Page 42 of Much Ado about a Widow

“Well, then.” Fanny leaned back in the chair, a gloating smile on her face. “I know it is rather out of hand, however, St. Just is quite the eligible parti. And a much better choice for Georgie than the one your father picked.” She turned a warm gaze on her husband. “Mistakes should be rectified.”

“Fanny is correct, my love.” Elizabeth rose and came toward Jemmy, staying his frantic pacing. “Georgie may simply have chosen her own husband in her own . . . eccentric way.”

Jemmy grasped her hands as though they were a lifeline. “I grant you the episode is not unlike others my sister has arranged in the past. Still, something does not seem quite right.”

“Might she have confided it to Charlotte?” Fanny glanced about the room. “Haven’t she and Nash come down yet?”

“Not since we’ve been here.” Elizabeth smiled. “I believe they may be ‘resting.’”

Jemmy raised an eyebrow, and Matthew laughed. “Married men take their ‘rest’ when they can.” His gaze darted to his wife, and his eyes darkened. “As often as they can.”

A blush darkened the pink in Fanny’s cheeks, and Jemmy chuckled. He and Elizabeth had certainly seen very little of their host and hostess during the day since the wedding two weeks before.

“I will talk to Charlotte. However, I do not think Georgie was planning any such thing. In fact, St. Just’s letter doesn’t mention an elopement.” Elizabeth leaned against Jemmy, setting his pulse to racing, despite his concern for Georgie. “Instead, it says he expects Jemmy to retrieve his sister from Cornwall.”

“Definitely not the response one would expect from a prospective husband.” Lathbury frowned. Apparently at least one other person thought the contents of the letter did not involve an elopement.

“Besides, if Georgie did intend to run off with anyone, it wouldn’t be St. Just.” The more Jemmy thought about it, the less likely that solution seemed.

“Why do you say that, Brack?” Lathbury headed to the warming pans on the sideboard and began to fill a plate. He glanced at his guests and shrugged. “One must keep up one’s strength if one is to pursue a woman across half the country.”

“My reason to doubt she is with St. Just voluntarily is her dislike of the gentleman.” Jemmy followed Lathbury to the sideboard and picked up a plate.

“Jemmy! You’ve had your breakfast already.” This reproof likely had more to do with the fact that Elizabeth could eat but little in the mornings than with an actual concern that he indulged too much at table.

“Lathbury is correct, my dear,” he said, heaping piles of ham and roast beef on his plate. “We gentlemen must keep up our strength if we are to follow the troublemakers and discover why Rob has kidnapped Georgie.”

“More tea, please, Thomas.” Elizabeth nodded to the footman, who set off immediately. “So, if Georgie hasn’t eloped with Lord St. Just, why was she in Portsmouth? In his letter he states she was kidnapped on the way to Blackham and diverted to the south. If that is true, then St. Just is actually saving her from the clutches of . . .” Elizabeth threw up her hands. “Who would want to kidnap Georgie?”

“That is quite the question, my dear. And one I will be asking myself all along the road to Portsmouth.” Jemmy sat down to his heaping plate, his appetite restored now that he once again had a plan to follow. He’d pursue Georgie and Rob, catch up to them in Cornwall, and then set about thrashing the man who had compromised his sister. “Care to join me, Lathbury? I could use some company on the journey, and perhaps a second when I encounter St. Just.”

With a sidewise glance at his wife, Lathbury shook his head, regret written on his features. “Afraid I can’t oblige you, Brack. I am newly married, if you remember. And if you don’t, my wife will remind you.”

Jemmy chuckled. “Of course. Your duties lie elsewhere at present.” His own duty to Elizabeth would be sorely tried by the coming absence of at least some weeks. He considered himself still on his bridal tour—and likely would until their child appeared. “I will make do alone.”

“I will accompany you, my dear.” Pouring milk into her tea, Elizabeth spoke up.

“You will do nothing of the kind.” Jemmy attempted to glare at his wife, only to find her lovely blue eyes trained on him like a hunter’s on its prey. “Your interesting condition, my dear.”

“My interesting condition does not preclude my riding in a carriage. If it did, we would be imposing on Fanny and Matthew until the end of July.”

Jemmy trod on the thinnest ice imaginable. “Still, you should only ride as far as London, my love. You do not want to overtax the child.”

“This early in the process there should be no ‘taxing’ of the child. In fact, St. Just suggests we make most of the journey by sea, as it is a faster route than overland. And I am an excellent sailor.” Elizabeth set her jaw. “It is settled. I shall accompany you to find Georgie. I am certain she will need another woman’s comfort when we do find her.”

With a sigh of resignation, Jemmy nodded. He hadn’t known his wife for very long; however, when she set her jaw about something, he might as well keep his breath to cool his porridge. “As you will, my dear.” He turned to Lathbury. “When can our carriage be readied? Apparently we are for Portsmouth.” He smiled at his wife, all along wondering, when they found Georgie and St. Just, which one he would strangle first?

* * *

Ensconced behind his massive, captain’s table, the Marquess of Blackham picked up the next letter from a tall stack of morning correspondence and paused. Brack had written back much more quickly than usual. That could bode interesting news. If anyone knew the whereabouts of his youngest daughter, it was his eldest son.

Thick as thieves they were, ever since Georgina’s birth, no matter how hard he’d tried to break their affection. Allegiance to one particular brother or sister was not to be encouraged in his household. Only allegiance to the family as a single entity was acceptable. If they favored one another too much, they would eventually put the welfare of one above that of the Cross family. That would not do at all.

Using his penknife with skill born of long practice, he carefully lifted the red wax seal and unfolded the letter.

Father,

I received your letter regarding Georgina and wish to assure you that she has come to no harm.