Tuck was boxed in between them.
“Is the gun necessary?” he asked Georgie. “If we could just have a reasonable conversation about this Scotland idea—thatyouboth came up with, I might add.”
“This is a dueling pistol.” Georgie turned the weapon over in her hands; it had a smooth wood handle—walnut, maybe—a dark steel barrel, and intricate silver touches. “It belonged to my father.”
“Used once. In a matter of honor,” Jane said.
“You aren’t from this time,” Georgie said. “We wanted to impress upon you a few things.”
“If you change your mind, and leave Lizzy without marriage, she will be ruined.” Jane’s tone was matter-of-fact. “It signifies a loss of respectability, social standing, and, for a young woman, the total collapse of other suitable marriage prospects. And it won’t only affect her. It will affect her parents, her brother, his future wife, their future children.”
“Who, to be sure, we don’t give much care for,” Georgie added. “But Lizzy does.”
“And what Lizzy cares about, we care about.”
“No cold feet,” Tuck said. “I give you my word. I won’t leave Lizzy.”
“And if you do? I imagine you won’t be hard to find. You will make any number of mistakes. People will talk,” Jane said.
“I’ll defend my family’s honor.” Georgie’s fingers tightened on the gun.
“And I’ll bury your body in a grave no one will ever find.”Jane’s sweet, soft voice belied the threat. “Once my good opinion is lost, it is lost forevermore.”
And Tuck had the impression they were absolutely serious.
But so was he.
“I’m not going to leave her. I promise. I swear it on my life. Is that good enough for you?”
“Not quite. Swear on the life of someone who matters to you,” Jane said firmly. “We aren’t more than acquaintances. I know you enjoy a good boiled potato. I’m rather less certain how much you value your own life.”
His temper began to rise. He understood them wanting to make sure he wasn’t going to be an asshole, but they shouldn’t assume too much. “You don’t know what I’ve done to stay alive. And I swear it on my sister Nora’s life. I won’t leave Lizzy. We made a deal. We need each other. I need to figure out how to get home. And, well, she needs me dead. But...” He pointed to the dueling pistol. “Not for real.”
Georgie locked her gaze with his. “Very well. I trust you, Mr.Taylor.”
“And I also place my faith in you,” Jane declared. “But I must warn you, sir, if you prove false—”
“You shall find yourself in the Great Beyond,” Georgie concluded with a serious tone. “And I dare say, you will find it quite impossible to return home from there.”
Damn, these ladies were hardcore. But he kinda respected it.
“Once you’ve completed your task, make haste to London,” Georgie instructed. “In the meantime, we’ll research the history of the pond and other lore in the region. Perhaps we’ll uncover some valuable insights.”
“Very well.” Jane set the shovel against the barn wall. “Since we aren’t consigning you to the grave today, Mr. Taylor, I findmyself quite eager to return to my book. My hero is about to make a mess out of everything by declaring his love for my heroine.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is when he is still obtuse about women. Are you obtuse about women, Mr.Taylor?”
“I think the women around me would be best equipped to answer that question.”
Georgie barked out a laugh. “I don’t often have a high opinion of your sex. But you might surprise us all.”
Chapter Ten
The Two-Necked Goose was a stagecoach inn in Salisbury nestled beneath the shadow of the towering cathedral. The narrow cobblestone lanes resonated with the clip-clop of horse hooves, while gilded signboards swung in the breeze, enticing passersby with promises of fine silks, bespoke millinery, and rare curiosities. Lizzy hadn’t missed London since departing for Hallow’s Gate, although the display of ribbons and fabrics in the fashionable hues of the season at the mercer’s emporium and the scent of linseed oil and pigment wafting from the open door of the printing press made it undeniably pleasant to be in the bustle of a town again.
The inn was a hive of activity, filled with a brisk utilitarian ambiance devoid of any debauchery. No dubious characters hunched around tables twirling whiskers or plotting nefarious schemes as Lizzy had fretted about before drifting off to sleep last night. Instead, travelers bustled about dragging trunks, anticipating the arriving stagecoaches. Lizzy reached into a concealed pocket in her dress and pulled out a golden watch, once Cousin Neddy’s prized possession and now a treasured gift from Georgie.
