by Gaelen Foley
NINE
L ondon loomed before her, an eerie and alien new world shrouded in darkness and swirling fog.
As the frigate Andromeda sailed up the onyx River Thames, Georgie stood at the rails, staring at the city, a brown wool cloak wrapped tightly around her. The damp night’s deep gloom was punctuated by little glowing lights that sketched the shapes of hulking buildings, great bridges, church spires, innumerable ships in the distance. The streetlamps cast a hazy glow into the mist. Somewhere in the dark, a cathedral’s deep, bonging bells tolled the hour.
Two A.M.
She had spent Christmas at sea, and Easter, too, and now the new year, 1818, was well underway. The last time she had stood on dry land, she had fled a scene of terror. She closed her eyes against the still-vivid memory of the vicious battle at the Bombay docks, sickened by her unending questions every time they sliced through her mind. Were her brothers dead or alive? Had they survived their ordeal?
Now she was thousands of miles from home without a penny in her pocket and nothing but the clothes upon her back. She wasn’t even certain the authorities would let her come ashore, for she had no passport, no traveling papers to prove to the customs officers who she was. There hadn’t been time for such things. She had barely escaped with her life.
The Andromeda’s dear old captain had told her not to worry, that when they got upriver to the Knight Shipping warehouses, her cousin, Lord Jack, might be there, and he would deal with the harbor master. She gathered this was a polite way of saying that Jack would simply bribe the customs officers to make sure she was allowed into the country. Georgie didn’t doubt that he could do it—her cousin, the ruthless business tycoon, had a way of getting things done—but she had no reason to believe that Jack even was in England.
Fear continued whispering in her blood, reminding her that she knew no one in this city and that, in bluntest terms, she had nowhere to go. Her highborn cousins were her only hope, but she had never actually met them and had no idea where they lived. The city hugged the river bends for miles; she did not know how she would ever find them. But even if she did by some miracle locate Knight House, it would surely seem incredulous and rude in the extreme if she simply showed up on their doorstep in the middle of the night, claiming to be their long-lost cousin from India. They would probably call the constable!
Her anxiety climbed as she faced this foreign shore, all cloaked in darkness. Both sides of the river were crowded with buildings shoved together cheek by jowl, with an endless range of docks and markets. Shivering in the chilly northern climate, she clung to her courage as the boat glided onward, past a thronged pleasure garden on the south shore of the Thames.
Gaily colored lanterns illuminated gaudy pavilions filled with people having fun. Noisy, romping music played along with the chatty drone of hundreds of revelers. One of the sailors informed her the lively place was called Vauxhall. Despite the late hour, watermen were still ferrying people back and forth across the river to the pleasure grounds.
She borrowed the first mate’s spyglass and saw a fanciful display of topiary sculptures, and then a performance that made her shudder, it looked so dangerous: costumed performers illumined by limelights were juggling various objects as they walked across a tightrope high above the ground.
She handed the spyglass back to the first mate, unable to watch, for she was certain they would all fall down…just like her. To be sure, she had learned her lesson about taking too-great risks and showing off.
Farther up the river, they floated past Lambeth Palace, the home of the bishop. She even got to see Whitehall, where Parliament met. Ian had a seat in Parliament, she knew, the House of Lords. At the thought of him, her heart ached with her need to see him again. Was he safe? Had he made it out of Janpur alive?
It could be weeks before she’d know, but she had good reason to fear for his safety. If Queen Sujana had been so effective in sending her minions after her and her brothers, in how much more danger must Ian have been when they had been forced to leave him behind, all alone?
She could hardly bear to think about it, for in truth, her feelings toward the marquess had also undergone a change. For all those long, lonely months at sea, reliving the memory of every word they had exchanged and every kiss and touch they had stolen in the prayer cave, her admiration for him had deepened into something more insistent.
Unfortunately, after her recklessness at Janpur, she was quite sure Derek was right. Ian was never going to want her now. She might as well whistle down the moon.
