Pensenby didn’t turn his head, didn’t even move his eyes from their distant focus. His words were slow, stilted. ‘I knew from the first that there was something about George Robertson, something that wasn’t right, but I never took him for a woman. Indeed, I must confess, Captain, to having thought the worst…about yourself, sir.’ He looked at him then, with direct and bold eyes. ‘It’s a blessed relief to learn that my suspicions were wrong.’
‘Indeed, it is,’ said Nathaniel wryly.
‘I wanted to tell you that you need not worry over the matter. Lady Hawke’s reputation is quite safe. Most of the men will not have noticed, and I’ll ensure that those who did never speak of it.’ One bony hand extended. ‘You have my word, Captain.’
A firm handshake, and Pensenby was gone.
Darkness had closed in upon the sky before Nathaniel returned to his cabin. Everything lay just as he’d left it that morning. Charts neatly stacked in a tidy pile, the log book, his quills…But everything had changed in the hours since. He found his way to the thin wooden door that led to the night cabin and knocked.
The room within was dark, the lantern unlit, the only light spilling in from the adjacent cabin. He could see her slender form seated upon the small wooden chair, her head held upright, her shoulders squared. She rose in a graceful motion, her figure too far recessed in the darkness to see her features. There was silence and the trace of summer roses. One strong long-fingered hand snaked forward and, enclosing her wrist, gently pulled her forward. The faint edges of the warm yellow lantern light glowed upon her face, revealing eyes that were trained steadily on his own. Standing there within the darkness, he felt the fatigue wash over him, pulling at his muscles, dragging at his mind. He leaned down to rest his cheek on the top of her head, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her hair, as his arms wound around the softness of her body.
‘Georgiana,’ he whispered into the silence, and the word dripped heavy and tired.
He seemed so weary, exhausted with disappointment. She closed her eyes tight to stop the fall of the tears that welled too readily. Little wonder that he was so saddened when she had just unwittingly undone all of his hard work. His cheek was warm and light upon her hair, as if even now he sought to hold the full weight of the burden from her. She turned her face up to his, noting the dark play of shadows. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought only of the boy, nothing else.’
Still he said nothing, only holding her close, their two bodies merging as one within the amber flickering shaft.
And now that he was here, at last, she wanted to tell him that she would rather have ripped her heart from her breast than hurt him in any way, that yet again, through her own folly, some aspect of his life was at risk, that he deserved so much better—all the thoughts that had flooded through her head since that fateful moment. But those words would not come, tucked tight and deep inside. Instead, she found herself chattering on with all the indiscretion of Lady Tyler.
‘He’s only eight years old. Eight. Lived in Portsmouth all of his short life. His father was a man of the navy, died at sea six months since. Mother’s a widow. Fond of the gin. Six little sisters. Sam thought to follow in his father’s footsteps. That’s why he joined the navy, that and the fact that his mother couldn’t afford to feed him. God knows what will happen to all those little girls.’ She paused as if to ponder on the question. ‘When I saw him there, so pale and lifeless, I thought I couldn’t bear it. Such injustice. How did he come to fall overboard? What was he doing?’
Nathaniel’s deep voice rumbled low beside her ear. ‘Helping the men to clear ice from the lower rigging. It seems that his shoes slipped on the ice, and unfortunately the safety rope around his waist came loose.’
She shook her head slowly. ‘I didn’t think any further than to save him. That life would breathe again in his frail little body, and when Mr Belmont said he was alive, I rejoiced. That small dear face. I didn’t even notice that he’d called me George. Only saw his smile and was glad.’ Her hands crept up to grip the top of his arms. ‘Why should anyone take note of Sam’s words? He was cold and shocked. Surely no one will take that one slip of the tongue seriously? He’s just a child.’ Her stormy dark eyes were pleading, her fingers biting. But even as she said it she knew what she’d seen in the surgeon’s face, and Jack Grimly’s.
‘No one took Sam’s mistake seriously, Georgiana. But by saying what he did, he exposed that inconceivable thought for the merest fraction of a second, and that, I’m afraid, was long enough to do the damage. Any association between the image you present now and that of George Robertson would be enough to alert those who’d dealt closely with my servant. The suggestion alone was our undoing.’
