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.”