by Jenna Jaxon
The thin morning sunlight streaking through a chink in the curtains onto her face made Georgie turn over, reach for Rob, and encounter an empty bed. That brought her upright in the rumpled sheets with a vague remembrance of him kissing her as he left for his own chamber at dawn.
“No need to shock Clara with my presence,” he’d whispered, “although I highly doubt she will remain ignorant of our tryst, given the state of the bedclothes.”
Georgie lay back down, smiling as she pulled the covers up to her chin. A sense of peace and well-being stole through her, until she moved her hips. The soreness between her legs was a small price to pay, however. Her body would get used to the new activity, just as it had done years before when she and Isaac were first married.
Isaac. “Oh, my love.” Although he had never been very far from her thoughts, somehow he’d been overshadowed by the new romance in her life. Given her very loving marriage and her almost inconsolable grief at Isaac’s death, she was puzzled now at how she had fallen in love with Rob so quickly. Agreed to marry him and shared her body most eagerly with him. Should she have thought about Isaac more or about whether he would want her to marry again?
Perhaps this was the way mourning was supposed to end, with a new beginning. She could remain a widow and true to Isaac’s memory for the rest of her days, but what would that accomplish? Isaac was dead, but she was not. He had loved her enough that she was certain he would prefer her married and happy—pray God with children—rather than lonely and miserable, pining for him all her days.
She’d never even considered what Isaac would have thought about her marrying Travers, but that was because Travers would never have touched her heart. That marriage would have been done for family reasons alone, and Isaac would have understood that as well, though he’d likely not have approved of it because it would not have brought her happiness.
“You should be happy for me and Rob, my love.” She spoke aloud to no one, although she knew quite well to whom she spoke. “He is a good man who loves me, not as you did, but still a true love. I can be happy with him and keep your memory close to my heart.”
The feeling of peace blanketed her once more, and she drifted off until Clara roused her some time later, bearing a tray with tea and toast.
“Here you are, my lady. You’re lying abed late, given the importance of the day.” The maid set the tray on the bed and opened the curtains. “I’d have thought you’d be up and already dressed, champing at the bit, so to speak, to be gone.”
“What time is it?” Georgie stretched, trying not to wince. “I hadn’t even looked. Besides, Lord St. Just decided not to leave until after breakfast. It’s surely not past eight already?”
“Nine and then some. Good thing your trunk is already aboard the ship. I’ll get your traveling gown out. We’ll have you washed and dressed in no time.” Casting a critical eye over the bed, Clara cut her gaze at her mistress. “Seems like you had a restless night. I’ve never seen your bed so mussed before.”
Georgie bit her lip. “As you say, it’s an important day, Clara. I tossed and turned most of the night thinking about this voyage.”
“Looks like you twisted yourself right out of your nightgown, my lady.” Clara stooped and retrieved the discarded garment from the floor.
Not knowing where to look, Georgie opted for the coverlet, seeing for herself how rumpled it appeared. “I must have gotten too warm and pulled it off during the night.”
“I suspect you may have had help with it as well. Which is exactly why you need me to chaperone you during this journey to Scotland. You don’t want to get yourself talked about, Lady Georgina.”
“There is no one here to see or hear anything to talk about.” Picking up the cup of tea, Georgie sipped it quickly. “Ugh, there’s no sugar in it.”
“It must have settled to the bottom. Give it a stir.” Clara folded the gown over her arm. “You know as well as I do that houses have eyes and ears galore. It’s when you think no one is around that everything gets noticed. Mark my words, if his lordship was here last night, someone knows it besides the two of you.”
Making that pronouncement, Clara opened the door to the dressing room, and Lulu shot out, running around the room barking and sniffing. Clara nodded at the excited animal. “If that one could talk, I’m sure she’d tell a fine tale about last evening.” Clara continued into the dressing room.
“Lulu, come.” Georgie patted the bed next to her, and the little dog clambered up the steps and onto the bed. “Good girl.” She lowered her voice. “You won’t betray us, will you?”
