Page 57 of Miss Wylde and the Wynd

A man entered after her and eyed her belongings then sat across from where Damian would be seated.

Two women entered after. One sat beside her and the other across, at the far end of the coach, leaving the middle seat directly across from her open.

A second man entered, stared at the empty seat opposite her, which was between a man and a woman and then the seat beside hers and reached to remove her items.

“That is where my husband will be seated.”

“As he is not here, I now claim it. Move your things.”

“I will not!”

He glared at her and grabbed the satchel.

“Please unhand my property.”

Georgie looked past the man to Damian, grateful that he had arrived in time.

“If you want a seat then you should have been here.”

“My wife was, now please step aside.”

“I will not sit in the middle,” the man insisted. “You were not here. Therefore, I will be sitting by your wife.”

Her pulse jumped as she anticipated the two coming to fisticuffs because Georgie did not believe that Damian would back down and if the two did fight, it would be out of the carriage and if the mail coach decided to leave, the two would be left behind.

“Let Wynd sit next to his wife,” the first man who boarded the coach ordered.

She blinked and stared at him. The man knew who Damian was and she just claimed to be married. She had hoped that the only person who had believed the falsity had been Panmure, which would easily be dismissed according to Damian.

“He was not here,” the last man argued.

“Sit and quit being an ar…” He stopped and cleared his throat and Georgie could only assume that he was about to say arse, a word she sometimes heard on the ship when sailors were close to her hiding space. She had heard several colorful expressions that she had been left to think about.

“I am a baron and I demand—”

“—He is the brother of an earl and from the family that owns Trade Wynd while you remain destitute. Be careful who you make an enemy,” the first man warned.

The gentleman’s face turned red right before he pushed past Damian and exited the mail coach, then called to the driver that he was collecting his valise.

Damian then entered, lifted the satchels, and took his seat. Georgie placed it on her lap, where it always remained while Damian set his on the floor behind his ankles, keeping it flush against the seat instead of taking up space on the floor.

Georgie waited for him to acknowledge the man sitting across from him but the two only stared at the other.

Were they friends? Were they enemies or merely acquaintances?

Chapter Twenty-One

Lord Thomas Frome, Baron, nemesis at Eton, and later friend at Cambridge, was seated directly across from Damian. In any other circumstance, such as seeing the other in Whites, they would share an ale and discuss any changes in their life circumstances since they last spoke. In this instance, it had been five months since Damian had sat across from Frome.

Frome arched a blond eyebrow. “Wife?”

“An unexpected turn of events,” Damian answered. If he could tell anyone the truth, it would be Frome, but not where two strangers would also hear.

The corner of Frome’s mouth tipped, then he nodded to Georgie.

“Baron Frome,” Damian introduced. “My wife, Geogianna.”

His friend dipped his chin. “It is a pleasure.”