Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows' Club Book 4) Page 6

  “You are impertinent, my lord.” Lady Georgina’s cheeks were tinged with pink, making her whole countenance glow. She turned abruptly on her heel and stalked over to the stove. Holding her hands out to the warmth pouring off the cast iron, she rubbed and chaffed them. Still, she could not disguise that they were shaking. He doubted it was from the cold.

  “I may be at that.” With measured steps, he came to stand beside her and held his hands out to the blaze as well. “But I would like to know the answer all the same.”

  The petite woman—the top of her head scarcely reached his chest—glanced at her maid, who shrugged. That must have been the deciding vote because Lady Georgina brought her gaze back to him, pinning him with a heated glare. “Of course I do not wish to marry Lord Travers. He is without a doubt the most loathsome creature to whom I have ever been introduced, and that includes Lord Fernley, who is loathsome, but who does seem to have a few redeeming qualities. He plays whist very well. Anyway”—Lady Georgina shook her head and her straggling curls bobbed—“Lord Travers has made me uncomfortable ever since I met him.” She looked Rob squarely in the face. “That does not, however, mean that I will not marry him.”

  Hmm. A far cry from the answer he’d expected. Lady Georgina was not a predictable lady at all. “But if you have no affection for him, why marry him? Surely there are other gentlemen of the ton who are just as eligible and not as disagreeable as Travers.”

  “You know Lord Travers then, my lord?”

  “I do, although mostly by reputation. I do not run in the same circles as he.” Rob wouldn’t give a hot ha’penny for Travers’s usual companions. Not since the Hellfire Club had a more profligate group of gentlemen assembled. “I daresay he would not have been the choice most fathers would arrange for their daughters.”

  “My father is definitely not as most fathers are.” The lady bit her lips, then shrugged. “I have no idea why he chose Lord Travers as my favored suitor, but I do know how incensed he was when I instead married Mr. Kirkpatrick. Had my husband not died, my lord”—she paused and swallowed hard—“I should have been the happiest woman in all of England at this moment. Possibly in all the world. Because I would have had my dearest companion by my side. But when I married against Father’s wishes he cast me out of the family, withdrew all of my financial support, and even forbade all my brothers and sisters from so much as speaking to me on the street if I happened to pass them by. After my husband’s death, that decree remained until a month or so ago, when he suddenly sent for me and announced my betrothal to Lord Travers.” Lady Georgina dropped her hands and backed away. “If I refuse to marry him, my father will cast me off again, and for good this time.”

  “I am certain there are other gentlemen of good character and sufficient wealth who would gladly offer for your hand, my lady.” While perhaps of a rather unusual disposition, Lady Georgina was, nevertheless, a beautiful woman. Her auburn hair complemented her jade-green eyes and creamy white skin to perfection. Even the generous sprinkling of freckles across her nose only made her look more charming. And although she was of rather shorter stature than most women, she moved with an easy grace that would do credit to any gentleman wise enough to wed her.

  “Without a dowry or any monetary or landed gain whatsoever?” A sad smile tinged her lips. “Most gentlemen of the ton would not make such a foolhardy decision. Only a vicar’s son who held love above any other type of gain.” She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “If you told the ton gentlemen that their bride would bring nothing but the clothes she stood up in, one King Charles spaniel, and the animosity of the Marquess of Blackham, I do not think you would find them so disposed as to ask for my hand.”

  All Rob could do was bite his tongue to keep from shouting a resounding “no” at her. Every inch of him wanted to take her by the arms and shake her until she understood that she herself had value beyond any price her father might have set for her. “I think you would be surprised at the number of young gentlemen who would thumb their nose at your father and his money and beg for your hand.”

  She cocked her head, a smile turning up one side of her mouth in a most charming manner. “Are you perhaps one of those young gentlemen, my lord?”

  Rob’s jaw dropped, which made Lady Georgina dissolve into a fit of giggles. “No, of course not, my lady.” Was the woman serious or was she trying to make a cake of him? Or was she trying to entrap him into a declaration? He spoke the first words that came to mind. “I’d be in the suds if I ever mentioned such a scheme to your brother.”

