Page 54 of Much Ado about a Widow

“And nothing untoward occurred between you and Lady Georgina?” The tension in Jemmy’s face eased a trifle. “Even if it didn’t—”

“I assure you it did not.”

“It had better not have.” Travers spoke up for the first time since they had come into the room.

“I could scarcely take advantage of a woman who was being violently ill for most of the voyage. Not the sort of mood one wants to encounter when bent on ravishment.” Jemmy and Travers didn’t necessarily need to know that, in this case, Rob’s definition of “most of the voyage” was much shorter than other people’s.

“She was ill the whole time?” Suspicion written on his face, Jemmy cocked his head.

“Well, she finally made it up on deck, and her wretched little dog ended up going over the side.” He had to tell Jemmy that much. Georgie would be sure to do so and praise Rob’s rescue with every breath.

“Lulu?” Jemmy turned quite pale. “Lulu was . . . lost?”

“And found, thank goodness, or your sister would quite likely have drowned me. I didn’t miss it by far in any case.” Rob couldn’t help but smile at the looks of astonishment on the gentlemen’s faces. “I dove in after her and, by the grace of God, rescued her.”

“More fool you, St. Just.” Shaking his head, Travers smirked then downed his glass. “Got another dram?”

Silently, Rob poured, assured the irony of insulting a man in one breath and asking for a drink of his best cognac with the next was lost on Travers. It apparently wasn’t lost on Jemmy, who was attempting not to choke on his brandy.

“So you see, she was perfectly well chaperoned by her maid, and I was frozen solid the last day or so of the journey. Completely incapacitated. Needn’t worry at all about improprieties.” Oh, but he’d probably spend an extra decade or two in purgatory for telling that single lie. “And of course, Lady Georgina has been under my mother’s chaperonage and my protection since our arrival. Nothing untoward could be said about her.”

Jemmy shook his head. “I don’t know about that, Rob. All it will take is one murmured rumor that she was on that ship with you and your crew, and her reputation will be in ruins. The ton talks whether there is substance or not to the tale.”

“The only way to stop such a thing from happening is for Lady Georgina to accompany me back to Blackham where we will be married at once.” Travers nodded, as though the matter had been settled.

“Over my dead body.” Rob slammed his glass down on the desk and lunged at Travers.

With difficulty, Jemmy managed to separate the two men. “My sister will be returning with me and Lady Brack and no one else. In my father’s absence, I am guardian over her and none other.” He glared at Travers, who scowled, but backed down. A moment later Jemmy had turned a stern gaze on Rob. “Do you agree as well?”

“Of course. You are her brother.” Rob glared at Travers briefly, then turned his attention back to Jemmy. “But I will give you notice that I intend to accompany you and put my suit forth before your father for Lady Georgina’s hand.”

“So you do wish to marry her?” Jemmy’s features relaxed.

“What?” Travers’s face darkened as his brows drew downward, his lips puckered into a grimace. “I am already betrothed to her.”

“A mere formality.” Waving the betrothal away like an unwanted dish at dinner, Rob couldn’t refrain from goading the hateful man. “I do wish to marry her, Jemmy. And since minds can be changed, even the Marquess of Blackham’s, I will live with that hope. Especially when he sees clearly that I am the better man.” Rob looked Travers up and down, with an insolence he rarely used. “In so many ways.”

With a maddened roar, Travers charged Rob, grabbing him around the waist and shoving him against the wall. “Not if you’re a dead man.” Drawing back his fist, Travers was about to let fly with a punishing blow when Rob ducked under his elbow, grabbing his arm as he spun him around.

“We’ll see who’s the dead man, Travers.” Rob cocked his arm back and put his weight behind the blow, connecting to the earl’s stomach with a solid punch.

“Ooof.” Air rushed out of Travers, and the man slid to the floor, groaning.

“Joseph!” Rob pushed past the crumpled heap and strode to the door, pulling it open and bellowing again. “Joseph!”

“Yes, my lord.” A strapping footman, over six feet tall, appeared in the doorway.

“Please take this heap of ”—Rob gestured to the downed man—“clothing outside and make sure it leaves the property post haste.”

“Of course, my lord.” Grasping Travers under his arms, Joseph hauled him backward out of the room.

“Let go of me, you oaf.” The faint but aggravated tones of the earl continued through the foyer, until they were cut off abruptly.

“Did your footman take retribution on Travers, do you think?” Jemmy had started toward the door.

“No, I believe my butler, Myers, simply shut the front door on them.” Rob picked up the decanter. “More brandy?”

Chapter Eighteen