Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows' Club Book 4) Page 15

  “This is something that I have sorely missed these last two years,” Georgie said, as she licked the last crumbs of her gooseberry tartlet off the fork.

  “Gooseberry tarts?” Rob slid the plate that still contained two of the little tarts toward her. “Please help yourself. If your cook requires the recipe, I shall have Barnes write it out for you directly.”

  “Not the tarts, although they were lovely. I must tell Barnes so.” She put her fork down on the plate and took a long sip of wine. “No, I meant having dinner alone with a man, with my husband, Mr. Isaac Kirkpatrick.”

  Rob sat back, his fingers gripping the stem of his glass. “I see. I beg your pardon, Georgina. You have my most sincere condolences.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled, but it was a mere raising of the corners of her lips. No warmth behind it. “It is interesting how you miss a person in stages. At least I did. At first, I could not take it in that he was gone. I’d look up each time someone entered a room, convinced it would be him.”

  “I would think that natural.” Rob did not wish to hear this confession, but would not stop her. Perhaps she needed to think about her husband after the eventful day she’d had.

  “I suppose so, but it hurt abominably to hope and have that hope dashed every day.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “By the time that stage had passed, I had met the other widowed ladies of my circle, which was comforting. Still, I missed my husband terribly. I missed bringing him tea in the study, or walking hand in hand in the evenings, down by the river in the village where we lived.” She glanced at Rob, that sad smile again on her lips. “I still miss sitting across from him at dinner. We would talk about what we had done that day, or what had bloomed in the garden, or what had gone on in the village. Simple things that formed the basis of our life together.”

  “You loved him very much.”

  “I did. I truly did.” She wiped a tear that had welled up out of her eyes. “He was the kindest, most thoughtful, most loving person I have ever met. I fear I shall never love another man as I did him.” Looking into his eyes, she swallowed, and paused. “So why should I even try? Why not appease my father and have some peace between us if my marriage to Lord Travers will accomplish such a thing?”

  Moved by her deep sorrow, Rob took her hand in his. “Because you deserve whatever happiness you can carve out of your life, my dear. No one can take the place of your husband in your heart.” Rob stared at her hand. “But there are other gentlemen who are kind, and thoughtful, and loving. They may not be Mr. Kirkpatrick, but they are decent men who would try their best to make you happy for the rest of your life. If you can, give them the chance to do so.”

  Nodding her head, Georgie slipped her hand from his. “Thank you, Rob. You are very kind.”

  Their eyes met, a timeless moment in which he could have drowned a second time that day, this time in the green depths that drew him closer to her. Even closer as he leaned toward her, toward the red lips he wanted desperately to kiss, toward the slim body he longed to hold once more, if only to comfort her, to take away her pain.

  She stopped breathing as she gazed at him, searching his face for something only she could determine. Then, with a sigh, she drew back and stood. “I believe I have had quite enough adventures for one day, Rob.” Her happy smile had returned. “Thank you once more for a lovely dinner and for being Lulu’s rescuer.”

  “It has truly been my pleasure, Georgina.”

  “Georgina?” She stiffened and gave him an arch look.

  “Georgie.” He laughed and stood. “May I escort you to your cabin?”

  Nodding, she drew her shawl back over her shoulders and took his arm. “Yes. You must protect me from the ravening hordes of . . . What do you have hordes of on a ship?”

  Laughing, Rob opened the door. “I am sorry to disappoint, but there are no hordes, ravening or otherwise, on this ship, my dear. I must confess I asked to escort you simply to spend another moment or two in your excellent company.” He stopped outside her chamber door and disengaged her arm, though he kept hold of her hand. “I enjoyed our dinner immensely. Thank you for a lovely evening.” He bent toward her, close enough to hear her light gasp. It shot a bolt of hope through his heart as he lifted her hand and kissed it. “Good night.”

  With a slight bow, Rob turned back to his cabin, treading softly enough that he heard her door open. Hand on his door latch, he glanced back at her. Their gazes met for a heated second that stole his breath, then she was gone. For now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “The morning post for you, my lord.”

