a younger dog would have done in hopes of a dropped crumb or two, York decided to sniff around Mr. Stockton’s boots. She reached down and tried to brush the old hound away, but he didn’t obey her any better than Chatwyn had.

  “I’m sorry for that display of childish behavior and his wanting to be in control,” she finally managed to say and hoped Mr. Stockton didn’t hear the catch in her breath. “Chatwyn is still learning his manners and, apparently, has further to go than I realized.”

  “He was fine. He behaves better than some of the men I’ve sailed with.”

  His words comforted her and she whispered a laugh. “I remember you saying yesterday you didn’t know much about children. That can’t be true. You certainly showed you know how to handle a rambunctious little boy. You didn’t blink an eye at his overactive behavior.”

  Mr. Stockton looked thoughtful, as if he were weighing whether or not he wanted to say what had entered his mind. He must have decided against whatever it was because he looked down at York, who acknowledged him with a woof.

  “What’s this fellow’s name?” he asked, and knelt on one knee to rub the foxhound’s head, behind his ears, and down the back of his thinning fur.

  “I call him York, but I don’t think it matters. He doesn’t hear very well and no longer bothers to be inquisitive about most things.”

  “He has a few years on him.”

  “Yes,” Julia agreed softly, thinking of her fondness for the old hound. “I have no idea how many.”

  “So you haven’t had him since he was a pup?”

  “No, only a little over a year. I’m glad to see him moving around today. The journey from Sprogsfield this week was hard on his bones. But he’s getting up and walking better now that he’s had time to recover from being curled upon the floor of a coach for the better part of two days.”

  Mr. Stockton gave her a quizzical look and rose. “Does he belong to the duke?”

  As if sensing he’d gotten all the attention he was going to get, York turned away from them and slowly walked down the corridor toward the breakfast room.

  “Heavens, no. I found him on a street here in London. He was so thin, dirty, and hungry, of course. I brought him home with me. Since I was a child I’ve had a fondness for old dogs. They’re so gentle and seldom seek attention like the younger ones. I only take in strays who are older and can’t take care of themselves anymore. I enjoy giving a little comfort to them in the last years of their lives—no matter how long that might be. When York is gone, I’ll find another to care for.”

  Mr. Stockton’s steady gaze didn’t give away his thoughts. All resolve she had not to be tempted by the adventurer fell away from her as easily as rose oil gliding across her skin.

  She didn’t know why, but she felt as if he wanted to reach over and touch her cheek, brush his thumb across her lips, and then let his fingertips trickle down her neck while kissing her softly. And she would have let him, but he made no move to do so. It was odd, but she had the feeling he wanted her to make the first move. She was tempted to do just that even though it was foolish to think about the possibility of doing such a dangerous thing. Mrs. Desford could walk past the doorway at any moment.

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever met a lady quite like you before, Lady Kitson. Freeing trapped butterflies and saving old dogs. You obviously have a very tender heart.”

  She did have a love for all animals and couldn’t bear to see them mistreated or neglected. “You forgot educating girls, Mr. Stockton,” she said with a hint of pride in her tone. “With the school, I’m helping improve their lives now and for their future. They will have the skills of a seamstress when they finish and will be able to take care of themselves, should they ever need to do so. I’m quite pleased about that accomplishment, too.”

  He stepped in closer to her. “I don’t know how I could have forgotten that.”

  “You probably have no idea why I’m so interested in the school, do you?”

  “I know,” he answered softly. “I wasn’t without news of London while away. I received mail in India and Turkey. I mentioned my childhood friend who will be getting married, Wiley Calder. He and my manager, Mr. Urswick, keep in touch with me when I’m away. Whenever letters or financial papers were sent to me, newsprints and other readings from home they thought might be of interest were always included.”

  Julia puffed out a soft laugh. “By other, do you perhaps mean th
e gossip pages and scandal sheets? Do you dare admit you read them?”

  He met her teasing with all the confidence a rogue should have. “I read each one and was happy to get them. No matter how far away I was, how eager I was to see different places and experience the different customs in the world, I was always eager to receive news from England.”

  “I’m sure I would be that way, too. Why do you stay away for so long each time?”

  “There has never been a reason not to. Mr. Urswick is the most intelligent man I’ve ever met. He’s a genius with numbers and details. I trust him to manage the day-to-day business of my company.”

  “You are fortunate to have him and such trust in what he does for you.”

  Mr. Stockton nodded.

  With conflicting emotions, she said, “You didn’t come over here just to tell me you went back to get the butterfly net, did you?”

  “No,” he said with remarkable ease, taking a step closer to her. “I wanted to see you again.”

  A delicious tingling sensation rippled through her chest and spiraled down to her abdomen. She’d wanted to see him again, too, and was glad he’d admitted it even though she couldn’t. He was a rogue with no ties and no restrictions. He could be forward. She liked that.

  She didn’t need to have what he was implying spelled out for her. It was probably scandalous of her to want to know. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop the word “Why?” from slipping off her tongue.

  He remained at his comfortable stance and offered, “I wanted to know if seeing you today would make me feel the same way I felt when I first saw you standing in the tree.”

  Unable to bear not knowing, she asked, “What is the answer to that?”

  “I do feel the same way.” His gaze was intense but his voice soft.

  Her throat tightened, shortening her breaths even more. His answer led to more questions she didn’t need to ask, didn’t need to know the answer to. He admitted his attraction to her was as real as hers was to him. That should have been enough. She didn’t need to fuel the fire going on inside her, but one thought was saying, Don’t ask anything else. He is nothing but a danger to you. Show him the door. But another, stronger voice was demanding she ask him, How do I make you feel? Tell me everything you are feeling and make me yearn for your touch.