Gone With the Rogue Page 9

  Feeling great concern for her friend and the seriousness of what she was considering, Julia moved over to sit on the cushion beside Brina. “Why do you think you would be happy at Pilwillow Crossings?”

  Brina faced her. “Because I’m not happy where I am.”

  Those were chilling words. “But you would have to take a vow. You would be giving up all that you were born into.”

  “No.” Brina smiled softly. “I checked into that. You need not worry that I am losing my mind. I’m not considering taking a vow of any kind, and it’s not necessary at this convent. There are women who live there who’ve never taken the vow and don’t intend to. That doesn’t mean they don’t have to obey all the rules that are set forth. They do. I know the solemnity of this action and that’s why I’m not rushing into a decision. It’s something I’m thinking about, and you should know I haven’t mentioned this to anyone else for now.”

  “You know I’ll keep your feelings quiet. And I agree it’s best not to tell your parents. Doing this would alter your life drastically, and there’s no reason to burden them with your thoughts until you have this more settled in your mind.”

  “That’s why I haven’t told anyone but you.”

  “You’re still so young, Brina, you—I truly want you to make the choice that’s best for you, but if you do decide to do this, and then later change your mind, would you be able to leave?”

  “Of course.” Brina laughed softly. “It’s not a prison. They only want women who want to help others.” A faraway look glistened in Brina’s eyes. “I do think I made the right decision when I returned to my parents’ home after Stewart’s passing. It’s been so easy to let them coddle me.”

  “And now you are wanting something more.”

  “Something different,” Brina corrected. “I just don’t know what it is yet. Why don’t you go with me to talk with them? I really need your help with this. Observe is all I’ve done, and only for short periods of time when I could escape from Mama.”

  “Yes, I’d very much like to go with you. Just let me know. I’ll find a reason to tell Mr. Pratt that Chatwyn isn’t available for instructions that day. I welcome a chance to do that.”

  “We’ll have to be very careful not to let anyone see us.”

  “We will. Just let me know when you have your date set. But tell me, how do you know so much about the abbey if all you have done is watch the goings on from afar?”

  “I sent my maid with a list of questions to ask and swore her to secrecy. She would never breathe a word to anyone about what I do.”

  “It appears we both have our secrets this summer.”

  “Yes,” Brina said with a resigned smile. “I’m glad you’ve returned to London so we can share them.”

  “So am I. It reminds me of when we were meeting with Adeline to plan for the girls’ school. We were so afraid someone would discover what we were doing and stop us before we could get it started.”

  “But no one did.”

  “That’s right,” Julia said as the coach rolled to a stop in front of Lady Hallbury’s house. If only they could be as successful now as they’d been with the school.

  Lady Hallbury always greeted her guests at the entrance to her formal garden. Most everyone in the ton, including Julia, considered the older countess eccentric. But no one would miss one of her parties—if they were fortunate enough to be invited.

  She wore a halo of fresh-cut flowers in her ringlets of graying hair. It wouldn’t have seemed odd except for the fact that they were large pink mums. The same flower in a smaller size had been sewed onto the low neckline and high waistline of her flowing gown. There were four flounces on her skirt and the hem of each had been adorned with a row of fresh peonies. Julia had never seen anything like it, and by the expression on Brina’s face, neither had she.

  The spacious garden was no less lavish and spectacular than the hostess herself, with its array of decor. At the entrance to her back lawn were three white arches decorated with colorful shades of tulle, ribbons, and more flowers placed at the entrance. Guests had to walk under the arches to enter. Past where their hostess stood, Julia could see rows of vibrant flowers lining the stone pathway that led to tables and chairs that had been swathed with white linen. Not surprisingly, a ring of pink posies had been laid in the center of each table. Inside each ring stood a five-tiered silver tray filled with dainty confections and delicacies.

  Scattered in between tables were beautifully dressed ladies still wearing pale colors and summer blends of lightweight muslin, crepe, and silk. Their hats and bonnets were the height of fashion and lovely, with netting and organdy coverings. Gentlemen were splendidly clothed in dark coats and waistcoats as colorful as the flowers in Lady Hallbury’s garden.