  Lady Georgina sniffed, though the smile still played around her lips. “I was given to believe Jemmy thought very highly of you. I somehow doubt he would object to your suit. However, I am actually wondering now if he has concocted a plan to have you kidnap me to keep me from marrying Lord Travers.” Her smile turned to a glare. “It’s just the sort of harebrained scheme the two of you would come up with.”

  More and more perturbed at his friend’s sister, Rob drew himself up to his full six foot two. That often gave both men and women pause. What an opinion she must have of him to think him agreeable to kidnapping a young woman. “I assure you, madam, I have concocted no scheme with your brother. He wrote to me asking for an idea of how to prevent the wedding, but we have not put any such plan into action.” The words were scarcely out of his mouth when he thought better of them. Would Brack do something so dimwitted as to hire men to kidnap his sister to keep her from a man such as Travers? In a similar situation, Rob had to admit, he himself might be desperate enough to enact such a deed. So if he prevented the kidnapping, might he be thwarting his friend’s plans?

  “In that case, Lord St. Just, I insist you hire a carriage for myself, Clara, and Lulu so that we can continue our journey.” The lady nodded to her maid, who arose, gathering the dog’s leash. “I will take full responsibility for our welfare until we reach Blackham Castle. When we arrive I will make certain my father learns of your assistance and rewards you accordingly.”

  Rob clenched his jaw until that annoying tic in his left cheek began to jump. “I will require no such ‘reward,’ Lady Georgina. A gentleman of good repute does not seek reward for doing what is considered to be his duty as an honorable man.”

  Still, it struck him as unwise to send her onward to her father’s estate. It could very well lead her into danger or doom her to a disastrous marriage. And might indeed thwart the plans and wishes of the friend who’d been a steadfast part of his life for more than ten years. That reason, more than the others, gave him pause. If he unwittingly foiled Brack’s plans, he’d never forgive himself.

  Decision reached. Now to inform the damsel who didn’t even think she was in distress.

  “I fear I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to willingly march into danger, Lady Georgina. I have a duty to your brother to keep you safe until such time as he can advise me of his plans for your welfare.” Carefully, trying not to give away his actions, Rob backed toward the doorway. He wasn’t completely certain what the lady was capable of, but he’d wager that she’d try to bash him over the head with the poker if given the opportunity. Another step and he bumped into the cabin door. “Your brother wrote to me asking for my assistance; therefore I must render it.”

  “And I am telling you the only assistance I require is in continuing our journey to Blackham.” Her green eyes flashed like emeralds on fire.

  “On that point, my lady, I fear we must disagree. I will pen a brief note to Brack, informing him of the change in plan—”

  “Aha!” Lady Georgina stepped toward him, an accusing finger pointed at his chest. “I knew the two of you had concocted a plan.”

  “Your brother may have done. If so, I will take full responsibility for spoiling it.” He grinned at the outraged woman, her cheeks redder than a hot poker. “But I believe he will agree my idea is the better one, or at least safer under the circumstances. Because if your brother didn’t have you kidnapped, I would very much like to find out who did. Be
fore you fall into their hands again.”

  “My brother?” Lady Georgina stopped as if she’d walked into a wall, her face ashen. “You think Jemmy arranged to kidnap me?”

  “We’ll know when we receive a letter from him in a week or so.” Taking advantage of her shocked state, Rob turned the key in the lock then withdrew it, leaving the door ajar. “I’ll write to him this instant, tell him our plans to sail to Cornwall, and ask him to come fetch you, your maid, and your dog post haste.” With nimble feet, Rob slipped through the door and shut it with a bang just as Lady Georgina slammed her hand against the smooth teak panel.

  “Wretch! I give you my oath I will make you regret this.”

  Grinning ear to ear, Rob pocketed the key and headed down the passageway. Regret an adventure? Not likely. He’d not had anything exciting happen to him since he and Brack had returned from their Grand Tour. As he hurried to the other stateroom that he used as an office, his excitement built. This would be a lark to end all larks. He sat down at the desk, grabbed a pen and commenced shaving away bits of the quill in short, excited strokes.

