Page 29 of Much Ado about a Widow

“Now, I don’t know if you understand everyone or just Lady Georgina, but I’ll tell you anyway, Lulu. I believe I’m beginning to like your mistress more and more.”

They reached the deck, and the crisp air hit his face. Bracing. With a laugh of pure delight, he lifted one of Lulu’s long, fringed ears and whispered, “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

* * *

The sun was well up by the time Georgie awoke a second time. Immediately, she sensed a difference in her body. The dreadful queasy feeling had gone, leaving her rested and alert. Her stomach was rather sore, but considering what she’d been through, that seemed nothing. When she remembered the horrors of the night before . . . No, don’t dwell on that. She snuggled under the covers, stretching and relaxing. Though loathe to do it, she would have to give Lord St. Just credit. He’d known what he was talking about as far as curing mal de mer. Or his grandfather did. That didn’t matter. What did was the confidence stealing through her that she could finally manage a venture out on the deck.

Clara had not put in an appearance. Poor thing must still be sleeping. Well, let her sleep. Lord knew she deserved it after the night she’d spent. Georgie was perfectly capable of dressing herself if she had to. If she could find her front-closing stays, that was. Cautiously, she sat up in bed. No difference, thank goodness. She swung her legs over the side of the bunk and managed to stand. The ship was cooperating, finally. That dreadful pitching had ceased, and she seemed to be gliding along as easy as you please. Or else Georgie was simply getting used to the motion. Either way, it was a godsend.

Surprisingly, it took her an age to dress herself, even though she put on her simplest gown, the blue wool with the large flounce at the bottom. The buttons kept slipping out of her grasp, though eventually she managed to make herself presentable. She twitched her skirts this way and that, wanting them to hang just so. When had she become so dependent on Clara? She used to dress herself of necessity when she lived with her sister-in-law, Mrs. Robinson. Georgie shuddered and quickly wound her hair into a low knot on the back of her head. She never wanted to go back to those unhappy days under her sister-in-law’s rule. She must make certain she did not incur her father’s wrath because of this unfortunate episode. When they arrived at St. Just, she would write him and explain everything and reassure him that she still intended to marry Lord Travers.

A pang shot through her, somewhat sharper than usual, when the idea of her marriage arose. She would so have liked to marry someone for whom she had a fond regard, but she had already married the love of her life. Life would never be the same no matter who she married. He would never be Isaac, so did it really matter who he was? Still, the idea of marrying someone she could laugh with, or tease, or enjoy a spirited war of words with, tugged at her heart. Despite her illness earlier, she’d quite enjoyed the little tussle of wills with Lord St. Just. Lord Travers did not strike her as a man with whom one could have such an encounter. From what she’d learned of him, he would have sent a servant to tend her. Or left her to her own devices, in which case she’d still likely be retching in the bed.

Shaking her head, Georgie determinedly grabbed the cup of cold tea and took a sip, then nibbled a little more of the peculiar hard biscuit. Both went down well and sat comfortably within. Perhaps she might be able to manage something a little more substantial for dinner tonight. From her memory of the cook’s broth earlier, dinner promised to be a treat.

Humming a merry little dance tune from one of the parties at Lyttlefield Park, she slipped on her blue pelisse and marched out of the room, at last ready to brave a turn on deck.

She made her way up the passageway, which brought her onto the main deck of the Justine. The sun had hidden itself behind a bank of fluffy clouds, but the wind, as St. Just had promised, had tempered a bit and brought the clean smell of salt spray into her nostrils. She breathed deeply, the smell of the salt air bracing. The gray Channel water seemed endless, and thankfully calm. Scarcely a ripple marred the surface.

Georgie looked about for Lord St. Just, finally spying him at the bow of the ship, gazing westward into the glimmering light of the hidden sun. Plucking up her skirts, she carefully made her way toward him. When she got closer, she could make out Lulu roaming around in the bow as well, sniffing everything, though she stayed close to St. Just. He’d apparently made one conquest, which brought a smile to her lips. Despite her misgivings about the marquess, and she still had several, she was happy Lulu had befriended him.

Suddenly, a brilliant ray of sunlight streaked through a chink in the clouds. It drenched the entire bow with bright light, including St. Just, glinting off his dark, curly hair, accentuating the excellent cut of his jacket. The rising wind had flung back the jacket’s front panels, revealing the trim figure he presented, tall of stature, wide of shoulder, narrow of waist and hip. Like the Greek statues in the gardens at home, but brought to vivid life. Although with rather more clothes on, thank goodness. Or not.