Lulu yipped once, then bared her teeth.
Rubbing the dog under her chin, Georgie sighed. “We really must find a way for you and Rob to come to an accord.”
A loud knocking at the door set Lulu off on another round of frantic barking. “Shhh, Lulu. Clara, see who is at the door, please.”
Before the maid could return from the dressing room, the door burst open.
Mindful of her total undress, Georgie dived beneath the covers just as Jemmy strode in.
Lulu leaped off the bed, barking shrilly until she reached Jemmy’s boots. She sniffed cautiously, then stopped baying.
“Good morning, brother,” Georgie called as he looked around the room. “So nice of you to call before I completed my toilette. I would rise, but I think we’d both be rather embarrassed.”
“You need to dress as soon as you can and present yourself downstairs, Georgie.” Jemmy’s curt command raised an alarm in her.
Heart in her throat, Georgie sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. “What has happened?”
He stared at her, his jaw clenched. “Father has arrived.”
* * *
The formal drawing room on the first floor had been the gathering place for all the family’s after-dinner assemblies since Georgie had arrived at St. Just. A pleasant room, decorated in warm tones of rustic reds and browns, it had been a favorite refuge for her each evening. Never, however, had she approached any chamber with more apprehension than now.
A sound like squawking geese met her before she could even push the door open. Jemmy and Father, of course, arguing so loudly she was surprised she hadn’t heard them in the upstairs corridor. Well, she was not afraid of Father, even now. She had a right to happiness, and, if that made her father unhappy, that was his choice. She would marry Rob, and that was all there was to it.
Pushing the door open silently, she entered unobserved to discover her father sitting in the high-backed chair usually reserved for Rob, as head of the household. That certainly boded ill, for her father would usurp every drop of power he could wrest from an opponent in any way he could. Jemmy stood in front of him, his face red, his hair sticking up as though he’d run his hand through it several times. To her brother’s left, Rob sat in the chair his mother usually took. Upon seeing her enter, he rose and met her near the doorway.
“Good morning, Lady Georgina. I trust you slept well?” Love shone brilliantly in his eyes. Fortunately, his back at that point was to her father.
“Good morning, Lord St. Just,” she replied in hushed tones. “I rested well, thank you.” Not as well as when he’d been in her bed. “I am sorry for bringing this whirlwind down upon your household. I had no idea my father intended to come here.”
“As well to have the final act play out now as later. As long as the outcome is our marriage, I care not if the ceremony occurs here or in Scotland or in the Antipodes.” He took her hand. “If I have to move heaven and earth, I will do it to make you mine.”
“Georgina.” Her father’s gruff voice rose above Jemmy’s.
With a last desperate glance at Rob, Georgie composed her face and walked sedately, step by step, until she stood in front of the man. Her father hadn’t changed an iota from the last time she’d seen him, almost a month ago. Not that she expected any change. He was the same stern monster from her childhood, ramrod straight and stricter than any moralist of the age. A man who gave no quarter,
who never changed his mind. “Yes, Father?”
“What the devil have you been playing at? Brack insists that you did not run away yet again, with this popinjay”—he waved his hand at Rob, who grinned and straightened his jacket—“but were instead kidnapped on your way home. If that is true, which I very much doubt, inform me immediately who the kidnapper was, and I will see that he is caught and punished to the full extent of the law.”
“Clara and I were indeed kidnapped on the post road at The Running Horse Inn in Leatherhead. They took us to Portsmouth, although I have no idea the reason why. Clara believed they wished to sell us as concubines to a sultan, but I tried to dissuade her from that.”
Her father blinked at that, but it took more than a startling statement to turn him from his purpose. “Stuff and nonsense.” The gruff tone held not a spark of sympathy for Georgie. “But who kidnapped you, Georgina? That is my question.”
