Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows' Club Book 4) Page 7

  “It’s still not opening, my lady.” Clara stared at her from the comfort of the captain’s chair. “Not until his lordship returns with the key.”

  A retort on the tip of her tongue, Georgie opened her mouth, then huffed a sigh and closed it. Much as she hated to admit it, her maid was correct. Georgie wasn’t going to get the dratted door open save with the key. She’d rattled the latch until it should have fallen to pieces. Then she’d pounded on the door, but apparently there was no longer anyone onboard. In desperation, she’d even tried to pry the nails out of the hinges with a knife she’d found, but to no avail. That door wasn’t budging. She had to give the marquess credit. The ship was very well built.

  “Then I’ll simply have to find another way out of this cabin and off this ship.” Georgie strode back to the porthole that looked out over the water and to the beach.

  This stretch of land and water had become so well-known to her, she could see it in detail if she closed her eyes. There were three gigantic casks sitting in the sand directly across from her. Holding brandy or rum, most likely. Not that they were labeled as such, but Georgie had always imagined casks that transported spirits would need to be huge. Beside them were two square boxes covered by a tan oilcloth. She’d no idea what might be in them. A young sailor sat on the sand next to the casks, his back propped against the boxes, his feet dangerously close to the water that lapped at the shore. Because the lad hadn’t moved since Georgie first spied him, perhaps an hour ago now, she assumed he must be asleep in the orange glow of the sun that was beginning to set. She certainly hoped the lad’s captain didn’t find him thus and pitch him into the cold water of the harbor.

  She forced her attention from the sleeping sailor back to the porthole itself, her final possible means of escape. The round glass pane opened out into the cool air. That, however, wasn’t the problem.

  “Do you think either of us could fit through this opening, Clara?”

  The maid eyed her from where she sat. “You might be able to shove Lulu through the likes of that. Though I don’t know what good that would do you.”

  Georgie sighed and shrugged. Still, it was their only hope. She stuck her head through the porthole and peered down. Drat. “Apparently, it wouldn’t do us any good even if we could squeeze through. There’s a drop of only about twenty feet but the water looks very icy.”

  Withdrawing from the opening, she crossed her arms over her chest and resumed pacing. “I’ve actually attempted something like this once before. Father had locked me and my brother in our rooms at Blackham. My room there had a sheer drop of about thirty feet, and the walls held no purchase, just pockmarked stone. Just as unforgiving as the smooth side of this ship.”

  “Did you manage to get out, my lady?” Clara cocked her head, apparently interested now.

  Georgie nodded. “Well, my brother did. We twisted the bedsheets from both our beds to make a rope, and Jemmy slid down it, stole a horse, and headed to London.” It had been most exciting. But of course, she hadn’t been the one dangling from a rope in a high wind. And wouldn’t be this time either. “Unfortunately, now there is only a single pair of sheets on the bed, and neither of us could slither through that porthole even if we stripped down to our chemises and covered ourselves in grease.”

  Clara blanched. “I should say not.”

  “And I couldn’t do it, even if I did fit, because I’d have to drop into the water, and, as I never learned to swim, I absolutely cannot do that.” Georgie clenched her teeth and made a growling sound that brought Lulu’s head up. Seeing no threat, Lulu settled down once more. “Drat Lord St. Just. Why couldn’t he simply have agreed to help us return to Blackham Castle, as any normal gentleman would have done? We’d be on our way home this instant.” She commenced pacing again, shaking her head at the jackanapes. “Do you know what this means, Clara? Do you?”

  The maid shook her head.

  “It means, if Lord St. Just takes us with him, he will quite likely confound any hope of my marrying Lord Travers.” Why couldn’t the man have let well enough alone and put them in a hired carriage hours ago?

  “I was thinking that very thing, my lady.” Clara looked away. “There’s nothing we can do about that, is there? There’s no way off this ship, I’m thinking.”

  “Not unless we can transform ourselves into the bodies of twelve-year-old girls who can swim in the next few minutes.” Georgie paced to her chair and plopped down in it. Disgust with their helpless state left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “I’m that sorry, my lady.”

