This Earl of Mine

by Kate Bateman

  Then his lips were back on hers, and she matched the fierce tenderness of his kiss. Her chest ached with a sharp consciousness of how close she’d been to losing him, how fragile and precious life was. Tears threatened, but she choked them back, losing herself in the wildness of his kiss.

  It seemed forever before he pulled back, and for a few moments they just stood there, swaying together. She pressed her forehead against his sternum and closed her eyes, sinking into his sheltering strength and absorbing his solidity, his integrity. He was as big as Pieter, but the Dutchman had never held her this way, as if he could shelter her from the whole world.

  This man, her heart said.

  She lifted her head. “I thought you were supposed to be at the docks catching Johnstone?”

  “I was. Your cousin’s note arrived just as we were leaving.”

  Her heart gave a little skip; he’d chosen to come for her over catching his foe, for which she would be eternally grateful.

  A footfall outside made her jump, but Benedict merely smiled and released her. “Don’t worry. That’s Seb and Alex.”

  “They came too?”

  He nodded, and her amazement increased. The fact that two complete strangers had also abandoned their mission to come for her was humbling—although not entirely surprising. Benedict seemed to inspire ’til-death-do-us-part loyalty in almost everyone he encountered.

  He produced a knife and made quick work of the ties at her wrists, then knelt on the dusty floor to cut the rope at her ankles. Georgie quelled a brief wistful pang as she took in the sight of him kneeling before her as if he were proposing marriage. She shook her head. Foolish yearnings. He’d come to her rescue because he was a good and honorable man. He would have come for Juliet or Mama too.

  She glanced over at Josiah, who was still insensible on the floor. A trickle of blood marred the corner of his mouth and a livid purple bruise was already forming on his jaw. Served him right, the idiot.

  “What are we going to do with him?”

  Benedict sighed. “I don’t want to leave him here. What’s to stop him from trying something equally foolish again?”

  A sharp whistle of warning sounded outside, quickly followed by the clatter of horses and the unmistakable creak of a carriage. Georgie looked through the cracked windowpane as a black-and-yellow traveling chaise rocked to a stop outside. By the time she reached the cottage door, the steps had been let down. She gasped as Juliet leapt down and barreled into her arms, hugging her tightly around the neck like some fragrant-smelling octopus.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re all right!” Juliet sobbed. “When we heard Josiah had taken you, we were so worried.”

  Georgie disentangled herself from the embrace and eyed her sister suspiciously. “We? You mean Mother’s here too?”

  Juliet’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, no, I mean, well—”

  “Afternoon, Miss Caversteed,” Simeon said.

  Georgie suppressed a groan as the full implications of his presence sank in. “Please tell me you have Charlotte or Tilly in there with you?”

  Juliet bit her lip. “No, actually. If you must know, Simeon and I were about to leave for Gretna when Mr. Wylde arrived with your note.”

  “You were eloping? Oh, Juliet.”

  “Yes, well, we didn’t in the end, did we?’ Juliet said crossly. “Because I demanded to come after you instead. You’re welcome.”

  Georgie glanced back at Simeon and dropped her voice. “You might as well have eloped, Ju. Word of this is bound to get out. You’ll be ruined.”

  “I don’t care,” Juliet said mulishly. “I want to marry Simeon, and he wants to marry me. That’s all there is to it.” She glanced around. “Where is Cousin Josiah, anyway?”

  “Inside. Benedict put a bullet in his arm then knocked him a facer. He’s out cold.”

  “Good.”

  Simeon jumped down from the carriage—and stumbled over his own feet. He righted himself. “I’ll just go and see if I can help, shall I?”

  Juliet beamed at him. “Oh, yes, Simeon, that would be perfect.”

  Georgie sighed. “Well, at least you’ve solved one problem. Josiah sent his carriage away, and I assume Benedict rode here.” She gestured at the carriage. “We can put Josiah in there to get him back to London.”

  “You should dump him in the Thames,” Juliet said.

  “I have a better idea.”

  Chapter 36.

  The trip back to London was rather jolly. Georgie, Juliet, Simeon, and Josiah all squashed into the chaise.

