Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows' Club Book 4) Page 20

  Rob danced closer to Travers, who skittered backward until he bumped against the wall, just underneath the medieval knight’s sword. Wouldn’t it be wonderful for that blade to crash down on the old reprobate’s head and end everyone’s misery?

  Swinging back around toward Brack, Rob raised his chin. “What’s it going to be? Words or war?”

  “Words for the moment, I suppose.” The bleak look still hadn’t left Brack’s face. “But don’t for a moment suppose that your affront to decency has been remedied. It has not. You compromised my sister.”

  “I did no such—” Rob lowered his voice, although the servants had certainly already gotten an ear and an eyeful. “I did no such thing. Come. Let us at least be uncivil in private.” He led them to a small, scarcely used reception room near the foyer and shut the door. Close enough, however, to be able to call a footman and have the both of them escorted out of the house and off the property if necessary.

  The small room, while sparsely furnished with a writing desk, chaise, and chair, had the added advantage of also containing a decanter of cognac and numerous glasses. Rob headed straight for it, poured himself a half a tumbler full with a remarkably steady hand, then nodded to Brack to take a glass. Having poured a hefty tot for his erstwhile friend, Rob sighed deeply and indicated for Travers to pick up a glass. Even if he despised the man, he’d summon the common decency to offer him a drink—before throwing him out.

  Travers stared first at the glass, then at Rob, but his thirst apparently won out, and he grasped the heavy tumbler and held it out to Rob. Once they all had libations in hand, Rob put his back against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and said, “Now, do you want to hear the truth of the matter or not?”

  Neither man he faced seemed ready to want to listen to anything. Brack paced, grumbling under his breath, and Travers clenched his jaw so tightly Rob frankly wondered how he managed to drink the brandy. Still, he did so with alarming regularity.

  “The truth, as you wrote it to me in your own hand, is that you absconded with my sister against her will.” Brack stepped forward, then thought better of it and took a gulp of the brandy instead. “How did you ever think to get away with this escapade, Rob?”

  Well, thank God for small allowances. Jemmy was calling him Rob again. Perhaps all was not lost. “There was no escapade on my part, Brack, I swear. Lady Georgina literally ran into me on the streets of Portsmouth, claiming to have been kidnapped.”

  “So you wrote.”

  “So your sister will say, and her maid along with her, if you’ll only ask her.” Travers remained oddly silent, brooding about Georgie, perhaps. Well, let him fret all he wanted. The loathsome man would marry her when pigs flew with their tails forward. “I have tended to believe her because I had the devil’s own time retrieving her trunks out from under the noses of the kidnappers.”

  “You found the ruffians who kidnapped Georgina? And you didn’t tell anyone?” Jemmy stared at Rob as if he were a lunatic. “Why didn’t you contact the authorities?”

  “Look, Jemmy. I had to sail on the evening tide. There wasn’t a lot of time to ask questions. I did what I thought best, which was bringing the lady with me rather than risk her falling back into those ruffians’ hands on the way back to Blackham. I’d only a small crew with me on that trip.” He looked at his friend, though he waited for an explosion from Travers any moment. That one had been almost suspiciously quiet throughout the interrogation.

  “And nothing untoward occurred between you and Lady Georgina?” The tension in Jemmy’s face eased a trifle. “Even if it didn’t—”

  “I assure you it did not.”

  “It had better not have.” Travers spoke up for the first time since they had come into the room.

  “I could scarcely take advantage of a woman who was being violently ill for most of the voyage. Not the sort of mood one wants to encounter when bent on ravishment.” Jemmy and Travers didn’t necessarily need to know that, in this case, Rob’s definition of “most of the voyage” was much shorter than other people’s.

  “She was ill the whole time?” Suspicion written on his face, Jemmy cocked his head.

  “Well, she finally made it up on deck, and her wretched little dog ended up going over the side.” He had to tell Jemmy that much. Georgie would be sure to do so and praise Rob’s rescue with every breath.

  “Lulu?” Jemmy turned quite pale. “Lulu was . . . lost?”