  Waving away the well-meant sympathy, Georgie sighed and tried to think of something more encouraging. “Well, I must say I am not truly sorry I won’t be marrying Lord Travers.”

  Clara’s brows shot up.

  Laughing, Georgie relaxed and her spirits rose a tiny bit. “You know I am not fond of the man in any way and never have been. A more lewd gentleman I’ve never met. Even Lord Fernley had more to recommend him.”

  At her feet Lulu awoke and stretched, then sat looking up at Georgie hopefully, tail wagging.

  “All right, my girl. You may save the pitiful looks.” She lifted Lulu into her lap and stroked the soft fur. “What does concern me a great deal is how Father will take the news.” She slid her hand down Lulu’s glistening fur, rubbing her gently. Such attentions usually had a calming effect on both her and Lulu. “I quite fear he’ll disown me again. He said as much in December when he informed me of the match. And he swore that if he did cast me off again, it would be for good.”

  Gripping the chair arms, Clara leaned toward her. “What will you do, my lady?”

  Hugging Lulu, Georgie lay her head on the sweet dog. “I don’t know, honestly. I seriously doubt Isaac’s sister will accept me back into her household.” Not that Georgie wished to return to that dreadful situation. Her late husband’s sister had taken her parents and, reluctantly, Georgie, in after his death. The woman had made Georgie’s life a merry hell until her friend Charlotte had encouraged Georgie to stay with her. “And now that Charlotte, Fanny, and Elizabeth are all married and increasing, I don’t feel that I should impose on them.”

  “Surely your brother will take you in, my lady.” Clara’s hopeful tone smote Georgie’s heart.

  “I know he and Elizabeth will offer, but Father still controls my brother’s purse strings and will continue to do so until August, when Jemmy inherits from my mother’s settlement. Until then we must all walk on eggshells and hope Elizabeth will produce Jemmy’s heir. Then I doubt Father would deny him anything as they are naming the child after him.”

  “But it’s only January now. August is such a very long time away.” The dawning realization that she might soon be without employment turned Clara’s countenance glum.

  Georgie slumped in the chair and clutched Lulu tighter. “I know. If only I could marry—a gentleman who was not Lord Travers. But I have no means to go to London this Season and little hope of a gentleman’s taking me with no dowry.” She couldn’t do a lot of things, but there was one thing she could do. Taking Lulu’s face into her hands, she spoke earnestly to her beloved pet. “If that door opens, Lulu, and Lord St. Just appears, bite him.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes after Rob had sent his men to find the Blackham carriage, he stood peering at his pocket watch. The tide had already begun to turn. None of his men had reported back to him so far. The afternoon sun was sliding down the sky, sinking into the west at an alarming rate. The sailors knew if they didn’t return soon they would miss the evening tide and have to remain in the harbor until the next opportunity to sail presented itself, more than twelve hours later. And even if they managed to succeed in retrieving Lady Georgina’s trunks, her kidnappers would likely still be scouring the city and the harbor for the lady. Not a good time to be anchored just offshore and a prime target.

  It would also give Lady Georgina too much time to devise a way to escape the ship.

  Brack had related several of her exploits w
hen she was a girl still in the schoolroom. The most vivid of these tales involved her attempt to visit a tenant farmer’s wife who’d taken ill. When her father had forbidden the visit, lest the girl fall ill as well, Lady Georgina had found a truly unorthodox way of getting to the home. She had disguised herself as a groom and ridden on the back of a carriage heading in the general vicinity of the tenant’s house. Once near enough she’d jumped off the moving carriage and walked the rest of the way to tend to the ailing woman.

  Rob shook his head. The lady was as adventurous as any man of his acquaintance. Not a totally ladylike trait, but he for one wouldn’t hold that against her. If the lady hadn’t been so set against him, they might have had a lark of their own together.

  Discovering himself grinning like a fool, Rob cleared his throat, put on a more sober countenance, and turned back toward the street he’d sent Cartwright down. Lady Georgina’s penchant for adventures might yet bring them to grief.

