A Gentleman By Any Other Name by Kasey Michaels Read Free Book Online Page B

fight begun by François Touissant, a slave whose master made the colossal blunder of allowing him to read about the so-glorious French Revolution. In other words, I am agreeing with your father, such an event is possible. And, yes, oppression makes such insurrections more than possible. Are you familiar with the history of Haiti, Miss Carruthers?”
    Julia shook her head, interested and not a little impressed at Chance Becket’s so-smooth pronunciation of such tongue-twisting French names. “I’m sorry, I’m not. It’s an island? Is sugar grown there?”
    Chance wished back his words. “Another time, Miss Carruthers. I was only thinking that there has already been one instance of a people copying the methods of the French Revolution. Indeed, we do not want another, most especially not here. Let me tell you about Becket Hall. Shall we walk?”
    â€œI really should go upstairs to check on Miss Alice,” Julia said, getting to her feet.
    â€œI’ll have a maid sent up to sit with her. Alice has no problem with strangers.”
    Julia still believed she should return to Alice’s chamber, but she did long to hear about Becket Hall and the Becket family, as well as more about Haiti, of all places. “Very well,” she said, handing over the key to the chamber. “But wait, I’ll do it. I should go fetch my bonnet anyway.”
    â€œNot if you have any pity for me, Miss Carruthers. The thing is close to an abomination, you know. Even that ridiculous bun is less offensive to the eyes.”
    Julia went to raise a hand to her hair but caught herself in time. “One would assume you, too, were a motherless child, Mr. Becket, as that was quite an untactful remark.”
    Chance did not smile. “Wait for me here, Miss Carruthers, doing your best to keep any opinions to yourself.”
    Julia gave herself another short, pithy sermon on the benefits of knowing her place while also taking the time to munch on another slice of ham and tuck a roll into the pocket of her gown before her employer returned and led her out onto the street.
    He turned to the left and then guided her around the side of the large building, down a gravel pathway to a bench that overlooked the River Medway. Or the River Wen. Julia only knew that Maidstone had been built on the banks of both waterways. Until the horrible mail coach ride to London that now seemed two lifetimes ago, she had never strayed more than a few miles from Hawkhurst, except for occasional trips to Rye with her father.
    She sat, raising her face to the sun while she listened to the flow of water through the wheel of the mill on the opposite shore, the song of birds overhead…and concentrated on not thinking about the man sitting beside her. And there were flowers; flowers everywhere. Maidstone had been touted as the Garden of England, and now she knew why. “I still can’t smell the Channel, but we will tomorrow. How near is Becket Hall to the water?”
    â€œAll but too near when the tide comes in during a winter storm,” Chance said, a mental portrait of Becket Hall forming in his mind. “My father loves the sea.”
    â€œAnd you don’t?”
    This woman turned his every spoken word into a question about him. How did she do that? “I’ve sailed. Now, you’ll be with Alice at most times, but I know my family. They’re extremely informal and they’ll wish to include both of you in their day-to-day lives, so you’d best be prepared for that.”
    Julia could sense tension building in the man, from his posture to the tone of his voice. “You disapprove?”
    â€œIt’s not up to me to approve or disapprove. Only to explain. My father, Ainsley Becket, is still a rather young man. We’re not his children by blood, you see, except for Cassandra. In truth, I only refer to Ainsley as my father when I’m in society, because that’s easier than constant