‘Do they all know?’ She clung to him, felt his muscles tense beneath her hands.
His long fingers slid to her shoulders to where her skin was bare and cold. ‘It’s too early to say. Mr Belmont does, but he won’t speak of it. Of the others I’d guess Mr Anderson and Mr Fraser to have realised. Cyril Pensenby most definitely so. The men are an unknown entity. Only those close enough would actually have heard Sam’s words.’ He omitted to mention that gossip would soon inform those who had not. ‘But it seems that you have something of a champion in my second lieutenant.’
‘Lieutenant Pensenby?’
‘The very one. He means to silence the men and protect your reputation.’
‘Pensenby! I can hardly believe it.’ Her eyes opened wide and round. ‘But what of his uncle? Won’t he tell Admiral Stanley?’ She couldn’t bear to think what that would mean for Nathaniel.
‘No, Georgiana, I don’t believe he will.’
Even if Nathaniel was right, gossip had a way of reaching those that it should not. ‘Jack Grimly knows. He gave me such a strange look before he took Sam away. It was as if I’d betrayed him, which of course I did. I lied to him, to them all. It’s not something of which I’m proud.’ A shiver rippled down her spine.
Nathaniel wrapped his arms around her. ‘You’re cold, let me warm you.’
‘I’ve ruined you after all,’ she whispered so quietly that the words almost missed her husband’s hearing.
‘No, never that. Let’s just wait and see what emerges. Fate has a strange way of contriving the outcome she always intended. Don’t worry, Georgiana. You’re my wife now, and that’s enough to protect you.’ He kissed her forehead, smoothing the worry furrow with the sweep of his thumb.
Her eyes held his, as dark a blue as ever he’d seen them. ‘But what of Captain Hawke?’ she asked. ‘Is marriage enough to protect him?’
‘Of course.’ He swept her up into his arms, and laid her gently in the cot. And throughout the night, long and cold, he held her as if he would never let her go.
If Georgiana had thought the revelation to have earned the crew’s condemnation, she was to be pleasantly surprised. The following day she could sense no discernible difference in the men’s treatment of her but, even so, she was not foolish enough to indulge in the belief that they did not know. There were no whispers following in her wake, no utterances of George Robertson’s name in her hearing, no stares, no cat calls. Even when she braved the elements to appear upon the forecastle in her woefully inadequate plain blue dress and matching pelisse, the men did not stare, only nodded their usual greeting in her direction. Nathaniel, who had been scanning the horizon with his spyglass, chided her for her presence.
‘Georgiana, you’ll catch your death up here, go below at once. Even Mrs Howard has had the sense to stay within her cabin.’ A frown marred the strong angular face.
The weather was his excuse, of course. She knew that. Knew that he thought her appearance following yesterday’s revelations to be foolish in the extreme. But she had to see for herself the damage she had caused, and for that small task she would have walked quite willingly into the very jaws of hell. He was regarding her with an expression of displeasure, his dark brows brooding and low. A shiver stole through her. It seemed that an icy coldness had beset h
er since Sam’s unwitting utterance, and she could find no warmth to thaw it. Nathaniel might say that he did not blame her, but he was too honourable a man, too kind a man, to do such a thing. For, despite the words he shaped to comfort her, Georgiana was aware of the change within him. A wariness, a fatigue that had not been there before. The blame lay quite firmly with herself, she needed no other soul to tell her that. Her husband—the very words brought a sear to her heart—was right in his dictate to wait and see. It was quite naturally the sensible course to take. But the lack of action, amid the stretch of time ahead, wound Georgiana’s nerves taut as cheese wires around a block. Waiting was not an activity at which Miss Raithwaite had ever excelled. She was a woman used to striking while the iron was hot. It had always been her way, much to the irritation of her papa.
