The MacGalloways: Books #1-3

Chapter 26

26

A fter enjoying a breakfast at the boarding house, Julia opened the door to Charity’s smiling face. “As you asked, I’ve brought your mail. Giles left it on the corner of Mr. Smallwood’s writing table just like you said he’d do.”

Julia took the correspondence and stood aside while her friend entered. “You’re such a dear, thank you.”

“Since you’re supposed to be on your journey up north, I dunna ken why you’re bothering with it.”

“I don’t want to miss a letter from Willaby.” Of course that was true, but Julia wasn’t about to tell Her Ladyship how badly she was being swindled by Silas Skinner and wanted to ensure none of the lout’s correspondence sat where His Grace might intercept it. She sifted through the missives. “And here is one from the dear old butler.”

Charity slid onto the settee with a whoosh of ivory muslin beneath a skirt of lace. “Do you miss the manor house?”

Sliding her finger under the wax seal, Julia reflected for a moment. It hadn’t been all that long ago when Huntly Manor was the center of her world—the one property owned by her father that she’d fiercely guarded, determined to keep it from the debt collectors. Well, she was still determined to keep it from the likes of Mr. Skinner but oddly, the preservation of the seat of the Earl of Brixham no longer preoccupied her thoughts. “I suppose not as much now as I did when I first arrived at Newhailes.”

The lass chuckled. “You did make a rather odd little steward.”

“Mind you I am still an odd little steward who is supposed to be on his way up to Scotland.”

“Aye, but you’re delayed. Travelers are delayed all the time for anything from inclement weather to a broken axle on their carriage.” Charity threw her head back and laughed. “Or a carriage infested with mice.”

“There was only one mouse,” Julia said as she shook open Willaby’s letter.

“Perhaps, but you proved your manhood to me when you caught the wee vermin.”

“Indeed, and I’ll have your know your brother told me—or Mr. Smallwood—not to encourage your affections.”

The lass toyed with the pearl pendant on her necklace. “Did he now? And here I thought a match with my brother’s steward would solve everything.”

Julia read the salutation. “Everything?”

“Well, I might be taller than you, but as a man you’re affable and easy to talk to. Moreover, if I married Mr. Smallwood I would have been able to live at Newhailes or Stack Castle. I love both, of course and cannot imagine living anywhere else.”

“When you find the right husband, you will become the lady of a vast estate and—” Julia abruptly stopped as she read:

The earl has taken a turn for the worse, I’m afraid. He has asked for you and I agree it might be helpful if you were to arrange a time to visit within a month or so. Whenever His Grace can see fit to grant you a bit of time of course…

“Is all well?” Charity asked, rising and stepping beside Julia’s elbow. “You’ve turned as white as bed linens.”

Julia tilted the letter so Her Ladyship could see the contents. “My father...”

“Oh dear, and you only have a few days left.” The lass took the missive and paced. “Look at this, Willaby suggests a month right here.”

“Yes, but Papa wasn’t exactly well when I left to take the position as your brother’s steward. In fact, it was because of my father’s health that I was faced with no choice but to do so.”

Her Ladyship turned as she refolded the letter. “Goodness, I’m certain you must be worried something awful.”

“Of course I am. And I’m supposed to be on my way up to Scotland which?—”

“—means you won’t have received this letter until your return, which will not be for six weeks or more.”

Julia clapped her hands to her head and huffed. “True, but I have received it.”

Charity shrugged. “I suppose there’s that.”

Biting down on her thumbnail, Julia looked to the valise she’d packed with Mr. Smallwood’s effects in preparation for his journey. “I ought to apprise Martin of this and leave in the morning.”

“But your time in London is nearly at its end. Surely by the tenor of Willaby’s note, you can wait a few more days.” Charity wrapped her arm around Julia’s shoulders and gave a thoughtful squeeze. “Then you can head for Huntly Manor as Julia St. Vincent planned and once you’ve been there a sennight or so, write to Marty as Mr. Smallwood and tell him you received word of the Earl’s ill health and that His Lordship requested an audience with his old steward.”

