Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows' Club Book 4) Page 17

  “You’ll be the first one in the boat.”

  Lulu barked and bared her teeth.

  “The first two in the boat then.” Rob petted the spaniel’s head, narrowly avoiding a nip.

  “Behave, Lulu. He saved your life.” She smiled at him and tucked the dog more securely under her arm. “Lord St. Just is a friend now, remember.”

  Lulu sneezed and shook her head, then sighed.

  Rob grinned. “I think I’ll still beware the dog for a while longer. Now let’s get you on shore.”

  * * *

  The short boat ride was followed by a longer trek, via a pony trap, up a steep, winding road that gave a magnificent and terrifying view of the rocky beach below. Fresh salt breezes were temperate today, making Georgie fling back her head and drink in the clean air. Not that it was different from the air she’d been breathing on the ship but being on solid land again somehow made it better. The air, the wild terrain, the sheer beauty of this place, so completely different from any place she’d ever imagined, created in her a feeling of happiness she’d not experienced in a very long time. Perhaps not since Isaac had died. She’d never believed she could be that happy again, but in the right place, with the right man . . .

  Rob sat next to her, looking ahead up the road. His clean profile accentuated his straight nose and high cheekbones, the strong jaw even now set determinedly, although about what she had no idea. Unless it was how he was going to explain her presence to his mother.

  Her stomach dropped as though she were back on the ship. With everything that had happened in the past days, she’d quite forgotten about this important part of the journey. Making a good impression on older women was of utmost importance. They could make your life miserable, because they’d taken you in dislike for some imagined slight, or delightful simply because you’d pleased them in some way without your knowledge. Meeting Lady St. Just would be even more important because . . .

  Secret thoughts Georgie steadfastly refused to put a name to swirled around her head, but she shooed them away. Being introduced to someone’s mother was an important step in furthering any acquaintance. She and Rob were friends, nothing more. They could be nothing more unless she wished to break once and for all with her father. Sometimes life simply wasn’t fair. Not that she hadn’t known that before.

  The trap finally came to a halt in front of the huge, gray stone castle, its entry door painted a bright blue. Looking upward, which was impossible not to do, Georgie squinted against the sun to see the castellated battlements high above her head. Taller by far than those of Blackham Castle, although the black stone of her family’s dwelling was probably more intimidating than the paler gray here. Still, this was an impressive display of strength.

  “What do you think?” Rob held out his hand to help her down.

  “I was wondering why there isn’t a moat.” She smiled and grasped his hand, always frightfully aware of his touch ever since their encounter on the ship.

  Rob laughed and twined her arm in his, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  No, she could not think that. Not when she had to keep her wits about her to meet his—

  “Mother, may I present Lady Georgina Kirkpatrick? She is Brack’s sister.” Rob fairly beamed as he looked from the tall, elegant woman with dark hair and a sweet face, impeccably dressed in burgundy silk, to her. “Lady Georgina, my mother, the Marchioness of St. Just.”

  “My lady.” Georgie curtsied as low as she could without toppling over on the loose gravel underfoot. “It is such a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And I you, my dear, although I must say you are quite an unexpected pleasure.” She raised her delicate eyebrows. “Do you have something to tell me, St. Just?”

  Rob winced. “Yes, I do, Mamma, although not necessarily what you might think. Come.” He took his mother’s arm on his left without giving up Georgie on his right. “Shall we give Lady Georgina tea before we put her on the rack?”

  “You must excuse my son, Lady Georgina. He has always had a flair for the dramatic.” Lady St. Just gazed up at Rob, a hint of humor in her eyes.

  “I have noted that tendency in him myself, my lady.”

  Rob squeezed her arm in the crook of his.

  Smothering a laugh, Georgie continued in her sweetest tones. “He could have been a credible highwayman or pirate in many a Drury Lane drama.”

  “Indeed?” The marchioness shot Georgie a look that quelled any desire for further levity. “I insist you tell me what has happened, St. Just. Is Lady Georgina in any sort of trouble? Fleeing the authorities, perhaps?”