  The grand scrape he and Brack had found themselves embroiled in when they’d visited Milan came to mind, and he laughed out loud. The old Italian gentleman had never known about the harmless dalliance with his daughter, thanks to Brack’s quick thinking and Rob’s own ability to look completely innocent no matter how guilty he might be. The memory of the exhilaration of pounding down the winding, cobbled streets of the city in the dark of night overtook him, and he could actually smell the damp streets, hear the slap, slap of their shoes hitting the pavement.

  Rob paused, allowing his eyes to close so he could see the bright, dark eyes of the pretty, black-haired signorina . . . who suddenly had auburn hair and green eyes. He jerked back to the present, confused as to how his memory could have shifted from the delightful Angelina to the prickly Lady Georgina Kirkpatrick. Two more different women could not be found in the wide world. Best attend to his real business. He raised the quill to begin the letter to Brack only to discover the nib now a tiny stub, the table littered with flecks of quill.

  Blowing out a breath, Rob retrieved another pen, carefully mended it, then drew the inkpot to him and pulled a sheet of foolscap from the drawer.

  My dear Brack,

  Rob stared at the words. How was he to phrase this vital message? Obviously he should first assure his friend of his sister’s well-being. He scribbled furiously for some minutes, then re-read it, muttering under his breath.

  Rather abrupt, but, dash it, there was no gradual way to relate such a thing. Besides, if Brack himself was behind the escapade, Rob should, out of decency, apologize for frustrating it.

  Another bout of hasty scratching as his pen flew over the paper, scarcely pausing to dip the nib in the inkpot. There. That should explain the reasons for his actions clearly enough.

  Mother would love having another woman’s company. She’d been so alone ever since Grandfather’s death two years ago. A companion, even for the week or so it would take Brack to make the journey, would do her good. Although . . .

  Blast. He couldn’t fit this last bit of advice above his signature, so he added a post script, then perused the missive once more.

  It would serve.

  Rob folded the short note and sealed it with a drop of wax. Lady Georgina had mentioned her brother was still in Buckinghamshire at Hunter’s Cross. He scribbled the direction, tossed the pen on the table, and bounded out of the room. Once on deck he called for Cartwright.

  “Aye, Captain?”

  “I take it Barnes, Ayers, and Chapman have returned with the required parts?” By the position of the sun, it was high time.

  “Aye. I fetched ’em back with the equipment not long ago. They’re stowing the parts away down below. Are we settin’ sail now, Captain?” Cartwright sounded eager for home. So was Rob.

  “Not quite yet.” Rob gazed at the harbor, the shadows shifting as the sun began her descent into the west. “Call the crew on deck. We’ve got one more thing to do before we sail. I need you to post this letter, quick as you can once we get ashore, then meet us on the beach just there.” He pointed to a large rock jutting out of the sand near The Ships Inn. “Be quick, so you don’t miss all the fun.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Cartwright tucked the letter into his jacket and headed toward the passageway calling, “Barnes, Ayers, Chapman. Look lively, lads. Captain needs you on deck.”

  Rob gazed at the shoreline, pinching his lip as he contemplated how in blue blazes he was going to find Lady Georgina’s carriage to retrieve her trunks. It had occurred to him, as soon as he decided to take her with him, that the woman would be more amenable to such a journey if she had her clothing and things with her. The rub was finding his way to her father’s carriage. He could ask her if she could give him a landmark, but he feared she would either say nothing or quite too much—and none of it helpful. He must think about it logically. There wasn’t much time if they were to make the evening tide.

  “Here we are, Captain.” Ayers, Barnes, and Chapman ran up from belowdecks, Cartwright bringing up the rear.

  “We’re never shoving off yet, are we, Captain?” Ayers, the helmsman, glanced over the railing at the water.