  Jemmy, Lord Brack, took a swallow of coffee in the breakfast room just as Lord Lathbury’s excellent butler placed a silver salver with two letters on it before him.

  “Thank you, Smythe.” Jemmy raised his eyebrows at his wife, sitting across the table from him. He waited for the servant to leave, then leaned across the table. “Do you know what that means, my dear?”

  Elizabeth, Lady Brack, put a small piece of ham in her mouth and chewed vigorously. Once she swallowed, she smiled at her husband. “I suppose it may mean that you are an amazingly clever gentleman, and all your friends follow your every movement so they may consult you on their personal affairs as well as affairs of state.”

  Jemmy laughed and picked up the first letter. “I was going to say it meant everyone had discovered where we are. I had quite looked forward to enjoying the solitude here in Buckinghamshire, just the two of us alone. But I see by the seal this letter is from Father, one of the few people who knew we were here for the wedding.”

  “I would hardly say being with a houseful of wedding guests qualifies as alone, my love.” She placed her napkin beside her plate and caught his gaze. “Alone would give us much more time together.” Her voice had changed to sultry tones. “Together as we were earlier this morning.”

  “My dear.” Jemmy set the letter down and leaned closer. Since the beginning of her pregnancy, his wife had become even more amorous, especially in the mornings. Not that he was complaining at all. “Are you feeling fatigued, perhaps? Shall I escort you back to our chamber and tuck you into bed? I promise to attend to your every need.”

  Laughing, Elizabeth sipped her tea, her dark eyes promising that she would take him up on his offer. “I think I can manage until you’ve read your letters, my love. If you don’t dawdle.”

  Eagerly, Jemmy grasped the top letter, heavy cream-colored paper he had recognized on sight, and turned it over, popping the black seal. “I do dread opening this. Missives from Father never bring good news.”

  “What ill tiding could he have, my love? He is more than pleased with our marriage now, and with the son I may bear you. Georgie has been a model daughter. What else could be wrong?” She grasped Jemmy’s hands, arresting his opening the blasted letter and sending a wave of desire throughout his body.

  Confound it, Father could very well wait. He must tend to his wife’s—and his own—needs immediately. “Elizabeth, why don’t we—”

  “I simply wanted to say, don’t borrow trouble, my dear. Believe me, it will take up residence soon enough on its own.” She settled back in her chair, loosening her grip on his hands.

  Breathing deeply, to calm himself and refrain from ravishing his wife here on his host’s breakfast table, Jemmy relaxed back in his chair. “I do not tell you enough how much I love you, Elizabeth.” He grasped her hands afresh and raised them to his lips. Their warmth made him tingle.

  “You show me how much every chance you get.” Her eyes twinkled. “As I said. Earlier this morning.”

  Jemmy groaned as his cock bumped against his breeches, insistent even after their thorough and passionate encounter just after dawn this morning. That vigorous lovemaking probably accounted for his increased appetite just now. He’d been ravenous when he’d come down to breakfast. And still was. “I hope to do so every day—several times every day—for the rest of our lives.” Memory of their tangled sheets this morning spurred him on. “So now, why don�
�t you allow me to escort you back upstairs?”

  Elizabeth tapped the letter with one long, elegant finger. “Your father before pleasure, my dear. What does his letter say?”

  Groaning, Jemmy unfolded the thick paper and began to read the severe strokes made by his father’s pen, always pressed deeply into the stationery.

  Brack,

  I wish to inform you that I have, this instant, been told by Folger, my coachman, that my carriage was overtaken at The Running Horse Inn in Leatherhead, and Georgina and her maid were abducted. Folger insists that he, my groom, and two outriders were accosted, bound and gagged, and left in the woods behind the inn. They were not discovered until the following morning, half frozen, although once they were freed and restored they returned to Blackham immediately with the tale. From your sister I have not heard a word.

