sir.”
Aye, aye, sir, as if responding to his superior’s order, not as if he were about to perform a duty out of pleasure.
Thankful for the layers of separation her glove and his sleeve provided, Julia rested her hand as lightly as possible atop his arm. At least, when side-by-side, she did not have to try so hard to avoid his gaze.
They followed Sir Drake and Aunt Augusta, who whispered to her son all the way to the dining room. Halfway down the stairs, Drake glanced over his shoulder and gave Julia a smile that sent a cold chill down her spine. Though handsome, his slightly hooked nose and thick, dark brows that hooded his eyes gave him an air of menace.
William cleared his throat. “Are you finding Portsmouth to your liking, Miss Witherington?”
“Inasmuch as it is not Jamaica, I find that there are enough diversions to keep me entertained. And, of course, Susan Yates is nearby.” She glanced up at him and caught the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“I called on Mrs. Yates this afternoon. She asked me to pass along a message to you.” His upturned lips now twitched.
“Yes?”
His eyes flickered toward the ceiling before he spoke. “She asked me to convey her disappointment that you will not be at Lady Fairfax’s party this evening, and to tell you she will be thinking of an apt punishment for abandoning her in such a manner.”
Julia did something she’d been certain she could not do in William Ransome’s presence: she laughed. “I fear I shall be paying that punishment for some time to come. Thank you for serving as messenger.”
He paused two steps from the bottom and turned to look at her. Julia’s heart nearly stopped—her breathing did.
“Miss Witherington, I—”
“Come, you two, no dawdling.” Augusta Pembroke’s shrill voice severed the tension between Julia and William.
He pressed his lips into a thin line and led Julia into the dining room.
Julia dropped her hand from William’s arm and walked to her regular seat at her father’s right hand. Sir Drake held the chair for her, his eyes glittering like onyx. Though she dreaded conversation with William, she discovered she would much rather sit beside him—whom she knew and resented—than her cousin, whose very presence made her feel like she was covered with sand fleas.
The admiral prayed, asking God’s blessing on the food, the guests present, and the Royal Navy. “Eat hearty, Ransome. You won’t find a better cook than our Mrs. Stooksbury. Whatever happened with your man—Doughty, wasn’t it?”
“Dawling. Still with me, sir.”
“Have his skills improved since last I visited?”
“No, sir, though he does try hard.” William loaded his plate with roasted vegetables.
“Perhaps this furlough will give you a chance to find a new steward. I cannot have one of my very best wasting away for want of proper care.
Julia cringed inwardly. One of my very best indeed. She knew what her father meant. The man who has replaced my son in my affections. Her appetite vanished, and she studied her father from the corner of her eye. How could he carry on like this with William when he knew full well of William’s treatment of her last time they were all together?
“Miss Witherington?”
At her elbow, Sir Drake offered the platter of mackerel. She nodded, and he served a small portion for her.
“I hope you have settled in well and are finding England to your liking, cousin.” He served sweetbread and vegetables onto her plate without a glance at her.
“It is much colder here than what I am accustomed to, Sir Drake.”
“Cold?” His condescension slipped into a derisive chuckle. “Just a few days of rain to break the heat of the summer. Nothing to regard.”
“In Jamaica—”
“Once you have been in England for a while,” Drake spoke over her as if she hadn’t said anything, “you will come to appreciate the variety of weather. Besides, we are quite temperate down here in the south. Up in
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