  “My lord.”

  Rob whirled around to find Chapman sprinting toward him. Puffing like a winded horse, the sailor slid to a halt in front of him, narrowly missing a stack of crates.

  “I found it, my lord.” Chapman bent over, sucking in air by the lungful. “Three streets over, near the water, at The Ship’s Arms Tavern.”

  “Excellent work, Chapman. There’ll be an extra crown in your wages this quarter.” Rob clapped the man on his back. “You are sure it’s the Marquess of Blackham’s carriage?”

  “Yes, milord. Shiny black lacquer, gold trim, and a lion”—Chapman stood up, his arms raised, fingers splayed out like claws—“up on his hind legs, ready to fight.”

  Chuckling at the man’s amateur theatrics, Rob nodded and scanned the street., “We’ll wait for the others to return, then we’re off to The Ship’s Arms.”

  A few minutes and Barnes came into view.

  “What ho, Barnes.” Rob motioned the men toward him.

  “Didn’t find a thing, Captain.” Sounding disgusted, Barnes shifted uneasily on his feet.

  “But Chapman has. Just along there, at The Ship’s Arms Tavern, lies our prize. We just have to wait for the others—”

  “Captain!” Ayers and Cartwright popped around the corner together and jogged toward them. “Nothing down that way, Captain.” Ayers pointed back along the street they’d come from. “Cartwright and I met up at the ends of our streets. They came together at a point.”

  “But no carriage on either street, Captain.” Cartwright’s lips were pursed, his brows lowered.

  “Not to worry, Cartwright. Chapman found it at The Ship’s Arms Tavern.” He gazed at the excited faces surrounding him. “Are we ready then to take back her ladyship’s belongings?”

  “Aye, Captain.” Barnes straightened and nodded, his gaze fully on Rob.

  Ayers nodded too and grabbed a baling hook off a nearby bale of cotton. “Aye, Captain.”

  “That we are, my lord. What would you have us do?” Chapman still gulped air, but his resolute face didn’t waver.

  “Give me a moment.” Rob adjusted his hat, thinking furiously. “Let me see where it is. Chapman, you lead the way.” They all trotted briskly down the street. Rob had visited that particular tavern several times when he’d been in port. Unfortunately, now he needed a plan, preferably one that might actually work. How could he steal away Lady Georgina’s luggage without the kidnappers any the wiser? At least not until they’d set sail. It would do none of them any good if they were caught in the act and would be even worse if the kidnappers managed to follow them back to the ship—and Lady Georgina.

  “There it is, Captain.” Chapman pointed to a serviceable establishment across the street from them that teemed with custom.

  “Wait.” Rob stopped short and backed them up, taking them instead into a noisome alleyway across from the inn that stank of manure and molasses. From this vantage point he could better assess the situation. Slowly he stuck his head around the corner of a clapboard building.

  The shiny black carriage stood gleaming in the courtyard, its horses nowhere in sight. Why hadn’t it been moved to the stable area?

  “Why has the carriage been left unattended, but the horses have been taken inside?”

  “What do you mean, Captain?” Barnes cocked his head.

  “If a carriage comes into an inn and the passengers are staying the night, the horses are put in the stable and the carriage is put back behind it, to make way for other rigs. However, this carriage”—Rob gestured to the Marquess of Blackham’s equipage—“is sitting right there, for all to see. Why?”

  His men looked blankly at him.

  “Because it’s being used as bait.” Rob lowered his voice, though, by the surprised expressions, the others hadn’t thought of that. “Whoever kidnapped Lady Georgina is hoping she’ll send someone for her trunks, or even better, she’ll try to take them herself. So they’ve made it look easy. I assure you, it won’t be. We won’t be able to retrieve the carriage itself.” Not that he’d ever entertained that notion. “But the trunks are right there, just calling for someone to snatch them.” One sat in a compartment beneath the rear of the conveyance; the other was strapped to the rear where a groom usually rode. Though both trunks were small, there was no way to determine how heavy they were. Rob and his men would have to make the best of it.