  In light of these events, I must assume that Georgina, with her unfortunate history of headstrong behavior, has taken it into her head, once again, to disobey me and elope with some new, inappropriate man. If you have communication with her, inform her that I will make good on my promise to cut her off from the family, and treat her as though she were dead and without a farthing.

  Yrs,

  Blackham

  Alarm growing as he read the missive, Jemmy raised his stricken face to Elizabeth.

  A puzzled frown on her countenance was turning to an expression of concern. She stopped with her teacup poised inches before her lips. “Jemmy, what is the matter? Is it your father? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Jemmy’s heart thumped painfully inside his chest as he expelled the breath he’d been holding while he read his father’s ghastly letter. “My dear, Georgie is missing.”

  Elizabeth’s cup rattled into its saucer. “Georgie missing? She can’t be missing. She left here three days ago.”

  “She has apparently not arrived at Blackham as was expected. Father tells me his coachman told him Georgie and Clara were abducted at an inn in Leatherhead.” The hearty breakfast he’d just finished had turned to lead in his stomach. “Father assumes she has eloped with someone yet again. If you know anything about her meeting a man, please tell me, my love. My fear for her grows by the minute.”

  Shaking her head, Elizabeth looked aghast. “She told me nothing, Jemmy, I swear. Not a word.” His wife’s face had paled, and he raced around the table to put his arm around her. “Perhaps she is simply trying to delay her return to your father’s estate and her wedding to Lord Travers. You know she was most unhappy with the match.”

  Gripping Elizabeth’s arm, Jemmy helped her rise. “I do not think so, my love. The carriage was actually stolen, apparently. That does not sound as though she was merely trying to delay her return. Something else is afoot here. But come, you should seek your bed. This shock cannot be good for the child. Georgie has ever had a wild streak in her, and her schemes have almost always come aright in the end.” He clenched his jaw. Wait until he found Georgie. She wouldn’t sit down for a week at least.

  Wracking his brain for some clue, some hint from his sister that she had decided to elope again, Jemmy stared at the breakfast table, remembering the last time he’d seen Georgina there. She had been disillusioned but resigned to the marriage with Travers. She wouldn’t have spoken of such a bold move to him certainly, but might have perhaps . . . A completely new idea arose. “Might she have gone to one of her widow friends?”

  “My dear, we are all still here.” Elizabeth shook her head. “She would hardly go to Charlotte’s home while she was not in residence.”

  “But she resided at Lyttlefield Park for some time last autumn. Perhaps—”

  “No, Jemmy.” Elizabeth silenced his protest emphatically. “Lyttlefield has been closed since Charlotte’s wedding last month.” Her hand tightened on his, and she bit her lip. “I pray nothing untoward has befallen Georgie.”

  He squeezed his wife’s hand. In her condition she should not worry about anything. “I’m certain it has not. We simply have not thought this through. Are there other places she might go?”

  Frowning, Elizabeth shook her head. “Jane is still here and, in any case, has only Lord Theale’s townhouse as her residence. Georgie would not go there after Fanny’s tale of his treachery. And as for Maria, well . . .”

  His wife gave him a speaking look. Another of their widow friends had caused a tremendous scene at a house party last October, and actually eloped with one of the guests. Again, not someone Georgina would have gone to, even under duress.

  Worry lines appeared around Elizabeth’s eyes. “Jemmy, what if she has truly been abducted?”

  “I doubt that very much, my dear.” He patted her hands. “Father made no mention of any sort of a ransom demand. And the country is very settled. No highwaymen about as they were last century.”

  All the same, a tickle of unease twitched the hairs on the back of his neck. Still, he wouldn’t alarm his wife unduly.

  “Do not fret, love.” Jemmy smoothed out the wrinkles in her brow. “I am certain there is a good explanation for this behavior. Georgie is well-known within the family for possessing an endless supply of those. Meanwhile, I shall write to Father and tell him I will go to Byfleet and see if I can discover anything of her whereabouts there. My sister will feel the sting of a cane on her derriere if this is some lark she is attempting on her own.” Despite his carefree words, however, Jemmy’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of Georgie in actual danger.