She did not speak, merely turned and retreated from his domain, walking briskly down towards the hatch that led to the gun deck, a new determination in her step. Georgiana Raithwaite had not been content to sit back and meekly accept her stepfather’s injustice. And neither would Georgiana Hawke. She loved Nathaniel, of that she was certain, and if she had gone to such ridiculous lengths in an attempt to thwart Walter Praxton, what more would she do to save the man that she loved? No matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice, Captain Hawke would not suffer the humiliation of a court martial, nor would he lose the Pallas, which he so loved. Georgiana would see to that.
Unaware of the burgeoning resolve within his wife’s breast, Nathaniel was navigating the ship through worsening weather, creeping ever closer to their destination. With two further injuries from accidents in the rigging, the stormy seas, dark skies and pressing time, Nathaniel worked hour after hour, intent on making it home safely in time for Christmas. The torrential rain and lashing winds had delayed their progress, and although they had made up a little time during the subsequent cold snap, he could be nothing less than vigilant to meet his goal. For despite the short duration of their trip his men were tired, wrung out by the ferocity of the weather. The capture of their prizes seemed a long distant thing, and Nathaniel was keen to press the prize agent so that the men received their payments promptly.
They were good men, loyal to the last. Hadn’t the incident with young Sam Wilson proven that? For all his denials to Georgiana, the matter did worry at him. It would be an impossible task to silence a whole crew, and the exact manner of their courtship would make interesting telling throughout the taverns on the cold winter nights ahead. Georgiana was his wife now. The damage had been limited. But that didn’t mean he was about to stand back and allow any aspersions to be cast her way. Come hell or high water, he would do what he could to protect her.
Chapter Eleven
It was late in the day when Georgiana finally found an opportunity to converse with Jack Grimly alone. The orlop deck was deserted and in shadowy darkness as she silently dogged his footsteps along to the tools store. The smell of stale dampness hung heavy in the air. Just as his fingers reached towards the storeroom door she spoke. ‘Mr Grimly, I wondered if you might spare me a few minutes of your time.’
His large body started and his head swung round in alacrity. ‘Bloody ‘ell! You nigh on gave me a right turn!’ Then, recovering himself, he added, ‘Beggin’ your pardon, Lady ‘awke, I’ve no wish to offend your ears with such language.’ Without waiting for a reply he moved to wrench the door open.
‘Mr Grimly.’
Jack’s hugely broad back presented itself. He made no sign as to having heard.
‘Jack!’ The word was like a sigh on Georgiana’s lips. ‘Please. Won’t you even listen to me?’
He turned and faced her then. ‘If the captain’s wife commands my attention, who am I to disobey?’ His gaze was cold and hard, his tone no better.
What right had she to feel aggrieved at the contempt in his eyes? She’d taken what he had offered in good faith and given back nothing but dishonesty. No wonder she now suffered under his condemnation. ‘Jack, I’m sorry that I lied to you. I’m sorry that I pretended to be someone that I wasn’t.’
‘Not ‘alf as sorry as I am.’
She forced herself to look him directly in the eye. ‘You trusted me and I betrayed you. I know that nothing can excuse such behaviour. I deserve your contempt in full, but Captain Hawke does not.’
Jack stood silent, waiting, a shadowed figure behind the flicker of his single lantern.
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to the task. ‘I have no excuses. All that I can offer is my trust in return for the trust that you once had in me.’
She saw the cynicism, heard the utterance, ‘Your trust?’
Refusing to give up, she stumbled on. ‘When we met on the mail coach, I was fleeing my home. It seemed safer, at the time, to dress myself as a boy. I thought it would attract less attention and let me reach my destination unhindered.’
‘Your destination?’ he mocked. ‘Running off with a lover, most like.’
‘No!’ Georgiana’s denial was swift and determined. ‘There was a lady who offered to help me …’ The sentence trailed off unfinished. ‘It doesn’t matter now. All that I’m trying to say is that I had no notion that I would end up aboard this ship. It was never my intention to involve you, or Captain Hawke, or anyone else for that matter, in my harebrained scheme. But…well…somehow it happened.’
Something of the frostiness thawed from Jack’s manner. ‘Not somehow. You ruddy well jumped on that Press Gang Officer’s back and tried to box his ears!’