  “Not quite yet.” The crew was seasoned, holdovers from his father’s and, in the case of Barnes, his grandfather’s day as captain. Despite Rob’s relative youth, they respected him and responded well to his commands. “We’ve one more chore before we sail. We need to discover where Lady Georgina’s carriage is so that we may gather her trunks for the voyage.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain, but who is Lady Georgina?” Ayers and Chapman exchanged a quick glance.

  Rob had already thought about how to handle this without the risk of compromising the lady. God knew he was skating close to the edge with this one. “An old friend of my family who needs assistance. She’ll be accompanying us to St. Just to visit my mother.”

  “How did she lose her carriage, Captain?” Chapman’s frown was a portent of questions to come. Best give the exact truth and nothing more.

  “She didn’t lose it, but rather fled from it.” The puzzled faces before him made Rob hurry on. “The lady claims she was kidnapped by some ruffians bent on God knows what kind of mischief. Fortunately, she, her maid, and her dog managed to escape, and, by great good fortune, she found me, before they recaptured her.”

  “Kidnapped?” Ayers looked aghast.

  “Lord have mercy.” Chapman looked around, as if expecting the villains to appear. “Do you want us to help you capture the blackguards?”

  “No, Chapman, I don’t think—”

  “We’re with you, Captain.” Barnes cut him off. “They should be made to pay for doing such a terrible thing.” He smacked his fist into his hand.

  “Quiet, men. We do not have time to act as avengers for Lady Georgina. We can, however, cock a snook at her kidnappers by taking her trunks from underneath their very noses.”

  Wide grins spread across all their faces, Chapman elbowing Barnes in the ribs and laughing outright. “That would be a good ’un, Captain.”

  “Aye, we’re with you on that one, Captain.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Rob herded his men toward the railing beneath which the small boat was tied. “Once we reach the shore, Cartwright will post a letter from me to the lady’s brother, informing him of the circumstances and that she has decided to visit my mother in Cornwall. Now to the task of finding her carriage.”

  “But that carriage could be anywhere in Portsmouth, Captain.” That protest came from Barnes, likely thinking of the miles he’d have to walk.

  “That is why we are fortunate that I have a plan. Go on down with you.”

  The men swarmed down the ladder, and, when they had all settled in the boat, Rob cast off.” Chapman manned the oars to take them into shore.

  “Once Cartwright has returned from posting my letter, we will go to the spot where I met Lady Georgina. From t
hat point, we will each take a street and run the length of it looking for the carriage with the Blackham crest of a black lion rampant. If you find it, go back to the end of the street where you started and look for me. I’ll wait for each of you to report before we move on to another set of streets. Pay special attention to inns where the carriage may have stopped.”

  “The lady didn’t see the name of the inn?” Barnes’s shaggy eyebrows almost touched his nose.

  “She claims she was fleeing the kidnappers, Barnes. I daresay she was not interested in names, only in escaping. I cannot chastise the lady for not paying attention under such circumstances.” Rob shook his head, wondering if Lady Georgina had indeed noted a name or anything else helpful. He’d wager she had, despite her desperation to escape. Blast it, he should have at least tried to ask her.

  “Aye, Captain. Some women are quite scatterbrained even when they’re not being pursued.” Chapman gave a huge pull on the oars, and the boat grounded. “Believe me, my Betty is one of the worst. Never can tell me straight what she’s done all day.”

  Nodding and grumbling about the flighty nature of women, the crew climbed out of the boat and stood ready for him to command. If they couldn’t find Lord Blackham’s carriage and retrieve Lady Georgina’s things, it would likely be a miserable voyage for all concerned, as the lady would then have only the clothes she stood up in. But so be it. The tide would begin going out in an hour. If they didn’t find her belongings, Lady Georgina could wear sailcloth for all he cared.

  The tide waited for no woman—with clothes or without.

  Chapter Six

  Georgie’s half boots thumped loudly on the wooden flooring as she paced back and forth in the cabin, fuming. From the window to the door and back, in the past hour she’d likely worn a groove in the planks. Drat the man for imprisoning her in here. She rattled the door for the twentieth time since the marquess had sneaked out. Lord, the man was terribly stubborn.