  Georgie shuddered, her steps slowing until Rob had to pull her over the threshold. Now she had gone and done the very thing she had wanted to avoid. What must Lady St. Just think of her?

  “Don’t fret, Georgie,” Rob whispered in her ear. He’d relinquished his mother’s arm, and the lady had vanished into the interior of the house. “She is simply dying to know what all of this is about. I promise you, she’s going to love you.”

  A silent butler took their coats.

  “But she believes I’m a criminal, escaped from Bow Street or Newgate. Or perhaps even Bedlam.” How horrible for his mother to think such things of her. Of course Georgie’s presence here was unexpected to say the least. What other explanation could the woman expect?

  “Well, you are rather well dressed to be an escapee of any of those establishments, I assure you.”

  Looking down at her attire, Georgie had to admit he was correct. She’d worn the best gown she’d brought, a blue velvet with delicate white Van Dyke lace points at collar and hem. Scarcely the clothing an inmate of Bedlam, or any other institution would wear. “Then why would your mother say—”

  “Shhh.” Rob gathered her arm again. “Let me suggest that the parent from whom I take my sense of the dramatic is my mother.”

  “Oh.” Georgie digested that statement as Rob led her further into the house, up a flight of stone stairs, to the first floor drawing room where tea had been laid. The marchioness sat in a chair large as a throne, a cheerful fire behind her.

  “Welcome, my dear.” Lady St. Just rose and embraced the startled Georgie. “Please be seated. How do you like your tea?”

  “Milk and sugar please.” Perching on the edge of the sofa, Georgie smiled and accepted the cup, although it might choke her to take a sip. Rob was not helping her nervousness any, by staying silent and eating one slim sandwich after another.

  When his mother had finished pouring for herself and Rob, she sat back, sipped, and said, “Now, Robin, if you please. Explain why Lady Georgina is here currently sipping my best blend of Assam and congou.”

  “I told you she would be fine, Lady Georgina.” Rob stopped eating his fourth sandwich to beam at her. “She only calls me St. Just when she’s annoyed with me.”

  “And I shall switch back to that moniker for the rest of the day if you do not tell me—”

  “I was kidnapped, my lady.” Georgie could stand it no more.

  “By my son?”

  “Yes, but that was later.”

  His mother turned to stare at him, her eyes narrow slits. “Robin, for the love of all that is holy . . .”

  Raising his hand, Rob finished his sandwich and sipped a mouthful of tea.

  If the man didn’t say something this minute, Georgie would take up the pretty china teapot and break it over his addlepated head.

  “All right, Mamma. I promise you, this is actually what happened.”

  The next three quarters of an hour was spent describing that day in Portsmouth and the past several days on board the Justine. Lady St. Just’s facial expressions as she listened to the tale convinced Georgie that Rob was correct about where his dramatic nature originated.

  At the end of their story, his mother sighed, shook her head, and raised her cold tea only to find it all gone. “Robin, ring for more tea, please. I feel as though I have been on this journey with you and must keep up my strength. My dear”—she
turned to Georgie—“I am so sorry this happened to you, although had it not I fear we would never have met. And that would be a shame.” The marchioness rose as did Georgie. “Would you like to retire to your room to rest? I have put you in the green room, which overlooks the boxwood maze.”

  “Uh, Mamma, I think you should put Lady Georgina in the blue room.” A hesitation in Rob’s voice brought Georgie’s attention back to him.

  “The blue room? Truly?” Lady St. Just seemed unusually startled at the suggestion.

  “It has such a lovely view of the cove and the ocean beyond.” Fidgeting with his teacup, Rob finally set it down and came over to them. “I’d planned to ask you to arrange that, but we were talking, and I never got the chance to speak to you alone.”

  “Ah, well, we shall make it so. If that’s what you wish, Robin.” One last quizzical look from his mother, who seemed somehow more at ease.

  “It is.”