How she wished he were here, she thought with an ache of longing. She felt so lost at the moment, and he always knew exactly what to say.
Upriver, a sprawling warehouse came into view with “Knight Shipping” painted in huge block letters on the side. Her heart sank as she noticed the offices above were pitch dark.
Nobody home.
It seemed she really was on her own in this strange country.
The frigate dropped anchor not far from the shore, striking sail in the middle of the river.
The harbor master in his riverboat shuttled up alongside the ship, and soon the Andromeda’s captain was engaged in answering queries about their cargo.
Before long, however, the captain left off their conversation and came clomping over to where Georgie still stood by the rails. “Would ye like to go ashore at once, Miss?”
What for? she thought glumly. What should I do? Wander the streets of London until dawn?
“Harbor master says you’ve already got permission,” the captain added with a twinkle in his eyes.
“What?” She turned to him. “How is that possible? Did you tell him I don’t have any papers?”
“Aye, and he says ’twas handled by a gentleman days ago in anticipation of your arrival.”
“A gentleman? Who?”
“Him, I reckon.” The captain hooked his thumb toward the sprawling warehouse shrouded in gloom.
She followed his glance in amazement. “Lord Jack?”
“No, Miss, the one that’s come to fetch you.”
She drew in her breath at these tidings and squinted into the inky darkness by the river’s edge. “Didn’t you get the man’s name?”
“Harbor master didn’t say. Just called him ‘His Lordship.’ Shall I send one of my men ahead to find out?”
“N-no, I’ll go at once!” Anything to get off this boat after so many months! A sudden notion took hold that the man waiting for her on shore might be her father. Derek had said he would be writing letters to Lord Arthur, telling him to meet them in London. Perhaps, somewhere out on the oceans, one of Jack’s ships had taken the message to her beloved father in time.
Yes, why shouldn’t it be Papa? She was quite convinced her father could do anything, and he had always been there for her whenever she needed him most.
If not he, then at the very least it must surely be one of her titled Knight cousins. She couldn’t figure out how any of her as-yet unknown kinsmen could have heard she was coming, but she did not intend to make a poor first impression by keeping them waiting. She scrambled to disembark. Hope at last!
“If it don’t smell right, you come right back, you hear?” the captain warned in a lower tone. “These docks is no place for a pretty young lady, especially at night.”
“I understand. Thank you so much, Captain. You’ve been most wonderfully kind and, believe me, I intend to make sure Lord Jack hears of how well you and your crew looked after me—”
“Ah, go on!” His rugged face cracked into a grin. “You run along, my lass. Good luck to you.” The old captain barked at his men to lower a boat to take her ashore, then trudged back to continue his business with the harbor master.
Before long, a few of the sailors were rowing her toward the docks, struggling against the strong current while she held on tightly to the edges of the skiff. She could hardly wait to find out if she would be greeted by a helpful stranger or someone she loved. The sailors thrust their oars into the oily current, angling the skiff closer t
o the docks.
When at last the bobbing boat was secured with two ropes slung around the mossy posts, the bosun’s mate helped her climb up the wooden ladder onto the pier. Lanterns fixed to the posts every few yards apart cast a dim glow over the damp-slicked planks. Georgie ventured forward, placing each step carefully, lest she slip and fall into the river. It had taken her weeks to gain her sea legs, but now her knees felt wobbly again coming onto dry land.
At that moment, a tall, cloaked figure emerged from the swirling mist at the head of the docks.
Her cautious steps faltered.
At first, she could only make out a black, massive silhouette—then a flash of red as he threw his ebony opera cape back over one shoulder, exposing the silk scarlet lining. As he came striding toward her from out of the raven shadows, his gait graceful, his green eyes fierce, the lanterns’ glow slid over the chiseled planes and angles of a familiar face.
Her jaw dropped; she stared at him in shock.
Ian!
But how—? She had left India ahead of him! She blinked hard. Was this an apparition?
