Page 6 of Miss Wylde and the Wynd

She momentarily considered simply telling him the truth, but anticipated that he would ignore her concerns, as men often did, and put her on a ship home since the male population of any country always believed that they knew better than a female. And even though this was the first time she had left her home village, Georgiana had encountered enough sailors, captains and students of art and architecture to know that the same sentiment was shared by all—that a woman should allow men to take care of all matters while women waited at home stitching or some other nonsense.

He may even consider her plight a fool’s errand, but Georgiana would not give in to such a finality until she knew for certain.

Seagulls cried out, bells from ships rang and shouting by men along the docks grew louder the closer they came to the water until he stopped before a building, opened the door, then marched up wooden stairs.

Only then did her heart beat harder in alarm. He had overpowered her, and could do so again, and he was taking her…what if it wasn’t an office? What if he was dangerous?

Why hadn’t she fought harder to get away?

At the top of the stairs, he paused and she glanced down, noting that her escape route was easy, if she was given the opportunity.

He then turned left and opened a door, strode inside, kicked it behind him, bent and deposited her into a chair.

Georgiana gasped with indignation but was also relieved to note that she was before a large desk of cherry wood, documents and ledgers scattered across the surface and the row of open windows behind looked out over the harbor. However, that was not what she found the most interesting or odd.

Why was a child, barely tall enough to see over the stack of ledgers, seated behind the desk?

Did this man have a daughter? If so, why wasn’t she with her mother or a governess?

“What is your name?” he demanded.

“Georgie…George.” It was not a lie because Georgie was the nickname she’d lived with for as long as she could remember.

“What is your real name?”

Did she dare tell him the truth?

“It could be Georgette, Georgina, Georgiana…”

How could this child tell that she was female? Nobody had guessed it before.

Except, she had lost her hat when this man had tossed her over his shoulder, freeing her braids. No doubt the hat was either in the street where she’d been taken from or someone else had already claimed it as their own.

She let out a sigh and set her valise on the floor beside her chair.

“But I like Georgie. We shall call her that.”

Georgiana gaped at the child. She was not a stray kitten or puppy to be taken home as a pet.

“Why were you on the earl’s ship?” she then demanded.

“Livia…” the man who hauled Georgie up the stairs warned.

“Is she a pirate, Uncle Damian? Or a French Spy? Will you make her walk the plank?”

Uncle, not a father. Not that it mattered.

“Quit reading about pirates and we no longer need to worry about French spies.”

Livia narrowed her eyes. “Napoleon escaped once. He could do so again.”

“Livia, enough,” this Damian ordered as he settled on the edge of the desk facing Georgie, arms crossed over his wide chest. “Now Georgie tell me who you are and why you were on one of my ships.”

He was even more intimidating now than when he was standing over her in the alley and all Georgie could do was stare up at him—afraid to speak. Strength and power exuded from him, muscular without any excess about his waist or anywhere else. Her mouth went dry, which she was certain was from fear.

His ice-blue eyes sent a chill up her spine, as did the set of his mouth, firm and without humor. He may be incredibly handsome, but he had the power to ruin everything.

What was he going to do with her when he did have his answers?