Page 26 of Much Ado about a Widow

The man was probably right. “Continue.”

“Morris even went into the town proper, as far as Cherry Street, but none of us could find a sign of St. Just.”

“So you didn’t find him.” Why must this dimwit act as if he didn’t know he hadn’t found the man?

“Not then, my lord.” Cole’s voice took on an eager tone. “But on the way back here, Morris runs into an old chum, and they gets to talkin’ and come to find out, the chum works on the waterfront for a ship that was moored directly next to one called Justine, out of Penwith, Cornwall, owned by Lord St. Just.”

“The man has a ship moored near here?” Travers would never have thought of such a thing, but it played rather nicely into his hands. He and his men could storm the ship and recover Lady Georgina, or if she wasn’t there, brandish weapons and make the marquess tell them where she was hiding.

Cole edged back a step. “Not exactly, milord. Morris’s friend took us to the place where the ship was supposed to be, but it had gone. Sailed on the evening tide.”

Travers’s mouth dropped open. “And you waited until now to tell me?” He pounded the table until his hand hurt. This was simply too much bad luck for one man to have. Grinding his teeth, he tasted blood.

“I didn’t think it mattered, milord.” By this time, Cole had backed to the door and bumped into it. “If he was already gone.”

“Get out.” If the man didn’t leave, Travers might throttle him here and now.

Cole apparently saw the threat in his eyes and shot out the door, slamming it behind him.

“Crawford!”

“Yes, my lord?” The valet emerged slowly from the parlor.

“I need you to dress me before you go out.” After last night’s indulgence, Travers was rather disgusting at the moment, if truth be told. He required a bath, fresh shave, fresh linen, and his best blue superfine suit.

“Out, my lord?”

“Yes, I need you to first call at The Harbor’s Heart to see if Mr. Sturgehill has left word for me of his arrival. Then, check about passage for both of us to Cornwall. You cannot reserve us places yet, as we must await word from Mr. Sturgehill. Then come back here and pack up everything. We must be ready to leave the instant my venture with him is complete.”

“Very good, my lord.” Crawford turned toward the dressing room, then spun back around. “But where are we going in Cornwall, my lord?”

“Penwith. And Crawford, inform Cole he will be leading the others on horseback to that same area in Cornwall. They are to pack their things and be on the road within the hour.” With hard riding and a bit of luck the men would already be in place near St. Just when Travers arrived on the ship.

“Yes, my lord.” The valet hurried out.

Travers leaned forward and poured the final inch of brandy into his glass. He’d be damned if he let St. Just steal his bride away. Unless Blackham had already broken the contract. This whole scheme had been launched with that very contingency in mind. He prayed to God it had not come to pass.

Draining the last dregs from his glass, Travers weighed the wisdom of writing to the marquess to find out the lay of the land, so to speak. Of course, if Blackham had suddenly taken him in dislike, there was nothing to be done. The lady’s father would simply tell him that the offer of Lady Georgina had been withdrawn, and that would be that. Meanwhile, if he wrote simply to inquire about the plans for the coming wedding, might he not draw attention to his insecurities regarding the marriage? Blackham could see that either as a sign of weakness or disrespect and call off the wedding.

Gazing at the empty glass sourly, Travers shook his head. Too great a chance to take. He would proceed with his original plan: get Lady Georgina into his bed, preferably with witnesses, and secure her as his wife shortly afterward. The end was all that mattered, no matter how he accomplished it.

Chapter Nine

As far as sick rooms went, Lady Georgina’s wasn’t actually as foul as some Rob had had occasion to visit. Despite her fatigue, Clara had kept her mistress as clean as possible and the room tidy. Still, a small cabin tended to retain odors. So getting the lady on her feet and out of the malodorous room would certainly speed her recovery. Being on deck, where the wind, though cold, was fresh, would make a world of difference to Lady Georgina. But in order to get her there, he would have to coax her to eat something. Therein lay the challenge.

“Lady Georgina.” With steadfastly closed eyes, the lady lay mute, although he’d swear she was not asleep. Stealthily, he poked his finger into her shoulder. “Lady Georgina.”

That drew a mumbled response he couldn’t quite hear. “I beg your pardon?”

She sighed and whispered a bit louder, “Please, go away.”

Shaking his head, Rob grabbed the cup from the tray he’d brought, the spicy steam wafting into the air. “I’m afraid I cannot do that. I have taken you on as my charge, you see, willingly or not, so I am bound to see you safely to St. Just or my honor is forfeit. You would not wish that, would you, Lady Georgina?”

Dead silence.

Well, he supposed it only natural she felt some ill will against him at this point. “Whatever your feelings for me, I am in charge of your welfare, which includes attempting to cure you of your seasickness. To do that you must eat.”

“No.” Scowling at him, she shook her head vehemently. “If I eat that I shall be violently ill.” She clamped her lips shut and stared at him, defiant.