  “Who is your other letter from?” Elizabeth nodded at the remaining piece of folded stationery. Quite different paper, foolscap in fact, the direction splotched and the seal half broken.

  “Let me see. I don’t think it’s from Georgie—Oh, good show. It’s from Rob.” Jemmy popped the remaining piece of red sealing wax off the letter with such force he sent it flying up into the air. “Please be seated, my love. I don’t want you to fatigue yourself. I’ll be just a moment reading this.”

  “I had no idea a letter from Lord St. Just would be deemed so exciting.” Smiling at last, Elizabeth sat back in the chair and took a sip of tea.

  “His letters do not always elicit such a reaction, I assure you,” Jemmy said, settling back into his chair and unfolding the page. “But I wrote to him some time ago with the request to help me think of some way to stop Georgie from wedding Travers.”

  “Lord St. Just has knowledge of such schemes to jilt a man?” Delicate eyebrows raised, Elizabeth set her cup back into its saucer. “I shudder to think what escapades the gentleman has engaged in.”

  “Why will women think ill of Rob?” Jemmy said absently, smoothing out the page with his friend’s message. “First Georgie calls him a pirate, and now you, my own wife, is deeming him unsavory.” Raising his head, he tried to look sternly at Elizabeth, but failed miserably. “I will have you know, my best friend is . . .” Pausing, he stared at the opening lines of the letter, reading them again. And again.

  “Your friend is what, my love?”

  “A pirate!” Jemmy crushed the sheet of paper in his fist.

  “What?” Elizabeth jerked toward him.

  “A blackguard.”

  “Jemmy!” Her eyes were like blue saucers.

  “A fatherless cur.” By God, he couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call the scoundrel.

  That had brought his wife to her feet. “Jemmy, for goodness sakes, what has he done?”

  “He’s taken Georgie.”

  “What? No.” Elizabeth sank back into her chair. “But why? He’s your friend, Jemmy. Why would he do such a thing?”

  “All I can think is that he’s run mad.” Mad as a hatter. That was the only explanation Jemmy could muster.

  “What does he say?”

  Prying his fingers from around the crumpled paper, he thrust it at Elizabeth. “You read it. I cannot . . .” He couldn’t believe it. As though someone had ripped out his very soul, the betrayal left a gaping hole in him. Rob had kidnapped Georgina. God have mercy on his soul when Jemmy laid
hands on him.

  With shaking hands, Elizabeth seized the letter and read it aloud.

  Dear Brack,

  I must inform you that I have your sister, Lady Georgina, with me on the Justine currently anchored at Portsmouth Point. I will be setting sail with her on the evening tide bound for St. Just Castle in Cornwall.

  Elizabeth’s voice faltered, her gaze straying from the startling words to Jemmy’s face.

  How could Rob do such a thing and then calmly write to Jemmy about it? He must be mad.

  “Shall I read more?” Her face pale, Elizabeth nevertheless spoke calmly.

  “Please. I could get no further.” Jemmy slumped in his chair and covered his face, expecting he knew not what.

  I am taking this drastic course of action because the lady claims she was kidnapped on the road and brought to Portsmouth against her will.

  “What?” Bolting upright again, Jemmy snatched the paper from his wife’s hands. Elizabeth sat back in her chair, her mouth open, though no sound came out.

  If this abduction was part of your own plan to thwart the lady’s upcoming nuptials, I do beg your pardon.

  “He thinks I had my sister kidnapped?” Jemmy jerked up in his chair. Good God, his friend had indeed run mad.

  “Hush, Jemmy. Let me finish.” Elizabeth’s hands shook as she continued.

  But as I have no way to ascertain your involvement in these actions, I believe I must intervene to assure myself of the lady’s continued good health and welfare.

  Therefore, I am sailing back to St. Just this instant with Lady Georgina, her maid, and her dog. They will be safe at my estate with my mother, where we will await your arrival to fetch the lady to your home.

  Yr obdt servant and friend,

  St. Just