“I repeat, I have no idea, Father. They were not forthcoming with answers when I made that inquiry.” Georgie tried to remember exactly what she had said to Odd Fellow in the clearing. “The odd-looking man who seemed to be the leader said he was working for his ‘master,’ but wouldn’t tell me a name. However, he did say the man had planned the kidnapping well in advance and that he specifically wanted to kidnap me.”
“And you believed him?”
“I had no reason not to. He was the one kidnapping me.”
Her father stared at her until she squirmed. He always made her feel guilty, even when she was telling the truth. “You then miraculously escaped and, in a city you did not know, conveniently ran into this man, your brother’s friend, who brought you here?”
Georgie shook her head. When stated baldly like that, it did sound farfetched. Yet it was all true. “That is the truth. I cannot change it because it sounds like a falsehood.”
“Georgina”—her father rose—“you will have your maid pack your things so you can accompany me back to Blackham Castle where you will marry Lord Travers as you should have done long ere this. Brack”—he swung around on Jemmy, glaring at him, though Jemmy stood his ground—“I do not know whether you had a hand in this nefarious plot, but I give you warning. Interfere with your sister’s marriage once more, and I will tie your affairs up so tight, you will not be able to take a breath without my overseeing it.”
“No, Father.” Trembling with rage, Georgie clenched her fists until her nails bit deeply into her palms.
“What did you say?” Father’s head had snapped back around toward her, his eyes blazing.
“I said ‘No,’ Father. I will not go back to Blackham with you, and I will not marry Lord Travers.” Time to show the man she had as much stubbornness in her as he had. She smiled at Rob and took his hand. “I intend to marry the man I love.”
“Have you run mad?” Her father’s thunderous frown might have frightened her another time, but, with Rob’s hand firmly in hers, she cared nothing for the man’s tempers.
“No, my lord.” Rob stepped forward, towering over her father. “She has not. I wish your permission to marry Lady Georgina.”
“Another lunatic.” Father glared at Rob. “My daughter is already betrothed, St. Just. I would think you had been informed of that.” He swung his attention to Georgie. “She signed a contract giving her consent to the marriage. I have it safe back at Blackham. So you will marry him, Georgina. Depend upon it.”
“Did you know, Lord Blackham, two nights ago, Lord Travers stole into my house and attempted to ravish your daughter while she slept?” The tendons on Rob’s neck were stretched so tight she could see the blood pulsing in his veins.
“Wouldn’t you wish to lay claim to what was yours if your betrothed had run away with another man? I wondered when Travers would finally show some backbone. So Travers is actually here. Even better.” Father smiled, and Georgie cringed. The sight of that mirthless grin always unnerved her. “We can have the wedding today.”
“What?” Mouth hanging open, Georgie could not comprehend what her father was suggesting. “We cannot possibly do that. The banns have not been read.”
“Yes, they have.” Maintaining his frightening smile, her father pulled on his black leather gloves. “I had them read in our parish as soon as you left for Buckinghamshire so you could be married as soon as you returned. I have the sworn testament in my papers here. Any clergyman worth his salt will accept it if backed by the word of the Marquess of Blackham.”
Recovering from the shock of that piece of news, Georgie steeled herself. She was made of stronger stuff than her father believed. “You may say what you will, Father, but the truth is this. I am above one and twenty years old, I am a widow, and I hereby revoke that contract you have put so much store in.” She leaned in toward him, staring into his eyes, unblinking. “If need be I shall tear it into a thousand pieces and burn it in front of Lord Travers, but I will not marry the man.”
To her horror, instead of flying into a rage, her father smiled again, and her stomach plummeted.
“I see that this whole affair has left you distraught, daughter.” He turned to Jemmy, eyebrows raised. “Brack, Lord St. Just, you have just witnessed an outburst that I scarcely could credit to my well-behaved, docile daughter a month ago.”
Georgie exchanged glances with Rob and Jemmy. Where was her father taking this line of reasoning?