  Josiah had been efficiently bound and gagged in the same way he’d bound Georgie, which gave her a great deal of satisfaction, and when he finally roused from his stupor, his furious attempts to free himself entertained everyone in the vehicle.

  Benedict and his two companions—Alexander Harland, whom she recognized from Lady Langton’s, and another equally handsome specimen he’d introduced as Sebastian Wolff—rode alongside. A flash of memory caught her; this must be the Mr. Wolff Benedict had told her to send his five hundred pounds to in Newgate. She studied the man’s olive skin and saturnine features. Juliet had whispered that he was the youngest son of the Duke of Winwick.

  Simeon produced a notebook and pencil from his jacket. “I do believe I should write a poem commemorating this great victory,” he said. “Iambic pentameter, do you think?”

  Georgie glanced out of the open window and caught Benedict’s eye as he rode parallel to the chaise. His comic expression of horror made her chuckle.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what Simeon would have done if Juliet had been kidnapped. He was far less physically intimidating than Benedict, but he clearly held strong feelings for her sister and love made people do extraordinary things. Perhaps he would have surprised them all.

  She stifled a little pang of jealousy at the adoring looks Simeon sent Juliet across the carriage, as if she were the air he breathed and the gravity that kept him anchored to the earth. She could imagine them as an old married couple, still exchanging such glances, even when their hands were gnarled and their eyes rheumy with age. If only Benedict looked at her with the same adoration.

  She glanced at him again, admiring his large hands guiding the horse and the strength of his muscled thighs, and a sudden intense recollection of what they’d done in the night came to her, of his body pressed over her, his mouth at her neck, her breasts. Heat scalded her cheek at her inappropriate thoughts.

  Benedict caught her eye with a knowing look, and she just knew he knew what she was thinking. His wicked glance promised a repeat of such pleasures the next time they were alone. Would there be a next time? She fervently hoped so.

  When they reached Hyde Park, Benedict’s companions bade their farewells. Georgie told a grumbling Simeon to get out and walk home, amid assurances to Juliet that she would put their case before Mother and lend her support to a proper, non-clandestine marriage. Instead of returning directly to Grosvenor Square, however, Georgie told the driver to convey them to Blackwall.

  The Lady Alice was still anchored by the quay—all three hundred majestic tons of her—and Georgie smiled as she stepped down onto the wharf, tottered up the gangplank, and hailed the captain. He snapped to attention and greeted her with polite surprise.

  “Miss Caversteed! We are honored. Is anything amiss?”

  “Afternoon, Captain Moore, and no, no, nothing is wrong. Are you still off to Boston at high tide, as scheduled?”

  “Aye. Everything’s stowed and ready.”

  “Excellent. In that case, I was wondering if you have room for one extra passenger?” She indicated Josiah, who had been unloaded from the carriage and stood on the dockside, wriggling furiously in Benedict’s grip. “You see there my cousin Josiah, who has found himself in somewhat, shall we say, uncomfortable circumstances here in London.”

  The captain noted Josiah’s gag, black eye, and bound hands, and shot her an amused, knowing look from under his bushy brows. “As you say, ma’am.”

&nb
sp; Georgie smiled. “Confronted with rather dismal prospects on this side of the Atlantic, I’m pleased to say that he’s taking my advice to start over in America.”

  “Righto,” the captain said. “I’m sure we can find room for one more. He won’t cause me no trouble, will he?”

  “Oh, no, but I would advise you not to undo his bindings until you’re a good way out from port. He may be rather reluctant at first, but I’m sure he’ll come around if you put him to work. He really ought to be made to pay for his passage, don’t you think?”

  The captain chuckled and gestured to the ship’s longboat, which carried a noisy assortment of livestock for the crossing—pens for sheep and pigs in the bottom, ducks and geese on a deck laid across the gunwales, and on top of all, crates of hens and chickens. “Very good, ma’am. He can make himself useful tending to the animals.”

  Georgie chuckled. “Perfect, Captain Moore. How long do you think it will take you to reach Boston harbor?”

  “As long as the weather holds, we should make excellent time. Nineteen to twenty days, I should think, now we have our new chronometer to chart the course. You can tell Mr. Harrison it works beautifully, ma’am.”

