Page 66 of Wedding the Widow

“They couldn’t marry today because of the funeral.”

“What funeral?” He stared wildly at her. Had his sister gone mad?

“Lord Robert. His brother died. So they had to wait. And so do you.” She waved a finger at him. “Just until dark. You must stick to the plan. If we had one more day before the wedding, we could just send to Charlotte, telling her to stop it, but of course, it could be intercepted.” Georgie frowned. “Father is so inconvenient.”

“You have a talent for understatement, bran face.” He tried to chuckle, but it hurt his throat. “What’s the current plan if not to leap out the window?”

“Twist your sheets and mine together and lower you out the window after dark this evening. Thank goodness, the light begins to go around three.” Shivering, she closed the window. “That only gives us a couple of hours. We must make haste.” She tugged at his arm, leading him back toward the secret passage. “Let’s start with your sheets, since you won’t be using them anymore after this.”

“Just how am I to get to London? The mail coach has already gone. I suppose I can overcome one of the grooms and steal a horse.” Jemmy lit the candle before entering the passageway once more.

“Or bribe them.” Georgie darted to her writing desk and produced her letterbox. “Charlotte’s letter contained yours and this.” She waved a sheaf of bills before his face. “Ten pounds. That will get you to London with change to spare,” she crowed gleefully.

“You do have the most delightful friends, Georgie.” He took the bills and shoved them into his pocket.

With a quick grin, she motioned him into the passageway once more. “Come on, chucklehead. We have work to do.”

* * *

Two hours later, as the light was beginning to fade, Jemmy flexed his aching hands. They’d been twisting and knotting sheets nonstop until his fingers were almost numb. In order to make the makeshift rope sturdy enough to hold him, they’d had to twist the sheets over and over, then knot them at intervals while still twisting. Trial and error had finally yielded an efficient method that allowed them to generate sheet-rope at a cracking pace—until they ran out of sheets.

Jemmy cursed as he opened the window once more and was met with a blast of air even chillier than when last he’d checked. Ignoring it, he made a quick survey of the garden below. No one stirring. Good so far. “All right, Georgie. I’m lowering it now.”

“Wait.” She rushed to the mantelpiece and grabbed a tall, brass candlestick. “It’s very windy. Tie this to the end to make it hang properly.”

“Genius.” After a moment of awkwardly tying the tail of the sheet-rope around the candlestick, he opened the window once more.

“Shouldn’t you wait until it’s properly dark?”

Daylight still shone brightly, though the castle’s shadow had lengthened considerably, covering the garden, and spreading across the lawn beyond.

“I can’t wait any longer, Georgie.” The fear he’d been holding at bay crept up to whisper that if he didn’t leave this instant, he’d arrive in London to meet Elizabeth coming out of the church on the arm of her new husband. His fists clenched of their own accord. He wasn’t about to let that come to pass.

“Is there a moon tonight?” Georgie peered out the window, where a ghost of the moon already hung low in the sky.

“I think there will be some moonlight at least. And once I get to the post road, it will be much easier going. I can follow that all the way to London.” He lowered the candlestick out the window, feeding it briskly over the sill. The wind banged it against the wall, and Jemmy winced. Pray God no one heard that below.

“Try not to make any noise. We don’t want the servants to come out and investigate. My room is directly above the kitchen.” Georgie danced on her toes, trying to peer around him as he continued to lower the rope.

He shot her a grin. “You sound as if we’re both going down this rope.” He stopped, a crazy notion seizing him. “Come with me, Georgie.”

“What?”

“Come with me to London.” He leaned against the rope to stop its descent. The wind had picked up, and the temperature seemed to have dropped. It was deucedly cold all of a sudden. “You could stay with Elizabeth in London and with us after we are married.”

She reached up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek. “That is very sweet, brother. But no.” Georgie shook her head and motioned him to continue lowering the sheets. “I cannot ride as well as you. I’d only slow you down, and if you didn’t get to her in time because of me, I’d want to kill myself.” A shudder shook her. “No, I will stay here and pray for your safe arrival. As soon as you can, send word to Charlotte, who will send to me.”

“But, Georgie.” Stricken, he stopped again. “What will Father do to you when he discovers I’m gone?” Damn, but he should have thought of that before now. Father had always been fiendish in his machinations, but rarely had he resorted to physical punishment, save Georgie’s “beating.” However, when he found out he’d been thwarted with Jemmy’s escape, would he take more drastic measures in revenge? Might he actually beat her?

“I don’t really want to think about that, but I have been.” She bit her lip but raised her chin. “It doesn’t matter. You have to go, and I have to stay. We’ll worry about it when it happens.”

“Georgie.” He couldn’t leave her here to face the tender mercies of Father’s wrath. “Then I’m not going.”

The set of her jaw as she planted her feet made granite look soft. She reared back to eye him with a coolness that did credit to their sire. “You are going to leave if I have to bash you over the head with the other candlestick and throw you out the window. I will be fine.”

“You can’t know that.” God, what was he to do?

“Yes, I do, because he won’t know I’ve helped you.” Pushing him aside, she continued feeding the sheets over the windowsill. “As soon as you’re down, I’ll pull the sheets back up, untwist them and put them back on your bed. I’ll smooth everything over, then come back through the passageway, do the same thing for my bed, and no one will be the wiser.”