“Georgiana!” he called sharply, the loud, terse tone of his voice very real. His driving stride to reach her was relentless.
Her heart lurched. A cry of amazed recognition tore from her lips; then she ran to him, forgetting her fears. Her mind briefly registered his brooding expression, but it did not slow her. His jaw was taut, his eyes as hard as polished green marble.
His grim stare traveled over her with a swift, assessing gaze as her footsteps pounded over the wooden planks, carrying her to him, and in the next second, Georgie flung herself into his open arms.
He caught her up in an embrace rough with emotion, holding her hard, as though he forgot his own strength. His hand cupped her head to his chest, his fingers tangling in her hair. “I’ve got you,” he murmured gruffly. “You’re safe now, darling. I’m here.”
She clutched him to her, unable to speak or barely to believe her senses, overwhelmed with shock and anguished joy. With welling tears of stormy emotion, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist.
She could feel his heart pounding beneath her cheek. Above her, Ian bent his head and pressed a few firm kisses to her brow with an air of almost desperate relief, comforting her, claiming her. Her mind was in a whirl. She had no idea how he could be standing here on this London dock, holding her, but as she clung to him, she scarcely dared question it.
He was alive. He was safe. He was in her arms, and that was all that mattered. She dug her fingers into his muscled back, holding onto him more tightly still. The bond between them came flooding back at once, the sense of it even stronger now after all they had gone through together, and after their long and painful separation.
Trembling it seemed with the violence of his feelings, Ian placed another soft kiss on her head and draped his cloak around her, letting the heat of his body warm her against the night’s chill.
After a moment or two, he moved back just a bit, capturing her face between his hands. He searched her eyes with a fierce stare full of stern intensity. “Are you all right?”
Georgie smiled at him through her tears. “Much better now.”
At her answer, Ian nodded slowly, his tense demeanor easing by a fraction, but she could no longer contain her joy at this most unexpected reunion.
“What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, clutching his lapels. “How can this be? How did you get here before me? I cannot believe you were here waiting, Ian! This is a miracle!”
He laughed softly and covered her hands with his own on his chest. “Ah, never mind all that. I have my ways.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each one in turn.
Georgie gazed at him in dreamy disbelief, then cupped his jaw against her palm. “Oh, Ian, I’ve been so frightened for you. I didn’t know if you were dead or alive! They came after you, too, didn’t they? Did they hurt you? Are you all right?”
“So sweet,” he whispered, shaking his head as he studied her. “Of course I’m all right. I’m always all right, Georgiana. You need never fear for me. Come. My carriage is waiting.”
“Honestly, Ian, how did you get here before me?” she persisted as he curved his arm around her shoulders and gently led her away from the Knight Shipping complex.
“Your ship stopped at so many ports for trade that we ended up passing you somehow,” he said. “I had wanted to join you at sea, but then we lost you again in a gale off the coast of Africa. Since that proved so unfruitful, I decided to press on ahead of you and get to England first so I could make suitable arrangements for you.”
“Really?” She was sure that his casual nod and smile belied what must have been a superhuman effort on his part, not to mention a great sum spent.
“Fortunately, Jack’s company has a reputation for keeping a reliable schedule of deliveries,” Ian continued. “I got hold of a list of arrivals and departures, set a servant to watch, and that’s how I knew when to expect you aboard the Andromeda. I only got in a few days ago, myself,” he added.
She stopped and turned to him in wonder. “You are so good!” Petting his chest with a small caress, she shook her head. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you. Not just for this—you saved our lives. Mine—first by Balaram’s funeral pyre—and then my brothers’, too, at Janpur.”
“Any of you would have done the same for me,” he replied in a husky tone.
She stared into his eyes. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened, Ian.”
“Nonsense.”