‘Only because he was punching you while you lay on the ground!’ Her indignation was clear. ‘What did you expect me to do, just let the two of them half-kill you?’
‘Yes!’ he shouted back, then shook his head and gentled his voice. ‘It was bad enough when I thought it was a soft-brained lad who’d come to my rescue, never mind a slip of a girl!’
‘Well, I don’t see what difference it makes.’
Jack’s eyes rolled firmly up into his skull before reappearing. ‘You bleedin’ well wouldn’t!’
A rat scuttled by Georgiana’s foot, but she resolutely held her ground. ‘Regardless of that, once I found myself to be on the Pallas we had sailed and were out at sea. I couldn’t just suddenly say, “Please can you turn the ship around on account of my mistakenly being on board,” especially when I saw who was captaining her. There seemed nothing else for it but to keep up the pretence.’
Jack’s brow lowered suspiciously. ‘What do you mean, especially when you saw the captain?’
Georgiana sighed and looked down into the darkness surrounding Jack’s feet. ‘Captain Hawke was not unknown to me. He’d already saved me when I ju…fell into a river.’
‘God in heaven! What kind of lady are you? Running away from home, attacking officers of the Press Gang, nearly drowning?’
‘I know that it doesn’t sound good, but—’
‘That’s putting it mildly!’
‘Urgent situations call for urgent actions.’
He looked at her soberly. ‘Like the one where you shinned up the mast rather than ‘ave a bath?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply, then added, ‘I must admit that the sight of the cask bath being hauled up from the water was not a pleasant one.’
One bushy brown eyebrow raised. ‘No, ‘appen it wasn’t.’
‘My presence on board places Captain Hawke in a very difficult situation. He’s never acted as anything other than a gentleman. Indeed, he even married me to try and repair the damage I’ve caused.’ Her teeth gritted to prevent the waver in her voice. ‘Hate me if you must, Jack, but please spare Nathaniel. He’s paid enough because of my foolishness. Please don’t push the cost any higher. There’s nothing else that I can—’
One large hand moved to touch her arm. ‘Lady ‘awke—’ he began.
Her eyes glittered brightly in the candlelight. ‘My name is Georgiana, George to my friends.’
The silence stretched between them.
‘You’ve ‘ad a wasted journey.’
A soft chuckle sounded in the gloom. ‘Why would you think that I’d let anything ‘appen to Captain Hawke…or his wife? He’s a good captain and there ain’t too many of them around. Besides, Pensenby’s already spoken to them that ‘eard what young Sam said.’
Georgiana chewed at her lower lip. ‘Lieutenant Pensenby?’
‘He threatened to have us flogged around the fleet if we so much as made a whisper of it. Thought you’d know’d us better than that, George!’
The blue bonnet dipped low as the tears sprang to Georgiana’s eyes. She tried to speak, but the only words that sounded were, ‘Burly Jack Grimly, you are a very fine man!’ And she hurled herself at the big man to embrace him in a bear hug.
Jack patted her arm affectionately before gently disengaging himself. ‘Here, you’ll have me in trouble for manhandling the captain’s wife!’
Georgiana ignored his protests and, standing on her tiptoes, pulled his head lower to plant a small kiss on his roughened cheek. ‘Thank you, Jack.’
The big man blushed crimson. ‘Bleedin’ ‘ell, George, it’s the least I can do when I’m the bloody reason you got pressed in the first place!’
Laughter filled the air, before Georgiana hurried up two decks to slip unnoticed back into the captain’s cabin.
Walter Praxton sipped at his ale within the comfort of the inn, not even bothering to keep his eye on the window. Not that such an observation would have proved to be of much assistance in his plan, for the small glass panels were so steamed up that the dim light of day could scarcely penetrate the mist of condensation. Blakely would alert him as to when the Pallas came into the dockyard—that was, if he wanted the gold guineas that lay within the finely fashioned pockets of Praxton’s forest-green coat—and Walter knew that the little man would do anything that he asked as long as the price was high enough. As if summoned by the mere act of thinking about him, the weasel-faced Bob Blakely appeared.
Regency Debutantes Page 21
