Page 57 of Much Ado about a Widow

“Your birthday?” Rob blinked. “How did your birthday come into this?”

“I was born in late July, you see. So when I had my come out, I was almost nineteen already. By the time Father had been disappointed by the duke, I was only a few months away from being twenty and one. I asked Father to allow me to finish my Season before thinking about marriage, and surprisingly he agreed. Likely because I did not put up a fuss about marrying Lord Travers.” She wrinkled her nose. “But of course I never entertained that possibility for a moment. My birthday came, and the next day Isaac and I slipped away to the parish church and were married, as legal as you please.”

“The vicar had read the banns in the marquess’s own parish?” Eyebrows raised, Lady St. Just nodded to Georgie. “Your late husband came from bold stock, I see.”

“Well, not quite that bold, my lady.” Georgie smiled at the woman she prayed would be her new mother-in-law. “I’d saved money for over two years, mostly from my clothing allowance here and there.” She leaned toward the marchioness, confidentially. “I did not have a proper new bonnet until my wedding. But I managed to save enough to send Isaac to London for a special license.”

“Well done, my love.” Rob kissed her knuckles. This time he refused to relinquish her hand at all, which would bring no complaint from her.

“And I almost missed the wedding because Rob here did not wish to leave Italy.” With a mock glare at his friend, Jemmy helped himself to another cup of tea. “I returned to Blackham the morning of the wedding, then had to sneak off without letting on to Father at all where I was going. I don’t believe he knows, to this day, that I attended.”

“Is she the reason you dragged me away from Naples a full month early?” Frowning at her brother, Rob seemed to forget her presence beside him.

“She is.”

Rob turned to her, mischief in his eyes. “Then you are forgiven, Brack. You should have told me at the time. I’ve been blaming you these last few years for the missed opportunities.”

Pretending innocence, Georgie cocked her head. “Opportunities to do what, my dear?”

Her question caught him just as he was swallowing a mouthful of tea. Choking sounds erupted as her betrothed fought to keep his countenance. Finally the tea went down, although Rob was red in the face. “You will be the death of me yet, my dear. And opportunities to see more of the Italian countryside, of course.”

“Of course,” she murmured, smothering a smile.

“We have gone very far afield from the question at hand, Georgie.” Elizabeth broke in. “What has your father done this time to ensure you go through with the marriage to Travers?”

Georgie sobered. Life could never be light for very long. “Back in December, when Father sent for me, he told me that if he were to take me back into the family again, I had to sign a contract stating that I undertook the marriage of my own free will and would abide by the terms Father set forth.” With a shrug, she looked away. “I had nowhere else to go. Charlotte was getting married, so I could not stay at her house any longer. To give myself a place to live and food to eat, I signed it.”

“That was hardly a matter of free will, Georgie.” Rob’s face had darkened. “A choice of starving in a hedgerow or marrying a despicable man is no choice of free will at all.”

“Still, her signature is on it. Father could contest any marriage performed in all of England.” Scowling, Jemmy took a sip of his tea and made a face. “I’m sorry, but I let it get cold.”

“I’ll ring for more.” The marchioness pulled a bellpull at her elbow. “Then simply don’t get married in England.” She looked expectantly at her son. “Go to Gretna Green. From what I hear, it is the fashionable place for elopements these days.”

“It is also likely three weeks or more journey from here by carriage, Mamma.” Rob sat rubbing his lip. “And the obvious place for us to go. Both Travers and Blackham will have their men hounding us the entire way. It’s too much of a risk.” He stood and strode to the sideboard. “I beg your pardon, ladies, but I fear I need something stronger than tea at the moment.”

“But we don’t need to go to Gretna Green, do we?” Georgie twisted around, looking from her brother to Rob. “We could be married anywhere as long as it’s on Scottish soil. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, that is true.” Decanter in hand, Rob paused. “Where in Scotland doesn’t matter at all.”

“Couldn’t we sail up . . . up . . .” What on earth was the water on that side of the country called?

“The Irish Sea?” Rob’s brows dipped, and he hastily poured his drink. “Well, it is considerably closer than traveling by carriage, but I will tell you, the sea is a great deal rougher than what we experienced on the way here from Portsmouth.” Taking a long sip, he swallowed and sighed. “It would make those waves seem like a calm day. It’s at least a day, maybe two days longer trip as well.”

Georgie shuddered. That first day and night aboard the Justine had been nightmarish. To have to endure that horrible sickness for a lengthier time would be close to torture. But it would allow her and Rob to marry. “I’ll do it.” She rose and went to him. “I don’t care that I’ll be ill. As long as we get to Scotland and can be married, I will do it.” She looked up at him and tried to smile. “You just have to make sure I survive ’til the end of the voyage.”

“Where will you put in, Rob?” Jemmy came over and grabbed a glass.

“Portpatrick would be the closest port. About a five days’ voyage with decent wind. We’ll stay there for a day or two after the wedding, then return. In all, perhaps a little less a fortnight’s journey.” Gazing at Georgie, Rob ran his thumb down her cheek. “I’ll make certain you survive, love. Trust me.”

“Georgie may trust you, Rob, but I’m afraid I don’t.” Jemmy raised his glass. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Both Georgie and Rob turned their heads to stare at her brother.

“You won’t be married until the trip back, so I will be accompanying you as your chaperone. Or would you rather we go to Blackham and attempt to get Father’s blessing?” Jemmy’s smile would have made an alligator proud. “Rob has already gone a fair way to compromising you. I won’t have him go any further.”

“Do you forget, dear brother, that I am not some innocent little virgin? I was married a good deal longer than you have been.” If Jemmy went with them, she and Rob would have no opportunity to anticipate the wedding. From the frustrated look on his face, Rob was having the exact same thought.

“And until you are married again, dear sister, you will remain as chaste as the virgin you once were.” To her consternation the stubborn look her father always got—furrowed brow, pinched nose, poked-out lip—now appeared on Jemmy’s face. The Cross family was certainly her cross to bear.