Julia leaned into her dear friend, wanting desperately to agree with her. “I’m not sure His Grace would understand the audience part. After all, the earl ought to be more interested in seeing his daughter than his steward.”

“But isna Mr. Smallwood a relation?”

“A second cousin on his wife’s side. Mind you, it would have been very convoluted if Jules had been a blood relative, especially since there is no heir in line to succeed.”

“Quite.” Charity led Julia to the settee and urged her to sit. “Nonetheless, I truly think you should adhere to my advice. Return to Brixham as you planned, then Jules can write and make his excuses.”

“But what about the benefit in Wick?”

“Family is more important than a benefit, and no one kens that better than Marty. Heaven’s stars, he was one of the most rakish men in London before Papa passed, but when the family needed him, he stepped in without a word of complaint and took up the reins.” Charity squeezed Julia’s hands and offered a warm smile. “Do what you must. My brother will forgive you. He thinks Jules Smallwood is astute and brilliant, and he believes Julia St. Vincent is Aphrodite incarnate.”

Julia scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. “You truly believe I ought to stay until the end of the fortnight?”

Charity moved her fingers to Julia’s her upper arms, giving a pointed stare. “What would your father say if he were in my place?”

Gulping, Julia tapped praying fingers to her lips. What would Papa say if he were himself again? If he were the man he was when Mama was still alive? It had been such a long time since she had felt his love. But at one time her father would have wanted nothing more than his daughter’s happiness. And he would have been very proud to know Julia was being courted by a duke.

“Very well.” She held up a finger to make a point. “I will remain here for the three days as planned, and that is only because Willaby suggested I return sometime within a month.”

A knock sounded at the door. “I beg your pardon, m’lady,” said the maid, popping her head inside. “The Duke of Dunscaby has come to call.”

“Must we keep the curtain closed?” Asked Charity, toying with the tassel that usually tied back the velvet drape presently covering the carriage window. “The day is far too beautiful to ride inside this dreary coach without enjoying the scenery.”

Martin gave his sister a dour frown, though he doubted she’d see his expression given the dim light. “That would spoil my surprise, would it not?” He hadn’t yet told Lady Julia about his plans to build a cotton empire for his brothers and the first sailing of Gibb’s ship was an excellent opportunity to do so. The summons he’d received from his brother was brimming with excitement, so much so, Martin, himself wanted to throw back the curtain and look to the Thames for his first glimpse at The Prosperity’s unfurled sails.

“Shall we venture to guess?” asked Lady Julia. “I’m thinking a jaunt across the river to Southwark. Just yesterday I overheard some ladies talk about an astounding show of acrobatics with a man who claims to be the strongest in all of Britain.”

“I’m surprised they’re not claiming Christendom,” Martin mumbled.

“So, is it Southwark?” asked Charity.

He glanced down to Julia’s hand flush against the seat between them. Unable to help himself, he shifted, placed his hand atop hers, and crossed his legs. Giving the lady a wry wink, he pretended as if the touch had been unintentional—for Charity’s benefit, of course, since Her Ladyship was acting as Julia’s escort. “Nay, we’re not heading to Southwark.”

“Hyde Park?” asked his sister. “After all, you’re wearing your kilt so you must not be taking us to see the queen.”

“No, no. The park is far too mundane for secrets. Everyone goes there.” Julia’s little finger brushed his outer thigh, the touch very light, yet extremely arousing. To add fuel to the fire, she returned his wink. “I’ll wager His Grace has something far more amusing in store for us.”

Good God, if only they didn’t need a bloody chaperone, he’d pull the vixen onto his lap this instant. But they were traveling in an enclosed coach and time and time again he’d vowed not to take a chance and ruin her reputation.

“Och, I ken,” said Charity, sitting across the carriage and tapping the tips of her fingers together as if she were scheming. “You’re taking us to a boxing match. I’ve been dying to see one ever since Mr. Smallwood told me you took him to Jackson’s Saloon for a wee lesson with the champion himself. Did you ken now he’s practicing with a dumbbell every morn?”