  “And found, thank goodness, or your sister would quite likely have drowned me. I didn’t miss it by far in any case.” Rob couldn’t help but smile at the looks of astonishment on the gentlemen’s faces. “I dove in after her and, by the grace of God, rescued her.”

  “More fool you, St. Just.” Shaking his head, Travers smirked then downed his glass. “Got another dram?”

  Silently, Rob poured, assured the irony of insulting a man in one breath and asking for a drink of his best cognac with the next was lost on Travers. It apparently wasn’t lost on Jemmy, who was attempting not to choke on his brandy.

  “So you see, she was perfectly well chaperoned by her maid, and I was frozen solid the last day or so of the journey. Completely incapacitated. Needn’t worry at all about improprieties.” Oh, but he’d probably spend an extra decade or two in purgatory for telling that single lie. “And of course, Lady Georgina has been under my mother’s chaperonage and my protection since our arrival. Nothing untoward could be said about her.”

  Jemmy shook his head. “I don’t know about that, Rob. All it will take is one murmured rumor that she was on that ship with you and your crew, and her reputation will be in ruins. The ton talks whether there is substance or not to the tale.”

  “The only way to stop such a thing from happening is for Lady Georgina to accompany me back to Blackham where we will be married at once.” Travers nodded, as though the matter had been settled.

  “Over my dead body.” Rob slammed his glass down on the desk and lunged at Travers.

  With difficulty, Jemmy managed to separate the two men. “My sister will be returning with me and Lady Brack and no one else. In my father’s absence, I am guardian over her and none other.” He glared at Travers, who scowled, but backed down. A moment later Jemmy had turned a stern gaze on Rob. “Do you agree as well?”

  “Of course. You are her brother.” Rob glared at Travers briefly, then turned his attention back to Jemmy. “But I will give you notice that I intend to accompany you and put my suit forth before your father for Lady Georgina’s hand.”

  “So you do wish to marry her?” Jemmy’s features relaxed.

  “What?” Travers’s face darkened as his brows drew downward, his lips puckered into a grimace. “I am already betrothed to her.”

  “A mere formality.” Waving the betrothal away like an unwanted dish at dinner, Rob couldn’t refrain from goading the hateful man. “I do wish to marry her, Jemmy. And since minds can be changed, even the Marquess of Blackham’s, I will live with that hope. Especially when he sees clearly that I am the better man.” Rob looked Travers up and down, with an insolence he rarely used. “In so many ways.”

  With a maddened roar, Travers charged Rob, grabbing him around the waist and shoving him against the wall. “Not if you’re a dead man.” Drawing back his fist, Travers was about to let fly with a punishing blow when Rob ducked under his elbow, grabbing his arm as he spun him around.

  “We’ll see who’s the dead man, Travers.” Rob cocked his arm back and put his weight behind the blow, connecting to the earl’s stomach with a solid punch.

  “Ooof.” Air rushed out of Travers, and the man slid to the floor, groaning.

  “Joseph!” Rob pushed past the crumpled heap and strode to the door, pulling it open and bellowing again. “Joseph!”

  “Yes, my lord.” A strapping footman, over six feet tall, appeared in the doorway.

  “Please take this heap of ”—Rob gestured to the downed man—“clothing outside and make sure it leaves the property post haste.”
>
  “Of course, my lord.” Grasping Travers under his arms, Joseph hauled him backward out of the room.

  “Let go of me, you oaf.” The faint but aggravated tones of the earl continued through the foyer, until they were cut off abruptly.

  “Did your footman take retribution on Travers, do you think?” Jemmy had started toward the door.

  “No, I believe my butler, Myers, simply shut the front door on them.” Rob picked up the decanter. “More brandy?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The afternoon and evening flew by for Georgie. She and Elizabeth talked and talked, trying to catch up. By the time Rob found them to tell them to dress for dinner, Georgie had confessed her strong affection for the Marquess of St. Just and the nascent hope that events would work out in their favor. “Being a daughter of the Cross family, I have no reason to hope that Father will break the contract with Lord Travers,” she told Elizabeth as they made their way upstairs to their chambers. “But now knowing Rob as I do, I cannot help but hope. He has a way of making things happen that you do not expect.”