  The muggy air was still. Gray skies didn’t dampen the enthusiastic hum of chatter or the melodious sounds coming from a violinist, a cellist, and a pianist.

  “There you are at last, my dear Lady Kitson,” the countess said as Julia and Brina approached. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it after all. Delighted to hear you are back in Town. September is the perfect time to be in London, though few agree with me on that. And after the heat earlier in the week, who can blame them. Though it was simply dreadful to hear that the duke wasn’t feeling well enough to make the journey.”

  “It’s good to be in London,” Julia responded when her hostess finally took a breath. “I’ll mention in my next letter to the duke that you asked about him. He’ll be pleased.”

  “Oh, yes, do. It never hurts to have one’s name mentioned to a duke.”

  She looked over at Brina. “Delighted to see you, too, Mrs. Feld. You’re looking lovely, as always. Perhaps you’ll play a score for us later in the afternoon. It’s wonderful to have a pianist, but someone who’s hired simply can’t play with the feeling of someone who plays only because it comes from her heart. Don’t you agree, Lady Kitson?”

  Julia smiled at Brina. “Yes, few can play as beautifully as Brina.”

  Lady Hallbury turned and motioned for a server to come over.

  “Mr. Garrett Stockton is back in London, too. I know it’s rather brazen of me having him here, but he adds a touch of mystique to a gathering, don’t you think? Viscount Rumbly has been giving him the evil eye and hasn’t let his daughter anywhere near the man.”

  Lady Hallbury gave them each a glass from the server’s tray. “Do enjoy yourselves,” she said and then walked away.

  “I always feel as if I’ve been in a windstorm after talking with her,” Brina said.

  “I think everyone does,” Julia agreed, thinking more of how she felt when she heard Lady Hallbury mention Mr. Stockton’s name. “Have you seen him yet?”

  “Yes. I saw him before the countess mentioned him.”

  Julia scanned the group of people over her champagne glass but couldn’t find him. It was impossible to see around some of the big urns filled with flowers, stuffed birds, and motionless butterflies. “What’s he wearing?”

  “A deep green coat with a fawn-colored waistcoat. He’s talking with Miss Lavinia Etchingham and Miss Myrtle Jackson. She is standing very close to him but she won’t be for long. Her mother keeps scowling at her. Myrtle is oblivious to her mother’s warnings to get away from the man.”

  Julia could understand Miss Jackson’s feelings. Mr. Stockton had made her feel as if she were an eager young miss wanting to feel her very first touch from a man. She didn’t want to admit it to Brina, but she was feeling more than a little apprehension and sheer anticipation at the thought of seeing him again. Julia hadn’t come to London looking to find a man to fill a void in her life, but something had happened between the two of them their first meeting. She sensed he felt it, too.

  He was different from all the gentlemen who’d let her know they’d be interested in courting her or having a secret encounter with her. But more importantly, she had felt differently about him almost from the first moment she saw him. Mr. Stockton was the first
man who had her contemplating the possibility of going against the duke’s stated rules of what she should and should not do.

  Julia liked how he’d made her feel so womanly again. How it made her feel to think about being alone with him. It intrigued her that he had the courage to give up the settled, envied life of a gentleman to become a voyager.

  It was madness to consider it, but it didn’t stop Julia from wondering what he would say if she told him she’d like to be with him. Alone. In an intimate way. But how would she even say it to him if she mustered the courage? Maybe she wouldn’t have to say anything. Maybe he would just know—by the way she looked at him that she wanted to be with him.

  Thinking about it was all she could do. She believed the duke when he told her he would take Chatwyn and raise him if she wanted to be with a man. And she knew he could. The laws gave him complete power over her and her son. She would only have Chatwyn with her until he went to Eton. That was still four or five years away, and she couldn’t give up her time with him until then.