Lady Julia coughed and patted her chest. “I do suppose Jules could use some toughening up.”

“I could not agree more,” said Martin. “When the man came to Newhailes he was far too sheltered—a veritable steward, mind you, but I’ve never met anyone so engrossed in his work. Not even Giles.”

Charity opened her fan and giggled behind it. “A man more dedicated than Giles? Unfathomable.”

Martin eyed his sister. “It seems you chat with the chap a great deal. I hope you’re not being an annoyance to Mr. Smallwood.”

“How can I annoy him when he’s not even in London?”

Julia coughed again.

“Are you feeling ill?” Martin asked.

“I’ve never been better.” Her Ladyship fanned her face, then sniffed. “We aren’t nearing the Pool of London are we? I smell fish.”

Martin thumbed the curtain. “We…might be.”

“Gibb’s ship!” Charity blurted scooting to the edge of the bench and looking out. “He said he’d be sailing soon. Is today his maiden voyage?”

Leave it to his sister to spoil the surprise.

“Perhaps I am feeling a tad under the weather,” Julia said as she sank against the seat just when the carriage rolled to a stop.

“Hogwash,” Charity said without a lick of concern. “You just said you’ve never felt better and, if you ask me, it is a beautiful day and curmudgeons never go out when the weather is fine.”

“Curmudgeons?” Martin asked, looking between the two.

“Och, dunna mind me.” Charity took the footman’s hand as he opened the door. “We all ken Julia to be the antithesis of a curmudgeon. Come, m’lady, we cannot miss The Prosperity’s gallant voyage out to the Channel.”

Martin caught Julia by the elbow before she disembarked. “Are you truly unwell?”

Before answering, she popped her head out the door and panned her gaze across the bustling pier. “Forgive me, I coughed a few times but the tickle is gone now.”

“Thank heavens.” The new venture was coming together and it astounded him how excited he’d become. Most men of his ilk would never lower themselves enough to dabble in trade, but the idea of establishing a dynasty with his brothers truly excited him. “My closest brother, Lord Gibb, has acquired a new ship for a textile operation Mr. Smallwood and I have established for the benefit of my brothers and the MacGalloway name.” He grazed his teeth over his lip. For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, he desperately wanted Julia to see the ship. He wanted her approval. He wanted her to see he wasn’t just a duke who owned vast estates, but he was working to the lay the foundations for his family and the future of the MacGalloway clan.

“How enterprising of you,” she said, taking the footman’s hand and disembarking.

Once Martin stepped onto the footpath, Charity grasped one of his elbows while he offered Julia the other. “Why did you not bring Mama and the lasses?” asked his sister.

“In truth, this is only a test run. Gibb is taking her out—assessing his new crew and seeing what the ship will do when she reaches the open waters.” Martin led the ladies toward the river’s edge. “He’s merely sailing out to the Channel to make a few maneuvers then will return to the Pool for any necessary repairs. If all goes well, The Prosperity will sail for America in a week—her true maiden voyage.”

“Oh look, are those her sails I see?” asked Charity.

Martin hastened his pace a bit, his heart taking to flight. Goodness, he was proud of his brother and all that had come together to make this dream a reality. “Aye. Look there, by the way she’s listing to and fro, the ship has weighed anchor.”

“How marvelous!” Julia said, her feet shuffling with his fast pace, her face alight with as much excitement as he felt. “Look there, she has fifteen including the fore and aft. Standard barques have thirteen sails, but this one is a cut above, is she not?”

Martin ought to have known a lass who hailed from a wee seaside village in the south of England would know her ships and rigging. But at the moment, his little brother was standing at the helm of his very own ship, looking as noble and dignified as any captain Martin had ever seen, as if Lord Gibb MacGalloway was born to command the waters. He raised his hand to bid his brother farewell. “Aye, The Prosperity is a cut above.”