“The stress of traveling to Buckinghamshire and that month of festivities must have strained her faculties. Thus this wild tale of kidnapping, her frivolous arguments, and now this dreadful outpouring of vitriol aimed at the man who has waited so patiently for her to keep her word to him.” Father shook his head. “If she does not return to her normal, obedient self, I fear that, as her closest kinsman living, I shall have to resort to drastic measures to assure myself she will not do injury to herself or anyone else. Unfortunately, the only such place in all of London equipped for such care is the hospital at Bedlam.” He patted Georgie’s shoulder, the glee of victory in his eyes. “Do not worry, my dear. It might only take three or four months for you to regain your senses there.”
Horror cascaded over her as though a bucket of the cold Channel water had been tossed at her. Bedlam! To even be threatened with incarceration in that, the most terrifying place in all of England, might send her into true madness. She stared into her father’s merciless eyes, and hope waned.
“Father, you cannot do this.” Jemmy darted forward as if to shield her from their father’s threat. “Georgie is as sane as you or me, and I will attest to it in any court in the land.”
Her father whirled around on his heir. “You will learn to speak when you are spoken to, puppy. Do not think, because I allowed your marriage against my better judgment, that I will allow your sister to rescind her word to Travers.”
“Not even when St. Just is ten times the man Travers is? He has far greater wealth and is, in fact, a marquess with higher precedence than the earl.” Her brother paused, as if considering well his next words. “In fact, I believe St. Just’s precedence is actually higher than yours.”
A hand on her arm startled Georgie, and she turned to Rob, who led her to a chair near the door. “Are you all right, my love?”
Staring helplessly at the red and brown Turkey carpet, Georgie wrung her hands, forcing herself to keep breathing. “He will do it, Rob. He will lock me away in that place until I agree to marry Travers.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “By that time I will likely not know the difference between one madhouse and the other.”
“I swear to you on my soul, I will not allow him to do this to you.” Though Rob’s voice was low, the conviction in it rang true. “If I have to kill Travers and bring his head on a pike to your father’s doorstep, I will do so before you set one foot over the threshold of that asylum.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t let you do that, my love.” She hung her head. Not even to save herself would she allow him to do something dishonorable. “They would hang you for such a deed. The man may be revolting, but he has
committed no offense that warrants death.”
“I’m not so certain about that. But perhaps there is another way.” Cautiously, Rob looked at Jemmy, still railing against his father. “Your things are already on board the Justine, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” She looked at Rob, a glimmer of hope stealing into her.
“The moment you marry your father loses all power over you.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Let us go then and get married.”
Thrilling as the words were, they were only words unless she and Rob could make them truth. “How? Father will stop us.”
“We wait for a distraction, then you slip out the door. I will wait a moment only, so it seems we did not leave together.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder, leaving her bereft for a moment, then she steadied herself. “Meet me at the kitchen larder, and we’ll be bound for Scotland with the morning tide.”
“What is the meaning of this audience?” The drawing room door flew open, and Lady St. Just strode in, carrying herself as though she were the queen. Every inch the queen of her castle, she marched toward Georgie’s father, eyes flashing with an unmitigated anger. “Why was I not informed of the Marquess of Blackham’s arrival?” She stopped directly in front of Father, who amazingly seemed to shrink back.
“Go, now.” Rob’s whisper broke the spell, and Georgie scurried out the door, dearly wishing to see this battle of wills, but not at the cost of her happiness or sanity. She sped down the corridor to the kitchen steps at the back of the house. The servants used this staircase, but she didn’t think they’d mind her presence here this once. Flying down the stairs, she made the final step, then turned a corner and almost ran into a maid carrying a coal scuttle.
“Oh, beg pardon, milady.” The girl bobbed a curtsy then hurried on her way.
Gasping for breath, Georgie jogged along the corridor until she arrived at the door Rob had showed her just yesterday, the larder behind which the smugglers’ tunnel lay. Now she must wait for Rob, for he hadn’t told her how to navigate the tunnel, and she did not want to get lost and forfeit their chance to slip through her father’s grasp.