  “Then, my lady”—Lady St. Just linked her arm in Georgie’s—“there will be a slight delay while your room is readied. I will instruct the footmen to move your things and give any assistance necessary to your maid. In the meanwhile, you might like to take your spaniel, Lulu I think you said her name was, out to the maze. It is a lovely day, especially for early February. You should take advantage of it. I used to walk my pugs out there quite often.” She paused. “I used to have several pugs, quite adorable little animals. The last one, Daisy, was so lonely when all the others died; when she passed on, I didn’t replace her. Perhaps I should do so. Quite good companions, aren’t they?”

  “They are, my lady. I don’t know what I would do without Lulu.” Georgie smiled, unsure how they had gotten off on the subject of pugs. At least Lady St. Just liked dogs. That was one obstacle Georgie wouldn’t need to overcome. Perhaps Lulu would prove a way to stay in the marchioness’s good graces.

  “Why don’t you go on out to the maze, my dear? Robin can bring Lulu out to you.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” Relieved at being given leave to go, Georgie curtsied and hurried from the room. The butler, not quite so silent this time, assisted her with her pelisse and showed her which door led to the maze. The sunlight, so bright earlier, had dimmed a little as the day progressed, but still shone cheerfully on the tall boxwoods. She must make sure not to get lost in there, although she assumed Rob could find her and rescue her again. That made her smile as she walked cautiously into the maze.

  The sensation of being swallowed up by the trees on either side gave her a moment’s concern, but her sense of adventure took over, and soon she was striding forward excitedly, turning first left, then right, until she came to a dead end. Perhaps it was designed that way, for there was a clever little stone bench set against the wall of trees, the perfect place to rest, or to step up and take one’s bearings. Climbing up swiftly, she peered over the tops of the hedges, looking for a glimpse of Rob.

  “There you are.”

  Georgie whirled around, too fast as it turned out. She windmilled her arms to keep from falling off the bench.

  With one giant step, Rob reached her, grasped her around the waist, and steadied her.

  When she had her balance, she rapped him sharply on the shoulder and jumped down. “Why do you insist on sneaking up on me?”

  “Because there’s no fun in it otherwise.” He laughed and whistled, and Lulu came sailing around the edge of the hedge. “I had no idea she would come to a whistle.”

  “Neither did I.” Georgie crouched down to pet the dog.

  “Lulu, have you taken to Rob at last? He can whistle, and you’ll come?”

  Lulu yipped and took off after something rustling in the boxwoods.

  “Well, I certainly hope she will,” Rob said, helping Georgie to her feet, “because I for one do not wish to spend the night searching the maze for a dog. I’d do it,” he added quickly. “I just wouldn’t enjoy it very much.”

  “I can’t say that I would either.” Georgie smoothed her pelisse down as best she could. It was the same light blue one she’d put over Rob to keep him from freezing, and it had not been right ever since. Neither had she.

  “So how do you find Castle St. Just?”

  “Absolutely lovely, Rob.” Not wanting to meet his gaze, she spread her arms and turned around. “Your castle is like something out of a fairy story. That is not always the case with castles, I’ll have you know. I grew up in one that was more of a nightmare.”

  “And you’ll go back there once your brother arrives? You’ll marry Travers?”

  The very thing she did not wish to think of. Not here, in this beautiful place. Not with Rob so close. “I am betrothed to him, Rob.” Summoning her courage, she turned to look at him. “I agreed to the marriage of my own free will. Not for love, no, but for my father and my family. When I disobeyed Father and broke from him to marry Isaac, I lost all connection with my brothers and sisters. My father forbade them from having any contact with me. He disowned me and vowed to treat me as if I were dead to him.” Desperate to move, she paced around the tiny circle. “I could live with that censure while my husband was alive. He was all that I needed. But when he died, I lost everything. My family could not or would not take me in, so I had to beg to live with my sister-in-law who despised me because my marriage had cost her father his living. Isaac’s father was our parish vicar, and when he married us, without Father’s approval, he was turned out of the vicarage almost overnight.”