Georgie gasped and jerked her gaze away from him as the wicked thought took root in her mind and stubbornly refused to leave. What would Lord St. Just look like nude? What a totally inappropriate thing to think! What was wrong with her? She’d not had any such carnal thoughts since Isaac had died. Not even at Charlotte’s house parties, where her widow friends had actively encouraged her to flirt with the gentlemen, had she remotely entertained such ideas.

She stole a glance back at the object of her dubious desire. He’d not seen her yet and was still looking out to sea, a look of intense satisfaction on his face. She had barely scraped an acquaintance with the man before he’d kidnapped her. And trusted him only as much as she must, although after his well-meant ministrations earlier, she probably should trust him a bit more. Still, that didn’t explain why she should wonder about the man in a state of complete undress.

Really, she must shake off such fanciful and disturbing thoughts. With a determined step, Georgie hurried toward the lone figure. Before she got close to him, he turned, as though he had sensed her coming, greeting her with a broad smile.

“Lady Georgina. How wonderful to see you up and about and looking so well.” His gray eyes twinkled in the sunlight. “I see my grandfather’s remedy has worked its miracle yet again.”

“Yes, my lord. It seems to have done.” She returned his smile, her heart beating faster than usual. Obviously, she’d walked too quickly from the cabin. After her ordeal she must take things more slowly. “Lulu seems to be taking to life aboard ship very well. Thank you for looking after her.”

“My pleasure. She’s a spirited little thing. Once we came to an accord, we have gotten along famously.” He gazed firmly at Lulu, then offered Georgie his arm. “Would you care to see the best view on the ship?”

An unexpected trembling seized her, her hands growing cold, and her throat suddenly tight. This was nonsense. There was nothing in the man’s request to make her come over so queer. She must get hold of herself. Nodding, she wound her hand through the crook of his elbow. In spite of the chilly temperature and brisk breeze, she noticed a steady warmth where their bodies touched. A disturbingly pleasant warmth, in fact. Make small talk and ignore everything else. “What kind of ship is this, my lord?”

“A schooner my grandfather purchased twenty-odd years ago, just after he bought the tin mining company. He believed it would be a canny investment given the remoteness of Cornwall. His acumen has been proven time and again over the years.” Lord St. Just had maneuvered them almost to the very front of the ship. “I’ll wager that’s a sight you’ve never seen before, have you?”

She gazed out over the vast sea of gray water, and her mouth dropped open. Truly, she had never seen anything like it in her life. The ship cut the calm waters almost silently as they bounded forward, the shush, shush of the water against the side the only sound. No land as far as she could see in any direction, only the sea stretching endlessly onward, always moving, always changing. Straight ahead grayish-pink clouds lowered almost close enough to touch the water in a lover’s kiss.

Abruptly, Georgie became extremely aware of Lord St. Just’s body so close to hers, their arms entwined, giving off enough heat that her pelisse was scarcely necessary. Dear Lord, more inappropriate thoughts about the marquess. This would never do if they were to be onboard together for some days. However, she had no earthly idea how to stop such notions.

Lulu barked, putting her paws up on the side.

St. Just’s long silence suddenly struck her. He’d asked her a question ages ago. What was it? “Oh, no, my lord. I have never in my life seen such an awe-inspiring sight.”

A sharp gust of wind made her stagger into her companion’s side. The jolt was like a lightning strike, sizzling through her veins from her hair—which might indeed be standing on end—to her curling toes. She could do nothing but cling to him as the ship dipped and a splash of spray cascaded over the bow rail, spattering them with cold seawater. “Let’s get you back to the safety of the mast. The wind’s picked up rather quickly, which means the waves will likely do the same. We wouldn’t want you drenched and catching a chill.” He grinned and reversed their course. “Not when you’ve just begun to enjoy sailing.”

“Of course.” Swiftly, she stepped away from him and moved toward the towering timber in the center of the ship. “Come, Lulu.”

The ship dipped violently forward, and a giant wave of water cascaded over the bow.

Georgie shrieked and grabbed St. Just’s arms again.

“I’ve got you.” He grabbed her about the waist, his strong arms anchoring her to his rock-hard chest, and she relaxed against him.

Frantic barking drew her attention to Lulu, drenched by the huge wave.