Page 38 of Much Ado about a Widow

Almost speechless again at this unexpected boon, Rob cleared his throat and sat straighter in his chair. “If I am considered one of those lucky few, my lady, I will be honored to address you as such.” He took a sip of the wine and charged forward. “I would be honored also if you would call me Rob. It’s short for Robin, which I have never liked, but is apparently the name that has to be continued in the Kerr family by some sort of royal decree having to do with the creation of the marquessate in 1622. All firstborn sons must bear it, I fear.”

Her eyes lit up, and she laughed. “I will be delighted to call you Rob, although I think Robin a perfectly fine name.”

“You wouldn’t if even your friends made fun of you at various points in your life about being Robin Hood.”

“Oh, dear.” Georgie laughed even harder. “I’m so sorry, Rob. I suppose that was dreadful. Do forgive me.”

“Of course. Your brother and I became great friends because he was one of the few chaps I met at school who didn’t mention that at all.” Brack had been a very good friend indeed. Rob only hoped running away with his sister didn’t put an end to that friendship. When he finally met with Brack, at St. Just in a week or so, he’d explain why it had seemed the best plan to take Georgie with him.

Gazing at the beautiful woman across the table, surrounded by candlelight, with the memory of their encounter on the deck so fresh he could still feel her pressed up against him, he feared he might end up having to explain more to Brack than just absconding with his sister.

The door opened, and dinner arrived in a stream of steaming dishes carried by Barnes, Ayers, and Chapman. They quickly laid them on the table, Barnes arranging each one just so, before bowing and leaving, shooting Rob furtive glances as though they expected he would devour the lady along with the food. Did he actually look as obvious as that? Lord, he hoped not. Not that he had any intention of ravishing the lady, though the experience would be magnificent if it occurred.

Enough. He rose and served Georgie some of the beef and vegetables before his imagination ran completely away with him.

Over dinner they chatted amicably about several different subjects, nothing even close to hinting about that interlude on deck. Perhaps she hadn’t experienced the same soul-stirring attraction to him as he had to her. But she should have felt something, shouldn’t she? A worry guarded behind her eyes made him hope so.

“This is something that I have sorely missed these last two years,” Georgie said, as she licked the last crumbs of her gooseberry tartlet off the fork.

“Gooseberry tarts?” Rob slid the plate that still contained two of the little tarts toward her. “Please help yourself. If your cook requires the recipe, I shall have Barnes write it out for you directly.”

“Not the tarts, although they were lovely. I must tell Barnes so.” She put her fork down on the plate and took a long sip of wine. “No, I meant having dinner alone with a man, with my husband, Mr. Isaac Kirkpatrick.”

Rob sat back, his fingers gripping the stem of his glass. “I see. I beg your pardon, Georgina. You have my most sincere condolences.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, but it was a mere raising of the corners of her lips. No warmth behind it. “It is interesting how you miss a person in stages. At least I did. At first, I could not take it in that he was gone. I’d look up each time someone entered a room, convinced it would be him.”

“I would think that natural.” Rob did not wish to hear this confession, but would not stop her. Perhaps she needed to think about her husband after the eventful day she’d had.

“I suppose so, but it hurt abominably to hope and have that hope dashed every day.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “By the time that stage had passed, I had met the other widowed ladies of my circle, which was comforting. Still, I missed my husband terribly. I missed bringing him tea in the study, or walking hand in hand in the evenings, down by the river in the village where we lived.” She glanced at Rob, that sad smile again on her lips. “I still miss sitting across from him at dinner. We would talk about what we had done that day, or what had bloomed in the garden, or what had gone on in the village. Simple things that formed the basis of our life together.”

“You loved him very much.”

“I did. I truly did.” She wiped a tear that had welled up out of her eyes. “He was the kindest, most thoughtful, most loving person I have ever met. I fear I shall never love another man as I did him.” Looking into his eyes, she swallowed, and paused. “So why should I even try? Why not appease my father and have some peace between us if my marriage to Lord Travers will accomplish such a thing?”

Moved by her deep sorrow, Rob took her hand in his. “Because you deserve whatever happiness you can carve out of your life, my dear. No one can take the place of your husband in your heart.” Rob stared at her hand. “But there are other gentlemen who are kind, and thoughtful, and loving. They may not be Mr. Kirkpatrick, but they are decent men who would try their best to make you happy for the rest of your life. If you can, give them the chance to do so.”

Nodding her head, Georgie slipped her hand from his. “Thank you, Rob. You are very kind.”

Their eyes met, a timeless moment in which he could have drowned a second time that day, this time in the green depths that drew him closer to her. Even closer as he leaned toward her, toward the red lips he wanted desperately to kiss, toward the slim body he longed to hold once more, if only to comfort her, to take away her pain.

She stopped breathing as she gazed at him, searching his face for something only she could determine. Then, with a sigh, she drew back and stood. “I believe I have had quite enough adventures for one day, Rob.” Her happy smile had returned. “Thank you once more for a lovely dinner and for being Lulu’s rescuer.”

“It has truly been my pleasure, Georgina.”

“Georgina?” She stiffened and gave him an arch look.

“Georgie.” He laughed and stood. “May I escort you to your cabin?”

Nodding, she drew her shawl back over her shoulders and took his arm. “Yes. You must protect me from the ravening hordes of . . . What do you have hordes of on a ship?”

Laughing, Rob opened the door. “I am sorry to disappoint, but there are no hordes, ravening or otherwise, on this ship, my dear. I must confess I asked to escort you simply to spend another moment or two in your excellent company.” He stopped outside her chamber door and disengaged her arm, though he kept hold of her hand. “I enjoyed our dinner immensely. Thank you for a lovely evening.” He bent toward her, close enough to hear her light gasp. It shot a bolt of hope through his heart as he lifted her hand and kissed it. “Good night.”

With a slight bow, Rob turned back to his cabin, treading softly enough that he heard her door open. Hand on his door latch, he glanced back at her. Their gazes met for a heated second that stole his breath, then she was gone. For now.

Chapter Thirteen

“The morning post for you, my lord.”