“I’m so proud of him.” Charity leaned on the rail and craned her neck while the barque began to pick up speed. “And of you, Marty. Papa would have been astounded with all you are doing for our brothers.”

Julia turned her face up and smiled at him, her eyes shining as if he were the only person on the pier whom she cared to see. “I agree. Your dedication to your family is not only admirable, it is an example for all.”

“I dunna believe the firstborn should be the only one who benefits from a?—”

“Did ye ’onestly believe you could thwart me?” demanded a gaunt character, grabbing Her Ladyship by the wrist. “I warned ye not to cross me.”

“Mr. Skinner!” Before Martin could step in, Julia wrenched her arm away, her face suddenly apple red. “I-I have not thwarted you in the slightest. I-I will be departing London three days hence and on top of everything else, I have given you every spare farthing to my name.”

“What the devil is the meaning of this?” Martin stepped between them, thrusting out his chest as he wondered, what did she mean “everything else”? “You, sir, must show proper courtesy when speaking to a lady.”

“Oh, aye? She might be the daughter of a fallen, ruined earl, but she ’as been lyin’ to ye for months.” The vile creature thrust a gnarled finger at the lass. “And now she’s playing the ’igh and mighty lady, putting on airs in ’opes of trappin’ a duke in an unlikely marriage.”

Julia thrust her fists at her side. “I am not trying to trap him!”

Trap?

A stone the size of a cannonball lodged in Martin’s chest. He knew of this Mr. Skinner and the only reason any member of the ton ever dealt with him was if they were in such financial difficulties they had nowhere else to turn. But was there truth in what the moneylender had said?

Julia is trying to trap me?

The cannonball burst into flames throughout his chest as Martin shoved the cur in the shoulder. “I suggest you remove your person from my sight before I lodge my boot up your backside.”

Skinner didn’t budge. “Ye still don’t know, do ye?”

“What are you blathering about?” Martin demanded, sauntering forward and towering over the scoundrel.

Julia pushed herself between them. “Please don’t.”

Martin scarcely blinked as his body went numb. “Why would you plead with the likes of him?” he asked, but neither of them glanced his way.

“I said I would ruin ye if ye dared cross me.” Mr. Skinner sneered as his snake-like eyes finally shifted to Martin. “Ye are damned fool if you ’aven’t realized by now that this wench is not only Lady Julia St. Vincent, she is your bloody steward!”

“You despicable bastard!” Julia fumed, her eyes filling with tears.

“She’s right!” Charity grasped Her Ladyship by the elbow and pulled her toward the carriage. “There is not a kinder, more giving lass in all of Christendom, and you see fit to ruin her in the eyes of polite society?”

Skinner sauntered after them. “She owes me.”

“Her father owes you,” Charity countered.

Martin grabbed the cur by the collar and yanked him back. “I’ve never darkened the halls of your miserable gambling hell because you take pride in ruining any gentleman with a title.” He raised his fist while Skinner recoiled. “If you ever approach me again or if you ever dare to insult a lady whether it be in private or in public, I will see to it you will rue your actions.”

Gnashing his teeth, Martin shoved the blackguard to the cobbled footpath. “Scurry back to the gutter where you belong!”

His blood pulsed with hellfire as he watched the maggot hasten to his feet and dart across the busy road. Only after Skinner disappeared into the crowd, did the fire in Martin’s blood turn to ice. People bustled around him on the busy pier, but he stood rooted to the spot while his breath arrested in his chest.

Dear God, I’ve been a damned, blind fool.

“I’ll clean out my rooms and be gone before dark,” said Lady Julia, or whoever the hell the imposter actually was.

“Nay. You canna go now!” Charity insisted.

The pier began to spin Martin’s mind rifled through the past few weeks. Damnation, he’d been deceived and blinded by a charlatan.

And then I played directly into her trap like an imbecile.

Clenching his teeth, he grasped his sister’s elbow. “You and I are going home.” Before he climbed into the carriage, he leered at the traitor. “And you, Smallwood , I hope to never set eyes upon you again.”