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.
“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.”
“Did you try to find out who the shipment rightfully belonged to?”
“No. I could have but I didn’t look for the manifest. Once I made the decision to take the grain, it really didn’t matter at that point who it once belonged to. I considered it salvage.”
“I suppose your actions saved a lot of lives.”
“For a time, anyway. There will always be people among us who are in desperate need, Lady Kitson.” He looked down at his empty plate before his eyes met hers in earnest. “We can’t help them all. Sometimes we can’t help any of them—if they won’t let us.”
Julia knew he was talking about her. There was no doubt he was intuitive. He knew she was in some kind of trouble and not willing to share it with him. It was clear he didn’t understand her reluctance and he didn’t like it. Her fear was that the risk was so great.
“How is Chatwyn managing with his new tutor?” he asked when he realized she wasn’t going to respond to his attempt to wrangle answers from her.
“Not well,” she answered truthfully, pleased he’d asked about her son. Julia lowered her head and sighed. “The first day was so horrible I can’t bear to think about it and the second no better. Chatwyn cried hysterically most of the day and no amount of reprimands from Mr. Pratt or soothing from me helped him. I tried to explain to Mr. Pratt he’s simply too young and not ready for traditional schooling.”
Mr. Stockton’s eyes narrowed into a frown. “He didn’t try to discipline Chatwyn, did he? He didn’t put his hands on him?”
“No. I would never have allowed that. He threatened to tie him to the chair if he got up again so I moved to the small chair and held Chatwyn. You’ve met my son. He is a rambunctious little boy. It’s so difficult to keep him still. He’s not patient and neither is Mr. Pratt.”
“You didn’t leave the man alone with him today, did you?”
“Of course not. I met Mr. Pratt at the door this morning and told him Chatwyn was ill. There will be no instructions on Sunday but he said he’d return on Monday to resume lessons whether or not Chatwyn was better. I’ve written to the duke to ask him to dismiss the man. I explained how stern, overbearing, and completely unsuitable he is for such a young child.”
“Do you think the duke will agree?”
“I have little hope he will ever listen to me. He considers himself Chatwyn’s guardian and that he knows what’s best for him. For the most part I stay quiet because I’ve been threatened with never seeing Chatwyn again if I don’t.”
Mr. Stockton took in every word she said and nodded.
“The only thing the duke ever agreed to that I wanted to do was the girls’ school. I know he only allowed me use of my inheritance for that because it made him look benevolent to do so. With Brina and Adeline already invested, he knew he’d look stingy withholding money that is rightfully mine for such a worthy cause. Appearance is most important to him. He glories in how everyone praises him for the good man he is.” After she was finished, Julia realized she hadn’t kept her disdain for the duke out of her tone.
Mr. Stockton seemed to study on that for a moment, and then asked, “Have you resided in the Duke of Sprogsville’s home since your husband’s passing?”
Julia stilled as she remembered the night she told the duke she wanted to move into a home of her own with her son. Chatwyn was only a few months old. She didn’t think it would be a problem. The duke had two older sons and a daughter with seven children between them. They all had their own houses. But it wasn’t to be so for her. She was his son’s widow. The duke had told her she was free to leave his household, and she could do it with his blessing, but she wouldn’t be taking Chatwyn with her. He reminded her he knew every judge in Chancery Court. She couldn’t fight him. So she had stayed.
Most widows lived alone, where they were free to go and come as they wished, to entertain whomever they wished at whatever time they wished. She wasn’t allowed to be like most widows. She had to be the kind the duke wanted or face the consequences of his threats.
“Yes. I’ve lived in his house since the day I married his son. I know it’s difficult to understand for someone who is free to make his own choices in life. Ladies don’t have that luxury. You know the rules, Mr. Stockton. Once I married, everything I owned became my husband’s. And once he died, his father was given control of it and of me and guardianship of my son. Society deems women too delicate to manage their own affairs. When you are not allowed access to your own money, it leaves you few choices and even fewer freedoms.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand the complexity of your life. Something tells me you’d like to be free of the duke.”
“Desperately,” she whispered as she looked from Mr. Stockton’s strongly built chest and arms to his powerful-looking legs. She felt a leap in her breath. Brina was right. She needed help and she had to trust someone. He could move the duke’s desk for her. The documents she needed could be hidden in the floor under it and she didn’t need to leave one stone unturned. Mr. Stockton could reach the taller shelves with ease and help her with the larger books, so why was she hesitating?
Julia’s throat tightened at the real possibility of her thoughts. How could she get him in the house without anyone knowing? She had no idea but now that the idea of help from him was born, nothing kept the confession from tumbling from her lips. “I’m reluctant to admit it for several reasons, but I do need your help again, Mr. Stockton.”
Focusing his gaze intently on hers, he leaned in toward her and asked, “What do you want to hide?”
“Not hide, find,” she answered determinedly. She laid her plate on the table and cautiously looked around them again. “I need you to help me find something in the duke’s house.”
His eyes stayed tightly focused on her. “What kind of trouble are you in, Lady Kitson?”
Probably more right now than she actually realized if Mr. Stockton agreed to help her steal the duke’s documents, but she couldn’t back out now. She needed someone who would be as fearless as she had to be in order to outwit the duke and free herself from his unrelenting control. She believed Mr. Stockton was that man.
“It would take too long to explain everything right now. I’ll meet you at the back door at half past midnight and let you inside.”
“Wait.” He laid his plate on the table beside hers. A server approached with a tray of champagne but Mr. Stockton waved him away. “Let’s take this a little slower so I understand. You want me to slip into the duke’s house tonight and help you find and take something that belongs to him?”
Julia looked around again before saying, “I know it’s outrageous, not to mention dangerous, but yes. I need you to move the duke’s desk in his book room so I can see if he has a compartment hidden beneath it. I’ve tried. It’s simply too heavy for me to manage, and for obvious reasons I can’t ask his footman.”
Amusement slowly settled in his features. “So you think because I took grain from a foundering ship, I’ll help you steal something from the duke?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitating. “Documents. Very important ones about the company you and I discussed—where the explosion took place. I have reason to believe the duke secretly owned that company.”
He studied her so closely, she feared he was going to deny her.
“Why would he need to own anything in secret?”
“Because he’s not the honorable man everyone thinks he is, and I’m going to prove he isn’t. I know it’s a lot to ask, Mr. Stockton. Believe me, it’s more dangerous for me than it is for you. I would lose my son if you were discovered in his house, but I am running out of options. If I could trust anyone else not to alert the duke as to what I’m doing, I would ask them. But there’s no one. Will you do it?”
His gaze swept down her face and then back up to her eyes. “Of course. I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to help you.”
Julia sucked in a deep audible breath as her legs trembled with relief. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Lady Kitson, Mr. Stockton,” Lady Hallbury said as she sidled up between them and looked down at their plates. “Do tell me how were the pastries?”
Julia looked down at their plates, too. They were both empty. She quickly glanced over at the silver tray. To her horror, it was empty, too! They had stood there talking and had managed to eat every pastry on the table.
“My compliments, Lady Hallbury,” Mr. Stockton said with a nod. “In all my travels, I’ve never had more delicious sweets.”
Lady Hallbury beamed with a satisfied smile. “Don’t stop now. Move on to another table and have more. I’m quite delighted. I didn’t expect anyone to eat a morsel. They usually don’t. I do love surprises.”