Page 69 of Much Ado about a Widow

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.”