Page 65 of Wedding the Widow

“Jemmy, oh, I am so sorry.” Her face had blanched whiter than snow as she held out a folded piece of paper. “The afternoon post just arrived. Charlotte sent it in a letter to me.”

He snatched it from her hand. “It’s not opened. How do you know—”

“Charlotte’s letter.” Tears leaked from Georgie’s eyes. “Elizabeth . . . Elizabeth’s . . .”

“What?” His heart turned to ice.

“She’s marrying a friend of her father’s to give your child a name.”

Like a physical blow, the words took the breath away from him, rendering him dumb. He stared at Georgie as she continued to talk but could hear nothing she said. Elizabeth to marry someone else? Why in God’s name would she do such a thing so quickly? They’d parted not quite a week ago, convinced they would find a way to wed. He caught his breath, and Georgie’s voice penetrated his shocked senses.

“. . . only thing that could have happened. I never dreamed Charlotte would tell her that.”

“Tell who what?” Staring at the folded square in his hand, dread filled him once more.

“That you were locked up and Father wouldn’t let you go until you married Lady Maude.”

Georgie wrung her hands and sniffed. “I was only trying to make sure, if someone opened my letter, that they’d be reassured we were cowed by Father’s order and not trying to escape. I never imagined Charlotte might tell Elizabeth that, but, of course, she would believe Elizabeth needed to know. I knew it was false, so I guess I thought she’d know it was false too, although I don’t know why she would think that.” Georgie stopped and looked at his letter. “Aren’t you going to read it?”

Shaking his head to clear it, Jemmy carefully unfolded the little square of paper. The dear handwriting—elegant loops swirling across the page—was tragically brief and spotted with watermarks where, it seemed, tears had dropped.

Dearest Jemmy,

Charlotte has informed me of your change in circumstances. I am bitterly heartbroken at the news of your betrothal to Lady Maude as well as your detention at Blackham Castle. If your father will have his way, with total disregard for our lives and feelings, then we must bow to the inevitable, much as it breaks my heart to do so.

By God, when this was over, he would beg Elizabeth on bended knee never to send him another letter as long as he lived. The ones she had sent him so far had borne nothing save bad news.

I hereby release you from your promise and pray you will do the same for me. My parents insist I marry to keep scandal from our door, else I would never betray my love and trust in you.

Farewell, my love.

Elizabeth

“I have to go.” Jemmy flung the letter to the floor, brushed past Georgie and into the secret passageway. He bumped into beams and stumbled over the clutter of plaster and lathing that littered the floor. Cursing himself for not grabbing Georgie’s candle, he pressed forward toward the light from Georgie’s room where she had left her panel ajar.

He shoved that panel aside and strode directly to the window. The drop from the second floor looked as daunting as ever, but he’d attempt it or die trying. No way in hell would he allow Elizabeth to marry someone else.

After pushing up the window, he peered down to check for activity below, then leaned out, assessing the height and possible softness of the ground. A cold breeze ruffled his hair as he estimated the drop. At least twenty-five feet, maybe thirty. Perspective could be devilishly deceptive. High enough to break his neck in any case. Or any other bone in his body, for that matter. The rough black stone that composed the castle wall was sheer, nothing even to grab hold of.

“What are you doing?”

A hand on his collar jerked him back, causing him to hit his head on the window frame and making the old glass chatter.

“Have you gone totally daft, jingle-brains?” Georgie scowled at him as he rubbed his head. That had smarted.

“I was checking the drop.”

“You were planning to jump.” Her green eyes filled with outrage.

“No, I was assessing—”

“You were getting ready to climb out that window, Jemmy. I saw it in your face when you read Elizabeth’s letter.” The fear in her eyes told him she had believed it. “Getting killed won’t stop her from marrying someone else. You must wait and stick to the plan.”

“How can I wait, Georgie? She’s getting married to someone—”

“Lord Robert Naylor. Charlotte’s letter said so. But not until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” God, he’d never get to London in time.