  At the door of the guest room, Elizabeth hugged her. “I hope and pray this comes out right for you, my dear. You so deserve your happy ending after all you have endured.”

  “Travers certainly could not be deemed a happy ending, could he? I mean, not unless one had a very odd sense of happiness, that is.” Quite the opposite, in fact.

  “I imagine so, dear.”

  “Here, let me allow you to dress. I will see you at dinner.” Georgie gave her friend a hug and flitted down the corridor, suddenly certain everything would work out, although she had no idea how.

  Dinner was lively, with much stimulating conversation, mostly from Lady St. Just, who seemed happy with more unexpected company. Although Georgie tried her best to hold up her end of the conversation, she’d been placed at Rob’s right, and that gentleman monopolized her as much as he could. He also distracted her terribly by holding her hand under cover of the tablecloth in between the courses. Nothing could be more disturbing than having a gentleman rub his thumb across your bare knuckles and not be able to react to it. Of course, she would never complain about such a thing, even if she could. His warm skin on hers kindled a blaze deep within, awakening appetites not meant for a dining room.

  After an eternity of such exquisite torture, the marchioness rose, Elizabeth following suit. Georgie attempted to rise, but Rob would not let go of her hand.

  “Rob,” she whispered under her breath, all the while smiling and fiddling with her gloves as the other ladies filed out. “You must let go. They will think it peculiar if I stay with the gentlemen.”

  “Come with me,” he whispered back. “I’ll just escort your sister to the drawing room, Brack,” he called to Jemmy as they hurried out of the room.

  “What has gotten into you, Rob? What are you doing?”

  He’d pulled her into the library, now very dimly lit by a single candelabra.

  “You are not going to try to frighten me again with that murderous book, are you?” Really, Rob was too ripe and ready by half, as Jemmy used to say. Always kicking up a lark of some sort. “It will not work a second time, my dear.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head and shut the door. “No, my love. Far from it.” Pulling her to him, he sank his mouth onto hers, stealing her breath away.

  Wave after wave of pulsing pleasure flowed through her, heating her blood until every inch of her burned with need. Need for him. Pressing herself against him fully, she reveled in their closeness, in the rightness of their being together. She’d never believed anyone could make her as happy as Isaac had, but she’d been wrong. When Rob held her in his arms, she wanted nothing more in the world than to stay within their loving circle. Forever and ever, amen.

  An urgent bumping, in the vicinity of her nether regions, brought her back to the dim library. Rob had maneuvered them so her back pressed against the wall, and he plastered himself against her, every inch touching from the top of her chest, across her breasts, to her stomach, her hips. The insistent prodding was definitely coming from him—and she could guess why. She didn’t want to tell him this was hardly the time or the place for such antics, but his lips lingered on hers, so sweet . . . “Umm, Rob.”

  “Hmm?” Leaving her mouth, he slid his lips down the side of her neck, making shivers cascade down her spine. “Mmm.”

  “Mmm, yes, I know. But we really must stop.” Oh, but she didn’t want to.

  “I know.” He trailed his lips further down into the décol-letage of her favorite dress.

  Except the fichu had somehow gone missing, so he’d buried his face into the V of her breasts. Lord, but it had gotten extremely hot in here. Panting, and with a supreme effort, she pushed at his chest. “Rob, we must stop.”

  He sighed, the cool air of his breath wafting over, pebbling her skin where it touched. Then he took a step back. “I’m sorry. This has not gone quite to plan.”

  “I don’t mind.” She took his hands and smiled. “Most of our plans have managed to go awry, yet here we are.” Wanting another kiss, she swayed toward him. She could tempt a saint if she put her mind to it, and Rob was certainly no saint, if that kiss was any indication. “Shall we try again?”

  “Well, but I had something else in mind, Georgie.” He gazed deeply into her eyes, and she simply melted. “I need you to know I love you. Before anything else happens.”

