Never Less Than a Lady Read Free

as if I’d invented babies.”
    Julia laughed. “I know the feeling. Helping a baby into the world is a joy.”
    Jenny reached into her bag. “Mr. Wolf sent along a nice bit of bacon.”
    “That will go well with Ellie Flynn’s eggs.”
    “I’ll fix us our tea then.” Jenny headed into the kitchen and set her daughter in a cradle by the hearth. Molly, fourteen months old, yawned hugely and curled up for a nap.
    Julia watched the child fondly. Jenny was not the first desperate pregnant girl who had shown up on Julia’s doorstep, but she was the only one to become part of the household. Jenny had married a man against her family’s wishes. Her family had turned their backs when he abandoned her, saying that she’d made her bed and must lie in it.
    Near starvation, Jenny had offered to work as Julia’s servant for no wages, only food and a roof over her head. The girl had proved to be clever and a hard worker, and after Molly’s birth, she became Julia’s apprentice. She was well on her way to becoming a fine midwife, and she and her child had become Julia’s family.
    Jenny had just called, “Our tea is ready!” when the string of bells that hung on the front door jangled.
    Julia made a face. “I wish I had a shilling for every time I’ve been interrupted during a meal!”
    She stood—then froze with horror at the sight of the three men who entered her home. Two were strangers, but the burly scar-faced leader was familiar. Joseph Crockett, the vilest man she’d ever known, had found her.
    “Well, well, well. So Lady Julia really is alive,” he said menacingly as he pulled a glittering knife from a sheath under his coat. “That can be fixed.”
    Whiskers hissed and dashed into the kitchen while Julia backed away from him, numb with panic.
    After years of quiet hiding, she was a dead woman.
     
    The pretty maid who answered the door of Hartley Manor bobbed a curtsy as she recognized the caller. “I’m sorry, Major Randall, but the Townsends are away from home. A niece of Mrs. Townsend is getting married down south, so they decided to attend the wedding.”
    During Randall’s pleasant fortnight in Scotland with his friend Kirkland, he toyed with the idea of visiting Mariah’s family, but he hadn’t made up his mind until he reached the road that followed the Cumberland coast west to Hartley. He liked the Townsends and there was no harm in calling on them, even if he wasn’t interested in courting Sarah. And if he chanced to see Julia Bancroft—perhaps that would cure him of his unfortunate attraction.
    Impulses didn’t always work out well. He gave one of his cards to the maid. “Please let them know I called.”
    The girl frowned at the card. “It’s getting late, sir. Mr. and Mrs. Townsend will be right unhappy with me if you don’t spend the night here as a guest of the house.”
    Randall hesitated only a moment. There was a decent little inn down in the village, but he’d had a long day, his leg ached, and he was traveling alone since his servant and former batman, Gordon, was visiting his own family. Randall and his horses deserved a rest. “Does Mrs. Beckett still reign in the kitchen?”
    The maid smiled impishly. “She does indeed, sir, and she’d be pleased to have a hungry man to feed.”
    “Then I accept your kind invitation most gratefully.” He descended the stairs to take his light travel carriage and horses around to the stable. While he wouldn’t be seeing Sarah Townsend, surely manners dictated that he pay a call on Mrs. Bancroft in the morning before resuming his journey south.
    Useful things, manners.
     
    Joseph Crockett stepped close and touched the tip of his knife to Julia’s throat. As she stood rigid, wondering if she was going to die right here and now, he growled, “You’re going to take a ride with us, your ladyship. You know who will be at the end of it.” He applied enough pressure to pierce the skin. As a drop of blood oozed down her neck, he added,