“Nonsense? I nearly got all of us killed!” she burst out; then the long pent-up words began tumbling from her lips. “Why couldn’t I listen to you? You told me not to meddle, but I went ahead and did it anyway—and the worst part is, I didn’t even stop to consider the possibility of failure, or how my getting caught in that room could have impacted the whole war. I’m such a fool, Ian, such a blind, headstrong fool! Sometimes I wonder how all of you put up with me. But I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart.” She faltered. “Do you think you can ever forgive me?”
He gazed at her for a long moment, tenderly.
“Georgiana,” he whispered her name, taking her firmly by her shoulders. “Listen to me.”
She searched his eyes anxiously, hanging on his every word.
His green eyes glimmered with fond amusement. “There is nothing to forgive. The truth is you saved the day. No, I mean it,” he insisted when she started to protest. “I had no other way of getting hold of that information, about the queen’s plot. You listened to your intuition and you knew something was wrong. You had the pluck to act on your instincts, and to me, that’s called courage.”
“You’re only being kind.”
“You saved the life of a king,” he reminded her. “Johar agreed to the terms of neutrality after you left.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Well done, Ian.”
“Yes, but if you had not uncovered the queen’s plot to assassinate him, that treaty would not have been worth the paper it was written on. What you did was rash,” he agreed, “but if you hadn’t done it, then Queen Sujana would have slain her husband after we left, ruled through her son, and joined forces with Baji Rao. And if that had happened, then Lord Hastings would have had a much larger and bloodier war on his hands. Instead, the conflict will be much more limited. With any luck, it should be over soon. So, you see, my dear, in the end, your disobedience helped save the lives of thousands.”
She gazed at him, not knowing what to say.
“You know, I lectured you when you arrived at Janpur—” He paused. “But if anything, I’m the one who owes you the apology.”
“What?”
“In the end, I couldn’t have done it without you. Frankly,” he said, “I daresay we made a rather smart team.”
As she held his stare, her heart lifted with amazement at his words.
“What is it?” he murmured.
She shook her head. “I was sure you would have despised me
by now for all the trouble I’ve been.”
“Of course not. But I will tell you one thing.” His expression turned fierce as he gripped her shoulders once more, leaning closer. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again! We were lucky it all turned out for the best this time, but I won’t stand for you ever putting yourself at risk like that again.”
Won’t stand for it? she thought, wondering why he was speaking so possessively.
“My God, when I saw you come running down that hallway with blood streaming down your neck—I don’t know how I kept my wits about me.” Ian paused, shaking his head at the memory of her brush with death. “How is it, anyway? The wound, I mean.”
“Long gone. See? Just a little scar.” Eager to assure him she was fine, she leaned her head to the side and showed it to him by the dim glow of the lanterns on his waiting carriage nearby.
He brushed her hair back gently and gazed at her neck, touching the healed cut with one black-gauntleted fingertip.
Ian’s heart pounded as he traced the inch-long line of her scar, entranced by the curve of her smooth white neck. Did she have any idea of her effect on him? he wondered.
Leaning closer to inspect the pale remainder of the wound that could have taken her away from him forever, he detected the scent of sea salt lingering in her night-dark hair, mingled with the alluring warmth of her own natural woman-smell. His breath caught with longing for her as her enticing scent stole over his senses. He breathed it in, instinctual hunger rising. His helpless desire for her came whispering back like a spice-laden breeze.
He had been stroking her neck with his fingertip, his glazed stare following the motion, but the lure was too overpowering. Unable to resist the impulse, he bent his head and caressed the pale slash with his lips.
She closed her eyes and dropped her head back, offering her neck. She breathed his name. Ian shuddered, wrapping one arm around her slim waist, the other hand gliding over her hair. He kissed her neck until she quivered in response and let out a soft moan.
“My lovely Georgiana.” He tried to stop himself, well aware that he was probably the only person in this city right now that she felt she could trust. The last thing she needed was her protector in this strange place making advances, taking advantage when she was most vulnerable. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t seem to stop. His hunger for her had only deepened over the months of their separation.
