Page 48 of Much Ado about a Widow

“What takes you to Cornwall, my lord?” Captain Bryant’s cheerful voice broke in on Jemmy’s musings.

“My wife and I are visiting an old school friend for several weeks. He suggested the voyage as a speedier alternative to an overland journey.” Jemmy eyed Travers, but the man gave no reaction to his words. He’d be a sharp card player that one.

The captain motioned for more wine. “And you, my lord?” He looked inquiringly at Travers. “What business brings you to Penzance?”

For a moment Jemmy thought Travers wouldn’t answer. The silence lengthened as the earl stared menacingly at him.

The captain cleared his throat, obviously afraid he’d offended the peer. “I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to pry.” He turned to Elizabeth as a refuge. “My lady—”

“My wife.” Travers drained his glass and set it on the damask tablecloth with a heavy thud.

Elizabeth jumped, and Jemmy stared at the man, thinking he’d not heard right. “Your wife, my lord?” What was the man implying? “Did you say your wife?”

“I did, sir, as you well know. More wine here.” He fixed an ugly stare on one of the junior officers, and the man came at a trot with the carafe.

“I know nothing of a wife who belongs to you, my lord. Please enlighten us.” This was odd behavior indeed.

“She’s your sister, Brack. I should think you know her.” Travers glared at him, a menacing stare filled with unrelenting animosity that put Jemmy immediately on guard.

Trying to avert a disaster at his table, Captain Bryant charged in to change the subject. “Lady Brack, I believe I was told your late husband fought—”

“I do, Lord Travers.” Jemmy wasn’t about to let Travers’s remark go unanswered. “But unless my father somehow forgot to inform me of the nuptials, she is not your wife.” Glancing down the table, he winced. He’d tried to keep his voice down, but all eyes were focused on their end of the table.

“We are betrothed, the contracts signed and sealed. Just as good as wed in a court of law.” Travers had sunk back in his seat, brows lowered until they appeared to touch his nose.

“I think not, my lord.” The captain valiantly dove into the choppy waters. “A betrothal, while legally binding, is not considered a marriage.”

“We’ll see about that.” Leering at Jemmy, the earl took another sip of his wine. “I intend to find her and to kill the cur who took her.”

Squeezing Jemmy’s hand, Elizabeth began to tremble, her face drawn and pale. She turned her frightened gaze on him, but he squeezed back, sending her strength as best he could. “Perhaps we should save this discussion for a private moment, Travers.”

As if just noticing he had a very attentive audience, Travers shook himself, drained his glass, and rose. “If you will excuse me ladies, gentlemen.” He bowed, strode away to his cabin, entered it, and slammed the door.

A clamor broke out at the table, everyone speaking at once and looking toward Jemmy for answers. He stared back at them, at a loss for words. He had no idea what Travers planned to do, although it certainly sounded like he intended to do more than just draw Rob’s cork. His friend could be in actual danger from that blackguard.

Surreptitiously, Elizabeth fanned her face with her hand.

“Are you all right, my love?” Jemmy whispered in her ear.

“I would like to retire as well, my dear. I am feeling distinctly unwell.”

Jemmy shot up out of his chair and assisted Elizabeth in rising. “My wife is fatigued after a very trying day. Do forgive us for leaving so early.”

“Nonsense, my lord.” The captain took Elizabeth’s other arm and escorted her to their chamber door. “I hope your recovery is swift, Lady Brack. My lord, please call one of the officers if you or your wife requires assistance during the night.”

“Thank you, Captain. I will inform you if my wife’s health worsens.” Opening the door, Jemmy helped Elizabeth across the threshold and shut the door. Allowing his worry to surface at last, Jemmy grasped Elizabeth’s arm and compelled her to the tiny bunk and forced her to sit.

“Jemmy, what are you doing?” An eyebrow rose.

“Making certain you are not so distressed by this turn of events that you become ill, my love.”

“Jemmy, I am fine.” Drawing his hand to her lips, she kissed it, sending a shiver down his back. “I wanted to have a word with you, away from everyone who would have been asking questions immediately had I not been ‘overcome.’”

“So you are well?” He gripped her hands. The thought of Elizabeth ill, or even worse, losing the child she carried, had been a constant worry since they had set out from Buckinghamshire.

“Truly I am. Now come, sit by me. It is the only place.” She patted the bunk beside her. “I fear we shall get very little sleep tonight in this excuse for a bed.”

“And for all the wrong reasons.” Waggling his eyebrows, he sent her into a peal of laughter that she immediately tried to stifle.