  “Oh, good. He’ll be so glad you think so.”

  She went to the rail and indicated for Benedict to escort her cousin aboard. Josiah glared at her over his gag and clearly tried to remonstrate, or perhaps beg forgiveness, but she was in no mood to listen.

  “Josiah, stop.” She fixed him with a baleful glare. “I have had quite enough of your foolish spite and jealousy. The only reason I am not having Mr. Wylde take you straight to Bow Street and charging you with unlawful kidnapping and the attempted murder of a peer”—she paused, to let the severity of that sink in—“is because it would reflect badly on the rest of the family.”

  Josiah’s eyes widened as he realized she was serious.

  “I have no desire to see you incarcerated in Newgate and hanged from Tyburn tree, but if I see your face on these shores again, I will not hesitate to press charges. Nod if you understand me.”

  Josiah’s head bobbed up and down.

  “Good. I am hoping that once you have been forced to make your own way in the world, you will appreciate the value of hard work and find a measure of the happiness that has eluded you here.”

  She nodded to Juliet, who passed her the reticule Benedict had filled. “Because I am not entirely heartless, I will not send you away with nothing but the clothes on your back.” She opened the drawstring and pulled out the diamond and emerald necklace. “This I will keep”—she glanced at Wylde—“because it has fond memories attached to it, but I give you the rest as a gesture of goodwill. There’s also fifty pounds in there.” She shot Benedict an accusing glance.

  Juliet gasped in outrage at her generosity, but Georgie ignored her. She handed the bag to the captain. “Captain Moore can keep these safe until you reach your destination. Goodbye, Josiah, and Godspeed. Captain Moore, I wish you fair winds and a calm sea.”

  The captain saluted and gestured for one of his crew to escort Josiah below. Georgie turned her back on her cousin and accepted Benedict’s arm down the wooden gangplank.

  “That was well done,” he murmured, as he helped her back into the carriage. Her heart glowed a little with pride.

  Juliet climbed in after her and collapsed on the opposite seat. “Well, that was far more than he deserved, I must say,” she huffed. “Now we must go home and face the wrath of Mother.” She sighed gloomily. “Do you suppose there’s even the slightest chance she won’t have found out about Simeon and myself?”

  “Not a chance,” Georgie said. “We’ll just have to make the best of it.” She turned to Benedict and suddenly found herself unable to speak. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she couldn’t form the words at all. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said finally.

  He sent her an easy smile. “Don’t mention it, milady. Rescuing damsels in distress is our specialty. All in a day’s work for a Bow Street runner, I assure you.” His hand covered hers where it rested on the door of the carriage, and he gave a brief, reassuring squeeze. “I have to catch up with Alex and Seb, but I’ll be in touch soon, I promise.”

  Georgie nodded as the carriage pulled away.

  Chapter 37.

  Juliet puffed out her cheeks as they clattered toward Grosvenor Square. “Well, I’m glad that’s over. Whatever was Josiah thinking, the nodcock?” She rearranged her skirts and sent Georgie an arch look. “And Mr. Wylde coming to your rescue was the most romantic thing possible, don’t you think?”

  Georgie grunted, and Juliet sent her a laughing, chiding frown.

  “Oh, don’t deny it! He put himself in harm’s way for you, Georgie, like a real chivalric knight!”

  “I am very grateful to Mr. Wylde for—”

  “Grateful? Pish! Why are you so afraid of admitting you’re in love with the man?”

  Georgie bit her lip. Was she afraid? Juliet wasn’t ashamed to declare her love for Simeon to all and sundry. She threw herself headfirst into it and trusted that all would be well. Such complete abandon could be admired in theory, but the thought of risking it all on one person still terrified her. It was the shipping equivalent of putting one’s most valuable cargo on a single ship and sending it straight out into a storm without a compass.

  It wasn’t unreasonable to want to protect herself from hurt, was it? Just look at how her own mother had been affected when their father had been taken from her. It had taken her years to be merry again. And yet Mother had often said that she’d rather have had those years with their father—even knowing the heartache that would follow—as opposed to a life spent without him.

