Page 7 of Gone With the Rogue
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. He liked the way he felt when she looked at him. It teased him with the possibility they would have another opportunity to explore the desires that had sparked between them when they were in the tree.
Lady Kitson then looked straight ahead, and so did he. They were nearing the area in the park where the family with the three children was playing. Their high-pitched voices rent the air with youthful chatter and laughter. Not too far away from them was a man driving a wagon that looked to be loaded with baskets filled with vegetables. Garrett took it all in. Enjoying the sounds of life was always important to him when he returned to England. Through the greenery of the trees in the distance he could see the western sky melting into calming shades of orange, pink, and dark blue. The sky had grown darker while they walked, but the air stayed heavy with heat.
In the distance, he heard even more shouts from other children playing and, even farther away, the sounds of a dog barking and carriage wheels rolling over the uneven terrain of St. James. He always found the more common sounds of life cheering after so many days on a ship where all he heard was the flapping of sails in strong wind, riggings banging against the mast, and masculine voices.
“What are some of the countries you’ve seen, Mr. Stockton?” Lady Kitson asked when silence between them stretched.
“Turkey, India, the Americas. Too many to mention.”
“According to the maps I’ve seen, all of them look to be very far away.”
Garrett remembered the seemingly endless days and nights he’d spent at sea before land would appear as if it were rising out of the waters. “They are.”
“And what cargos do your ships carry?”
“Silks for clothing, porcelains for tables, and jade for jewelry. Teas, and spices. Horses from Arabia. The East India Shipping Company can’t ship everything the English, the Europeans, and the Americans are hungry for. Smaller companies like mine are needed to help them.”
“I suppose I should be more thankful there are those who make the journeys.” Lady Kitson looked over at him with curiosity gleaming her eyes and curving the corners of her beautifully shaped lips. “You must enjoy your life as a sojourner, Mr. Stockton.”
Garrett chuckled under his breath.Sojournerwas the ton’s favorite word for him. That gave the impression he was simply a traveler and hadn’t participated in the work of building his shipping company. Nothing could be further from the truth.
On his last voyage, Garrett had realized the reason he never stayed in London very long was that he didn’t have a home. He intended to change that. He was going to purchase a house in London. Not just any house, but the one where he had grown up. The one that his father had said could never be theirs. Garrett wantedthathouse. And he didn’t care what it cost him to get it.
“It’s rumored your ships have brought secret artifacts into the country for the Prince to display in his lavish homes.”
Lady’s Kitson’s interest in him seemed genuine, but he gave her a wry grin of doubt. “If it was a secret, it obviously wasn’t a well-guarded one.”
“So, then it’s true,” she said with a breath of astonishment. “You don’t deny that you have sailed for the Prince.”
Garrett sensed disapproval by her tone, but he wasn’t about to make apologies. He couldn’t deny her accusation. His company had brought shipments of the Prince’s plunders to England. Garrett had never met the Regent and had no idea what he did with his bounty. Garrett always worked through an emissary.
He kept a steady gaze on her face as they walked. The side of his mouth twitched with a slight smile. “Do I hear a note of scorn in your voice, my lady?”
Their exchange of looks lasted long enough for him to believe her attraction to him was real, no matter that it was clear she didn’t support some of the things he’d done.
She answered with a feminine shrug, and then, as if to give herself time to collect her thoughts, she scanned the horizon and then to her right and left again. He wondered what made her so skittish concerning what the duke thought about her.
“It’s well-known how carelessly and lavishly the King’s son spends on his homes, for trinkets, gambling debts, and probably other things that only a few are privy to,” Lady Kitson said.
Most everyone knew the Prince had a flamboyant lifestyle. He’d never bothered to hide it. He had an insatiable appetite for many things; food, wine, women,and gambling. He also had a keenness for beautiful and rare paintings and extraordinary art objects. Garrett wouldn’t call the artifacts he brought into England trinkets. The King’s son appreciated his share of oddities, for sure, but he also coveted other countries’ priceless treasures.
The Prince was often vilified in articles and illustrations for his proclivities and his expenditures for furniture, renowned paintings, delicate china tureens, plates, and vases. And more porcelain than even a prince’s house could hold. That was just the start of the plunder he had garnered for his extravagant collections. However, Garrett wasn’t one to judge the way someone else lived his life.
“I have no firsthand knowledge of the Regent’s gambling, but one thing is sure, Lady Kitson: the Prince will not take any of the treasures he’s bought or otherwise collected to the grave with him when he dies. So, in the end, England will be the bountiful beneficiary of a great number of priceless artifacts one day.”
“You know you are saying the end justifies his questionable acts, don’t you? I probably can’t even imagine half the things you have done.”
She stopped walking, looked at him, and laughed softly. The merriment in her eyes and the whispery sound echoing from her tempting lips made Garrett’s heartbeat trip. She was heavenly tempting when she looked at him like that. His desire to catch her up in his embrace and kiss her was strong but also impossible. He probably could have held her spellbound with tales of storms so fierce he wasn’t sure he’d live to take another breath, but he didn’t want to talk about himself or the Prince’s lifestyle. He wanted to know more about her—a widow confident enough to start a charitable school for girls, brave enough to climb a tree, and kindhearted enough to save a butterfly.
“You were telling me about your son earlier.”
“I delight in talking about Chatwyn, but don’t think I don’t know you asking about him is your way of changing the subject.”
He affirmed her statement with a nod. “I would never expect I could fool you about anything, Lady Kitson, and I’m sure having a four-year-old son in the house would be just as adventuresome as sailing the seas.”
“You are probably right about that. Chatwyn surprises me every day. He’s old enough we can now have conversations—on simple subjects, of course, like birds and butterflies. But only for a short time. He doesn’t like to tarry with anything. Especially with his dinner.”
Garrett noticed the way her eyes brightened and her features relaxed contentedly when she talked about her son. “I don’t know much about children, but I would think most boys are that way.”