  Heart beating so fast she had to gasp in air, Georgie beamed at him. “I love you too, Rob. More than anything in this world.”

  “You do? Truly?” Eyes black with desire, he raised her hands and kissed the palms, his tongue stealing out to touch her flesh.

  She shivered at this intimate caress, and a deep yearning to enfold him, to take him into her body, to complete the ritual of love engulfed Georgie. He seemed eager, and so was she. What did anything else matter? “Yes, my love. And if you wish to do it here in the library, then we’d better hurry. I do not want Elizabeth, or your mother, or even worse, Jemmy barging in on us.”

  “That might be awkward, true.” Rob squeezed her hands. “Still, I didn’t want to rush through it. This will be a momentous occasion in our lives. I want us to savor it.”

  Dear, sweet man. But impractical as most men were. “That is lovely, my dear, but I fear if you want us to savor it, we will have to put it off. They will certainly come in search of us any moment.”

  “I cannot wait any longer, my love. I think we will have time.” The love and longing in his face decided her.

  “All right.” She dropped his hands and turned her back to him. “Can you manage the laces?”

  “What? Why would you want to do that?”

  The surprise in his voice baffled her. “I don’t want to ruin my favorite gown.” Surely the man had undressed a woman before? An even more embarrassing thought occurred, and she grew still. “Rob, you’re not a virgin, are you?”

  “Georgie! What does that have to do with it?”

  “I mean, it would not matter to me, my dear.” She turned to him and grasped his hands again. “I have been married before. I know what to do.”

  His mouth twitched. “I assure you, I know what to do as well.” He squeezed her hands tightly.

  “Oh.” She couldn’t understand his hesitation, then. “So, we really should get on with it.” She peered into the gloom at the door. “Someone could come in.”

  “That at least is true, so I will proceed.” Rob’s smile vanished as he went down on one knee, just like he was going to . . .

  “Oh!” Startled, she tried to pull back, but he held on steadfastly to her hands.

  “No, no. You are not getting away from me. Ever.” Gazing deeply into her eyes, Rob took a deep breath. “Lady Georgina, it would be the greatest honor of my life if you would consent to marry me and become my wife. I have never felt for any other lady of my acquaintance what I feel when I see you. Which is that I want to spend the rest of my life making you the happiest of women.” He bowed his head. “W
ill you, Georgie? Please, for God’s sake, say yes. I don’t think I can do this again.”

  “Yes, Rob. Yes, I will marry you.” Joy erupted in her heart, so much happiness that she didn’t know what to do. Should she kiss him? Should they shake hands? She wanted to jump up and down like she had done when she was a child, on the rare occasions when she had been taken out for a treat. This treat, however, would be hers forever.

  Rob seemed to have no reservations. Slowly, he stood and pulled her to him. “May I now kiss the bride-to-be?”

  “You may.” She threw her arms around his neck and jumped into his arms.

  Their lips met and held, their mouths melded perfectly together. As though they had always been meant to be as one. She wanted to drink in this moment, remember it just like this through the years.

  Straightening as he eased her to the floor, Rob grinned widely at her. “Now that the proposal is over, we can turn to other, more interesting things this evening.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I believe you wanted to engage in a very different sort of activity a few minutes ago, my love.”

  Mortified, Georgie hid her face, wanting nothing more than to kill him.

  “I am happy to oblige you, if you still desire to do so.”

  “Wretch.” She pulled her hands from his. “You are enjoying my discomfiture far too much to be a proper gentleman.”

  “I don’t think you agreed to marry me because I am a proper gentleman. You agreed because I am a pirate, who is willing to take his stolen booty when he can get it.” Bending swiftly, he scooped her up over his shoulder and spun her around in a circle.

  “Rob.” Laughing so hard she hurt, Georgie beat him lightly on his back. “Unhand me, pirate.”

  “Your wish is ever my command, my lady.” He stopped and carefully set her down. “Demand of me what you will.”

  “That I will do, this minute.” She smoothed out her skirts, though they would probably never be the same again, and held out her hand to him. “Come with me to tell the others.”