  “It’s going to take some doing to get those trunks away, Captain. Might even run into some trouble.” Ayers ran his hand along the hook, as though itching to use it.

  “That we may, Ayers, but we won’t court it. Let it come to us.” Rob drew back around the corner and squatted down, his back to the planks of the building that faced the street. Although none were in evidence, he assumed there were guards watching that carriage very carefully. If he and his men were not to be found out, they must tread softly. Or better yet, create a diversion.

  Rob peered around the area, noting anything that could possibly be of use to him, when his gaze fell on a young lad, not more than twelve, dressed in serviceable clothing, though it had seen better days. The boy was sitting atop a barrel that had been left just adjacent to the inn yard, tying a square knot in a bit of rope, passing the time. Likely a cabin boy or had been. The lad could tie a decent knot; he’d give him that. The question was, could he do more than that.

  “We need a diversion.”

  Ayers raised his hook, but Rob hastily waved that away. “Not from you, Ayers.” He put his hand over the hook and pushed it away. “I’m going to create a commotion that will distract these hidden watchers, draw them into the ruse, and, while that is occupying their attention, you will all run in there, grab the trunks, and head back to the ship. First, I’m going to enlist the help of that young lad over there.” He loved it when plans fell seamlessly into place, and, if this did, he’d have bested whomever the kidnapper was and had a famous lark into the bargain. “Gather close, gentlemen. . . .”

  Several minutes later Rob rose, adjusted his coat and hat, and strode purposefully from around the corner of the building, which happened to be a warehouse. He wished for a walking stick to complete the ensemble of the gentleman he was impersonating, but what he had would have to do. Assuming his best lordly air, he strode between the barrels and boxes that littered the street as if inspecting his cargo, until he halted in front of the lad tying the knots, who’d progressed to the half hitch. Rob’s back was to the carriage and hopefully to its guards as well. “How’d you like to earn half a crown, lad?”

  The boy, who up close looked no more than ten years of age, stared at him, his china-blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You’d best move along, guv’na. I don’t take kindly to coves like you what wanna take a toss with lads like me. Neither does me da. He’s a carpenter on a big ship—the Nantucket she’s called—an he’ll plant you a facer for sure when he comes along.”

  Heat flushed Rob’s face as the gist of the lad’s accusation registered. Dear Lord, just the sort of diversion he didn’t need. “No, my lad, you misunderstood.” He took a d
eep breath and lowered his voice. “I’m rescuing a maiden in distress, and I need your help.”

  The boy glanced from one side of the yard to the other. “Don’t see no maiden.”

  “She’s not actually here.” The lad was a mite sharper than he looked. “Rather I’m rescuing her trunks for her, the ones on that black carriage there in the yard.”

  The boy peered around Rob, who shifted subtly so the guards wouldn’t see the boy’s interest. “My men need to rescue those trunks without anyone seeing them do it, so I need you to make a scene . . . like in a play. You’ve seen a play before?”

  “Oh, aye, in Drury Lane.” Bobbing his head fiercely, the lad looked interested in Rob’s request for the first time. “There was lots of talking at first, but in the end, the men fought with swords and died. I liked that part.”

  “Well, then, do you think you could do something like that? Something that will draw the attention of the men who are guarding that carriage away from it? That will allow my sailors to nip in and grab the lady’s trunks.”

  “I don’t see no men.” The suspicion was back in the boy’s face.

  “They’ve very cleverly hidden themselves, just out of sight. Likely in the inn. What do you say, lad?” The sun was quickly heading for the west. The tide was heading out to sea. He needed action, and he needed it now.

  The boy’s eyes brightened. “Are we going to fight with swords?”

  “Unfortunately, no. However, you are going to play the wonderful part of a thief. Do you think you can do that?”

  “A thief?” The doubt in his voice made Rob sigh with impatience.

  “You will need to be a good runner. Are you a good runner?” Rob pulled his purse from his jacket pocket and poured coins into his palm, then slid them into a pocket, leaving a half a crown in the leather pouch.