Page 16 of Much Ado about a Widow

A retort on the tip of her tongue, Georgie opened her mouth, then huffed a sigh and closed it. Much as she hated to admit it, her maid was correct. Georgie wasn’t going to get the dratted door open save with the key. She’d rattled the latch until it should have fallen to pieces. Then she’d pounded on the door, but apparently there was no longer anyone onboard. In desperation, she’d even tried to pry the nails out of the hinges with a knife she’d found, but to no avail. That door wasn’t budging. She had to give the marquess credit. The ship was very well built.

“Then I’ll simply have to find another way out of this cabin and off this ship.” Georgie strode back to the porthole that looked out over the water and to the beach.

This stretch of land and water had become so well-known to her, she could see it in detail if she closed her eyes. There were three gigantic casks sitting in the sand directly across from her. Holding brandy or rum, most likely. Not that they were labeled as such, but Georgie had always imagined casks that transported spirits would need to be huge. Beside them were two square boxes covered by a tan oilcloth. She’d no idea what might be in them. A young sailor sat on the sand next to the casks, his back propped against the boxes, his feet dangerously close to the water that lapped at the shore. Because the lad hadn’t moved since Georgie first spied him, perhaps an hour ago now, she assumed he must be asleep in the orange glow of the sun that was beginning to set. She certainly hoped the lad’s captain didn’t find him thus and pitch him into the cold water of the harbor.

She forced her attention from the sleeping sailor back to the porthole itself, her final possible means of escape. The round glass pane opened out into the cool air. That, however, wasn’t the problem.

“Do you think either of us could fit through this opening, Clara?”

The maid eyed her from where she sat. “You might be able to shove Lulu through the likes of that. Though I don’t know what good that would do you.”

Georgie sighed and shrugged. Still, it was their only hope. She stuck her head through the porthole and peered down. Drat. “Apparently, it wouldn’t do us any good even if we could squeeze through. There’s a drop of only about twenty feet but the water looks very icy.”

Withdrawing from the opening, she crossed her arms over her chest and resumed pacing. “I’ve actually attempted something like this once before. Father had locked me and my brother in our rooms at Blackham. My room there had a sheer drop of about thirty feet, and the walls held no purchase, just pockmarked stone. Just as unforgiving as the smooth side of this ship.”

“Did you manage to get out, my lady?” Clara cocked her head, apparently interested now.

Georgie nodded. “Well, my brother did. We twisted the bedsheets from both our beds to make a rope, and Jemmy slid down it, stole a horse, and headed to London.” It had been most exciting. But of course, she hadn’t been the one dangling from a rope in a high wind. And wouldn’t be this time either. “Unfortunately, now there is only a single pair of sheets on the bed, and neither of us could slither through that porthole even if we stripped down to our chemises and covered ourselves in grease.”

Clara blanched. “I should say not.”

“And I couldn’t do it, even if I did fit, because I’d have to drop into the water, and, as I never learned to swim, I absolutely cannot do that.” Georgie clenched her teeth and made a growling sound that brought Lulu’s head up. Seeing no threat, Lulu settled down once more. “Drat Lord St. Just. Why couldn’t he simply have agreed to help us return to Blackham Castle, as any normal gentleman would have done? We’d be on our way home this instant.” She commenced pacing again, shaking her head at the jackanapes. “Do you know what this means, Clara? Do you?”

The maid shook her head.

“It means, if Lord St. Just takes us with him, he will quite likely confound any hope of my marrying Lord Travers.” Why couldn’t the man have let well enough alone and put them in a hired carriage hours ago?

“I was thinking that very thing, my lady.” Clara looked away. “There’s nothing we can do about that, is there? There’s no way off this ship, I’m thinking.”

“Not unless we can transform ourselves into the bodies of twelve-year-old girls who can swim in the next few minutes.” Georgie paced to her chair and plopped down in it. Disgust with their helpless state left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“I’m that sorry, my lady.”

Waving away the well-meant sympathy, Georgie sighed and tried to think of something more encouraging. “Well, I must say I am not truly sorry I won’t be marrying Lord Travers.”

Clara’s brows shot up.

Laughing, Georgie relaxed and her spirits rose a tiny bit. “You know I am not fond of the man in any way and never have been. A more lewd gentleman I’ve never met. Even Lord Fernley had more to recommend him.”

At her feet Lulu awoke and stretched, then sat looking up at Georgie hopefully, tail wagging.

“All right, my girl. You may save the pitiful looks.” She lifted Lulu into her lap and stroked the soft fur. “What does concern me a great deal is how Father will take the news.” She slid her hand down Lulu’s glistening fur, rubbing her gently. Such attentions usually had a calming effect on both her and Lulu. “I quite fear he’ll disown me again. He said as much in December when he informed me of the match. And he swore that if he did cast me off again, it would be for good.”

Gripping the chair arms, Clara leaned toward her. “What will you do, my lady?”

Hugging Lulu, Georgie lay her head on the sweet dog. “I don’t know, honestly. I seriously doubt Isaac’s sister will accept me back into her household.” Not that Georgie wished to return to that dreadful situation. Her late husband’s sister had taken her parents and, reluctantly, Georgie, in after his death. The woman had made Georgie’s life a merry hell until her friend Charlotte had encouraged Georgie to stay with her. “And now that Charlotte, Fanny, and Elizabeth are all married and increasing, I don’t feel that I should impose on them.”

“Surely your brother will take you in, my lady.” Clara’s hopeful tone smote Georgie’s heart.

“I know he and Elizabeth will offer, but Father still controls my brother’s purse strings and will continue to do so until August, when Jemmy inherits from my mother’s settlement. Until then we must all walk on eggshells and hope Elizabeth will produce Jemmy’s heir. Then I doubt Father would deny him anything as they are naming the child after him.”

“But it’s only January now. August is such a very long time away.” The dawning realization that she might soon be without employment turned Clara’s countenance glum.

Georgie slumped in the chair and clutched Lulu tighter. “I know. If only I could marry—a gentleman who was not Lord Travers. But I have no means to go to London this Season and little hope of a gentleman’s taking me with no dowry.” She couldn’t do a lot of things, but there was one thing she could do. Taking Lulu’s face into her hands, she spoke earnestly to her beloved pet. “If that door opens, Lulu, and Lord St. Just appears, bite him.”

* * *

Twenty minutes after Rob had sent his men to find the Blackham carriage, he stood peering at his pocket watch. The tide had already begun to turn. None of his men had reported back to him so far. The afternoon sun was sliding down the sky, sinking into the west at an alarming rate. The sailors knew if they didn’t return soon they would miss the evening tide and have to remain in the harbor until the next opportunity to sail presented itself, more than twelve hours later. And even if they managed to succeed in retrieving Lady Georgina’s trunks, her kidnappers would likely still be scouring the city and the harbor for the lady. Not a good time to be anchored just offshore and a prime target.