  “Georgie—”

  “No, Rob.” She blinked back tears she didn’t want to fall. “You have to listen. You have to understand how it was. Mrs. Robinson took me in, out of common Christian charity, she said, but she treated me worse than any servant in my father’s house. I wore my mourning clothes long after my period of mourning was officially over, not only because I still missed Isaac, but because I had no money for new clothes. My friend Elizabeth took pity on me and had some of her gowns made over to fit me, else I’d have been wearing those hideous dresses still.” Rubbing away the tears that had insisted on falling, Georgie came back to stand in front of Rob. “So when my father sent for me and said he’d take me back if I agreed to marry Travers, I had no choice but to say yes. My mother’s inheritance does not come to me until I am thirty. Do you know a gentleman who would wish to wait so long, who would take me with nothing to my name?”

  He took her hands, which made her want to cry all the harder. “Georgina, they would line the streets of London if only you would say the word. And I would be at the head of the line.”

  “What?”

  “Do you think your father would change his mind if someone else offered for your hand?” He grinned down at her like a lunatic. “Someone with more wealth and better social position than Travers could ever hope to have.” Loosening his hands from hers, he stroked his thumb down her cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Someone you would prefer to marry.”

  Scarcely able to make sense of his words, Georgie gasped as Rob tilted her face up to his and pressed his mouth to hers. As though the world around her had stopped, she knew only the touch of his lips and the fierce longing that their gentle touch awakened in her. She slid her hands up to cup his face, to keep them together as long as she possibly could.

  He must have taken that as a signal, for he immediately deepened the kiss, his tongue stealing into her mouth, exploring her, tasting her, teasing her. Promising more if she wished it. A more secluded spot could not be found for a passionate tryst. And she did wish for more. But not quite yet.

  With a sadness that was almost physical, she backed away and let him go.

  To her surprise, he smiled as broadly as if she’d just given him the moon. “I shall write directly to your father, Georgie. I am an eligible parti with a good reputation. He should consider my suit.”

  “I am already betrothed, Rob.” Oh, but she did not wish to get her hopes up. “Besides that, my father never changes his mind.”

  Grinning even more widely, Rob took her arm and whistled for
Lulu. “I think we shall have to see about that.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The cramped cabin Jemmy had procured onboard the Pegasus, bound for Scotland, but stopping in Penzance, proved barely large enough for him and Elizabeth to stand up and turn around in, but as the saying went, beggars couldn’t be choosers. They’d been lucky to find any vessel heading out this time of year, according to the captain Jemmy had contacted upon their arrival in Portsmouth. Thank God the journey would only take three days, plus another half-day’s travel by coach from Penzance to St. Just. For what seemed like the thousandth time, he cursed Rob heartily for bringing them on this wretched journey.

  “Are you ready, my dear?” He truly did not know how Elizabeth was managing to cope with the accommodations, but she seemed to be taking it all in stride. To look at her now, dressed for dinner in a lovely maroon gown with small puffed sleeves, hair swept on top of her head, her eyes sparkling in the light of the one candle, she might have just stepped out of their chamber at her parents’ town home in London.

  “I am.” She grinned at him as she pulled her gloves on. “Such an adventure this is, my love. I am quite enjoying our little trip so far. If we find Georgie safe and sound at journey’s end, I will count this one of the most remarkable exploits of my life.”

  Shaking his head, Jemmy took her arm and kissed her cheek. “I am glad you are finding our journey so much to your liking, Elizabeth. I pray, however, that such ‘adventures’ will come to us but rarely. I, for one, am extremely put out by the whole escapade. I still cannot fathom what Rob was thinking to bring Georgie off all the way to Cornwall.”

  “Please do not continue to let it upset you, my dear.” Elizabeth patted his arm, and he opened the door that led directly onto the much more spacious dining room. The other five or six passengers and several officers were already assembled, although no one had sat down as yet.

  “Lord Brack, I believe?” A young man in blue officer’s garb bowed to him. “I am the Pegasus’s first officer, Mr. Benton. How do you do?”

  “How do you do, sir.” Jemmy turned to Elizabeth. “My dear, this is our first officer, Mr. Benton. May I present my wife, Lady Brack?” Jemmy’s chest swelled whenever he introduced Elizabeth as his wife. He doubted that pride would ever go away.