  “Wait,” Brina said with a satisfied smile. “You don’t have to worry about Miss Jackson anymore. Her mother just walked over, took her by the arm and is leading her toward the arches. I assume they are heading home already.”

  “Is he watching her leave?”

  “No. Clearly he has no interest in her or he would. But Miss Etchingham will not have him all to herself. Miss Chesterfield just joined her and Mr. Stockton.”

  Julia blew out a soft laugh. “I’m not surprised all the lovely misses are lining up to spend a few minutes with him. I’m sure I would be, too, if I thought I had a chance to—”

  Julia’s voice trailed off. She’d caught sight of the sea adventurer from across the garden, and he saw her. It was as if a beam of sunshine had broken through the gray clouds. Everything in her vision seemed to sparkle. She felt as if he were pulling her toward him.

  She didn’t know how or why but was certain in her heart that every time they saw each other more than their eyes had connected. An eagerness to indulge in what she was feeling for him seemed to dig its way into her soul. She felt he had the same experience. There was something about him that triggered emotions inside her that were far too raw and intense to consider—especially at a garden party where he was surrounded by young belles who were innocent, younger, more beautiful and didn’t have Julia’s troubles.

  “Of course you have a chance with him,” Brina said, bursting into Julia’s thoughts. “Why would you even think such a thing? It’s all right for you to be cautious. You should be. It’s wise. You have to think of Chatwyn, but you can’t neglect yourself.”

  “I know you are right.” Julia turned away from Mr. Stockton. She didn’t want to watch him chatting and smiling with the two adoring young ladies. “Which is why I’m going to enjoy this glass of champagne and say hello to everyone who’s here.”

  “Right,” Brina agreed. “Let’s start with Viscount Rumbly. Lady Hallbury said he’d been giving Mr. Stockton the evil eye since he arrived. Maybe he’ll tell us something about Mr. Stockton we don’t know.”

  “If he does, it will only be gossip.”

  Brina smiled. “I know.”

  It was sometime later and after Julia had participated in several conversations about the hostess’s flower-trimmed dress, the possible reasons for Miss Camilla Wangle’s sudden marriage to Mr. Bradley Fowler, and the conflicting explanations about what exactly had set off a fire that burned down three buildings on the east end of Harold Street that Julia found herself standing alone.

  “What has captivated you about this table, Lady Kitson?” Mr. Stockton asked as he eased up beside her. “You’ve been staring at it and looking pensive for at least a full minute.”

  Chapter 8

  Julia looked at Mr. Stockton and instantly took note of the way his eyes narrowed just enough to give him a roguishly handsome appeal. It was ridiculous how fast the sight of him could make her heartbeat start racing. She wanted to smile and let him know she was happy to see him, but she didn’t dare show interest in him at such a public place.

  Instead she drew in a wavering breath and turned back to the table. “The food. I was just thinking how sad it is that no one is eating this deliciously prepared food while there are so many people who go hungry.”

  The silver serving tray was filled with miniature fruit tarts, glazed tea cakes, lemon confections, toast points covered in sugary butter, and other tiny delicacies. None of it had been touched. It was still as beautifully arranged as it had been when Julia entered the garden.

  “It’s not just this table,” he answered. “I haven’t seen anyone eat a bite.”

  She looked at the trays on the other tables. They all appeared untouched, too. “They probably haven’t. It’s life in Society.”

  “I’ve heard men say they were thirsty when sitting down to have a drink at their clubs, but they don’t know what thirst is. Nor do they know what true hunger is. If they did, they wouldn’t let one morsel of this food go to waste.”

  Turning toward him again, she looked into his eyes. “I don’t know why, Mr. Stockton, but as impossible as it seems, it sounds as if you are talking from experience.”

  “Me? Real thirst? Hunger? No. Not even the times when I was on a ship adrift at sea for weeks on end. We rationed our food and fresh water and made it last. I won’t say we had all we wanted, but we had enough.”

