Page 13 of Gone With the Rogue
“I’ve heard all those stories, too,” Julia interrupted her friend, and then huffed out a breath as she noticed Mrs. Desford waiting just outside the doorway for an answer about whether to turn the man away or to bring him into the drawing room.
“Mr. Stockton couldn’t have done all that was gossiped about him. That would be impossible. But since you are eager to meet him, I will do you the favor and invite him to join us.”
Julia looked over at Mrs. Desford and nodded.
“That’s all I asked. Why did it take you so long to agree?”
“Because I wanted to put my poor judgment of saying yes to this mistake squarely on your shoulders. I can’t let him stay long. He’ll have his say—whatever that is—and then leave.”
The sound of masculine boots walking across a wooded floor sounded down the corridor. Curls of expectancy danced in Julia’s stomach.
“Just remember,” Brina said. “He is interested enough in you to seek you out. No matter the reason.”
Brina’s words sent ripples of excitement flowing through Julia again. She wanted it to be so yet feared the thought of it, too. The duke had never minced words with her. She could continue to be a part of her son’s life only if she continued to be his son’s widow—a proper widow who stayed true to Kitson’s memory. Right now her future was dependent on finding the information on the Eubury-Broadwell Gaming Company. She couldn’t allow a handsome man to make her lose her focus on that.
“I hope I don’t regret doing this,” she added, more to herself than to Brina.
A moment or two later, Mr. Stockton rounded the corner and sauntered into the drawing room as comfortably as if he’d been a welcomed guest there many times. Julia savored the sight of him as he strode across the room. A warmth of fluttering excitement swirled in her chest. If possible, he seemed taller, more imposing, and more magnificent than he had yesterday. The fawn-colored coat he wore matched his golden-brown eyes and fit perfectly across his shoulders. His neckcloth wasn’t fancy with lace or tied into an elaborate bow or intricate knot. His one bit of frippery was the short leather tassels that hung on the sides of his boots near the knee.
He stopped near her and bowed. “Lady Kitson, pardon me for intruding on your afternoon and your guest.”
“You’re not,” she said honestly, embracing how wonderful it felt just to see him again. Brina was right. The deed and its damage were done. He was already at her door. Right now she could enjoy talking to him. Later she could worry about the possible consequences if the duke heard about this visit and the job she had yet to accomplish. “I’d like to introduce my friend, Mrs. Brina Feld. Brina, Mr. Garrett Stockton.”
The two greeted each other politely and, no surprise to Julia, Brina didn’t offer him her hand. Since the death of her husband, she was particular about whom she allowed near her. Julia knew Brina definitely wanted to examine Mr. Stockton closely, but from afar.
He turned his attention back to Julia. “I won’t take up much of your time, Lady Kitson. You are lookingwell. It doesn’t appear you’ve had any ill effects from the heat of the past few days.”
Julia’s hand automatically lifted to rub the back of her neck, where Mr. Stockton’s fingers had touched her skin so lightly as he held the knife and cut the threads of her collar. “None at all, Mr. Stockton.” She let her arm drop to her side. “As you can see, I’m quite well.”
“I’m pleased to know that. I wanted to let you know I retrieved your butterfly net from the tree in the park.”
Surprised, she looked at his empty hands. “You mean you went back to the tree and—”
He started nodding before she finished, so her voice trailed off.
Keeping his voice low, he said, “From our brief encounter, I had no doubt you are quite fearless and filled with a considerable amount of will. I thought you might go back and try to get the net out of the tree yourself. I wanted to save you the trouble and do it for you.”
Julia struggled to fight the very real attraction that was developing between them. Mr. Stockton seemed to know just what to say to make her feel confident in herself, and she desperately needed that right now. It pleased her that he considered her strong and capable and filled with determination. And there was a time she would have gone back for the net. But that was before the duke had used her son to take control of her life. She had to remember that even now he could have recovered sufficiently to be on his way to join them in London.
She must keep her thoughts, her focus, her very being on finding the incriminating documents on the Eubury-Broadwell Company. Then, once she was free of the duke and his plans for her life, she would beable to enjoy and pursue the feelings Mr. Stockton stirred up in her. Her heart sank a little. If he was still in London and hadn’t returned to the sea.
“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 wassorry 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?”
