The waves had started to pick up speed, a sign they were moving into open water and a warning of bad weather. The lugger seemed to skim along the way.
Beckett went to the rudder and tried to steady the boat. They lurched to one side, then to another.
“Do you know what you are doing?” Gwendolyn asked. She untied her legs.
“No,” came the reply.
“Here, I can sail,” she said, and started to move toward the stern of the boat. The sensation of a thousand needles pierced her muscles.
“Be careful,” he advised her. “Take your time to ease your muscles.”
“Keep the rudder steady,” she advised back. Eventually she came to a shaky stand. Placing her hand on the lugger’s rigging, she followed it sternward to the rudder.
Watching the wind in the sail, she slowly turned them in the direction of where she thought the shore was. The moon had disappeared behind the clouds. There were no stars. “We’re free,” she said, a bit surprised.
“For now.” He sat beside her. “How do you know how to sail?”
“My sisters and I had a small sailboat back in Wicklow. Sailing on a lake is different than on open water.” The latter took more strength. “I’ve never sailed at night.” She looked to him. “Do we know where we are?”
“Were you awake when they drove us here?”
“I was.”
“How long do you believe we traveled?”
“An hour, maybe more. It seemed forever.”
He expelled a heavy sigh. “Let the wind take us,” he advised. “We will sort it out.”
Beckett sounded confident. Bold, even... and he gave her courage. They would manage.
“Show me how to do this,” he said, referring to the mechanics of sailing.
“It isn’t difficult.” She explained the basics of keeping the wind in the sail.
He placed his hand over hers. “Let me try it.”
She did. The danger that they had been in was just beginning to seep in, leaving her strangely lethargic body feeling disconnected from her head, and cold. “Why?” she asked at last.
Beckett didn’t misunderstand what she meant. “Lady Middlebury wishes us gone.”
“But not dead? Did you hear the coachmen say that we were to be kept alive?”
“I did, and that is the true mystery.”
“Well, I’m actually thankful she didn’t wish us murdered. But why did they plan to take the coach north?” Her teeth chattered slightly on her question. Her damp skirts didn’t help keep her warm.
Beckett noticed and moved so that he was on the same side of the rudder as she was. He took off his jacket. The sleeves were torn at the shoulder seams. He put the garment around her.
And then he put his arm around her.
She burrowed into the haven of his body. He felt safe, secure, and warm. She tried to wrap part of the jacket around him.
“Perhaps Lady Middlebury realizes I am the true marquess,” he said. “And she doesn’t wish to have my death on her hands?” He shook his head. “What puzzles me is how she knew my true identity. Who gave me away?”
“Lady Orpington?”
“I find it hard to believe. I’m a good judge of character. I thought her trustworthy.”