  “After traveling the world, I’m sure you’ve seen people who are truly in need of food and clean water, haven’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, but Julia could tell by the way his brows pinched that he was sensitive about the subject. Sadness swept over Julia. All her life she’d been sheltered from most of life’s harsh realities. She thought of Brina and how she wanted to help the unfortunate people who visited the Sisters of Pilwillow Crossings. Julia renewed her commitment to help Brina in any way she could.

  “It’s not an easy subject to talk about,” he answered diplomatically. “Certainly not with a lady and at such a grand affair.”

  “Ah, yes.” She quirked her head and gave him a puzzled expression. “I’m afraid most gentlemen think ladies should be shielded from such things as talk of the poor or downtrodden. They consider us weak, fragile, and in need of their protection—even from ourselves. A lady’s independence isn’t something they recognize. You don’t feel that way, do you, Mr. Stockton?”

  “I’ve never been one to conform to what was expected of me.” He smiled. “However, I would shield you from anything I thought might harm you, Lady Kitson, and I will talk with you about anything you want to discuss. Including this food. I take it you are one of the many here who haven’t eaten anything.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Neither have I.” He started removing his gloves. “There’s no reason this food shouldn’t be enjoyed. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes.”

  He stuffed his gloves in one of his pockets, picked up a serving fork, and placed five of the dainty pastries on a plate and extended it to her.

  “Oh, no, I don’t usually—” She stopped. He was challenging her, and she wasn’t going to be outdone by him. Besides, this situation was of her own making, as was usually the case. She glanced about the gathering and didn’t see anyone paying them particular notice. “Very well,” she said, pulling on the fingers of her wrist-high glove. “You’ve made your point. Perhaps if others see us eating they will, too.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Julia took the plate from him and placed a small pastry with what appeared to be a dot of apricot preserves on top of it into her mouth. It was flaky, sweet, and delicious. The next looked to be a small square of toast dusted with cinnamon and topped with a droplet of honey. It was delicious, too.

  She watched Mr. Stockton enjoy one of the small tarts. He ate with the relish of a man who enjoyed food.

  “The rumors about Lady Hallbury’s cook being the best might be true,” he said, adding more pastries to their plates. br />
  “I agree,” she said, and watched him eat another confection. As she watched him, she couldn’t stop the sudden desire to feel his lips on hers and his hands touching her skin.

  His gaze met hers again and held. “I like the way you are looking at me, Lady Kitson.”

  Curls of pleasure tumbled inside her. Julia liked the way he held his gaze on her, too. He looked comfortable, contented to be by her side. She enjoyed thinking about being alone with him, kissing him, but then, loud laughter sounded behind her. She couldn’t forget where she was so she moved farther down the table. Mr. Stockton followed her. Her heartbeat fluttered. Like most of the ladies at the party, she was flattered by the attention he was showing her, but she had to be careful.

  “You can’t run away from me, Lady Kitson. I intend to pursue you.”

  His words fell upon her as softly as a cherishing caress, but she had to give him a quick, “No. I’m afraid I’m not available.”

  “Why?”

  Julia looked around the small gathering and cleared her throat. If they were alone she might have been tempted to tell him the reason so it was probably best they weren’t. Brina was nearby, watching her and keeping Miss Etchingham busy. It seemed safe to continue her conversation with Mr. Stockton for now, but she changed the subject by saying, “I was just wondering—is it true that you once commandeered a shipment of grain from a band of pirates and gave it to some villagers up north because their farmland was suffering from a blight?”

  “I didn’t know that story had been told.”

  “Then it’s true.”

  “Somewhat true,” he said.

  A whisper of a laugh passed Julia’s lips. “How can it be somewhat true, Mr. Stockton? Either you did it or you didn’t.”

  His gaze swept softly down her face sending a shudder of delight racing through her. “I once took some grain knowing it wasn’t mine to take or to give away. We came upon a ship listing at sea. The few men onboard were dead. From a fever, we assumed. We found no survivors. We had space, so we loaded their cargo onto our ship and sailed away.”