  Georgie blinked as the blur of London rolled past the windows. Love, it seemed, was like Mr. Johnstone’s submarine—there were no half measures. You had to fully commit. To close the hatch, put your life in another’s hands, and trust you wouldn’t drown. It was easier said than done.

  Should she tell Benedict how she felt? What good could it do, when their arrangement was only temporary? He hadn’t asked for her to fall in love with him; he’d probably just feel guilty and awkward because he didn’t return the sentiment. What he felt for her was lust, not love.

  Their return to Grosvenor Square elicited the expected flurry of concerned scolding from their mother. Tilly the maid had been cajoled into telling all, and no sooner had Georgie and Juliet been ushered into the drawing room than Mother demanded to know what on earth had possessed them both. Georgie was reprimanded for abandoning Charlotte in the park and “disappearing heaven knows where.” She was given no chance to explain, however, before Juliet was subjected to Mother’s patented what-did-I-do-to-deserve-such-a-trial-for-a-daughter glare.

  “Eloping?” she wailed. “Why, Juliet? And with that penniless poet Pettigrew!”

  Georgie tried not to snort at the unintentionally amusing alliteration.

  Juliet firmed her jaw. “I love him, Mother. We make each other happy. I don’t want to marry anyone else.”

  Mother dabbed the corner of her eyes with her handkerchief. “But to be seen leaving with him in a carriage. Unaccompanied. In broad daylight! And then to return home unwed? Oh, the shame!”

  Georgie coughed to interrupt what promised to be a fit of dramatic sobbing and general palpitations. “If you’ll just listen for a moment, Mother, I can explain. Yes, Juliet and Simeon were planning to elope, but they abandoned their plans to come and help me. I was kidnapped from the park by Josiah.”

  Juliet threw her a grateful look. Mother clutched her handkerchief to her quivering bosom and gasped. “Kidnapped? Why on earth would Josiah do that?”

  “Because he’s gambled himself into a hole and thought the best way to get himself out of it was to demand all my jewelry in exchange for my safe release.”

  Mother gaped at her. “Why, that little weasel! I always knew he was a bad one. You didn’t oblige him, did you?”

  “I did not. Luckily, Benedict W
ylde intervened. He succeeded in subduing Josiah and returning my jewels to me.”

  Mother frowned. “Wylde rescued you?”

  Georgie pasted a bright smile on her face. “Yes. It was the most amazing coincidence. He just happened to be passing by.”

  Mother seemed to digest that. “Are you quite sure he wasn’t in on Josiah’s plan? It sounds awfully convenient. Perhaps they cooked the scheme up together so he could play the gallant rescuer and impress you.”

  “I can assure you it was nothing like that. Mr. Wylde has no love for Josiah. In fact, he helped me send him off to Boston with his tail between his legs.”

  “Boston? In Lincolnshire?” Mother echoed, bewildered. “What’s there to do in Boston?”

  “No, Boston in America,” Georgie clarified, with a satisfied grin. “Josiah threatened me and tried to shoot Mr. Wylde. So we took him to Blackwall and put him aboard the Lady Alice. He’ll make no more trouble for anyone.”

  Mother sat back in her chair. “America? You’ve dispatched your own cousin to America? Good heavens, Georgiana!”

  “He deserved it,” Juliet chimed in supportively. “And Mr. Wylde really was quite heroic.”

  Mother shot her a glare, apparently reminded of her indiscretion. “Well, even if Josiah can’t make any more trouble, it hardly matters, since you’ve brought scandal upon us all anyway.” She sighed dramatically. “Oh, Juliet. I had such high hopes for you. But if it’s truly this Pettigrew you want, then I suppose you’ll have to marry him now.”

  Juliet blinked at this sudden about-face. “I can marry Simeon?”

  Mother nodded. “I suppose so. I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed at his lack of title, but if you really love him, then that’s not such a bad thing. I married your father, after all, despite him not having a title, and I never regretted it for a moment. Just promise me you’ll appoint someone like Edmund Shaw to look after your assets. Mr. Pettigrew doesn’t seem particularly skilled when it comes to financial matters.”