Page 49 of Much Ado about a Widow

“Hush. They will never believe I was overcome if you make me laugh.” She leaned on his side, laughing silently as she shook.

“Well, it’s not as if you were tying your garter in public.”

She gave his arm a squeeze. “Enough. I wanted to ask you what you make of the fact that Lord Travers is also heading for Cornwall. How did he get the information that she is there?”

“I assume Father informed him after reading my letter.” Jemmy shook his head. Didn’t his father know what Travers was capable of? Obviously not if he had agreed to Travers marrying Georgie in the first place. “So he is here and spoiling for a fight with Rob. I am afraid, however, that Travers will simply waylay Rob, which will leave Travers Georgie’s only hope of avoiding scandal and ruin.”

“There must be another way.” Linking her arm in his, Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder.

“Of course, there is. The easiest one imaginable. For Rob to marry Georgie.” Jemmy slid his fingers around his cravat to loosen it and pulled it off.

“I thought you said she disliked him.” Elizabeth yawned and snuggled closer.

“She does, or did.” He paused in the act of unwinding the cravat. “But Rob can be the most persuasive and charming of fellows. I would not be surprised if he hasn’t made her fall in love with him.” Tossing the length of fabric onto the floor—there was absolutely no place else to put it—Jemmy stood and raised his wife to her feet. “Come love, let me undress you. It’s a good thing we left our servants at home. We’d have had no room for them at all.”

“Sometimes I wish only you would undress me at night.” Stretching up on tiptoe, Elizabeth raised her arms so he could undo the buttons down her back.

“And why is that?” Jemmy slipped his hands around to cup her breasts and free them from her stays.

“For this very reason.” She arched her back into him, and he groaned. The next few days would be torture. The bed was simply too small for any kind of amorous activity. “Do you think Lord St. Just may have developed an affection for Georgie?”

“I have no idea, but I will tell you, I’d much rather she marry Rob than Travers. Even if I do need to speak a word in the marquess’s ear, I know he is the better man.”

“But will your father see it that way?” Elizabeth turned toward Jemmy, her breasts now temptingly close.

If he leaned toward her, he could brush against her. . . .

“Hand me my gown, please.”

Groaning again, Jemmy complied, gritting his teeth and summoning his willpower.

“After our miracle marriage, I believe it is Georgie’s turn.” She climbed up and settled into the far side of the bunk, curving her back against the ship’s wall. Patting the sheets invitingly, Elizabeth sighed, whisper soft. “Come to bed, my love. I am sure we will find a way to make do here.”

Pulse racing, troubles forgotten, Jemmy stripped out of his breeches, coat, and shirt in an ungodly short period of time. He climbed into the bed and managed to pull Elizabeth into his arms. “I believe you are correct, my love. We will do just fine right here, and, pray God, Georgie and Rob will find a way around both Father and Lord Travers.” He kissed Elizabeth, and heat rose all over him. “There is always a way.”

Chapter Sixteen

The next few days were virtually a dream come true for Georgie.

She had dutifully sat down the next morning and written to her father about the mysterious kidnapping—neither she nor Rob nor Lady St. Just could come up with a plausible idea of who would have had her kidnapped and for what purpose—asking if he had any enemies or if a ransom note had been delivered to him.

Admitting that she had nothing to lose, she also suggested that given the time she’d spent alone on the ship with Lord St. Just, Lord Travers might not still wish to marry her. However, St. Just, having compromised her, was willing to marry her. She then touted Rob’s bravery, his kindness, and his quick thinking in time of crisis. Then, to put things in terms her father might actually value, she gave him an idea of the wealth of the marquessate along with the designation of precedence accorded to the Marquess of St. Just, one well above Travers and slightly above his own.

With a prayer to the Almighty for her happiness, she’d signed and sealed the missive, gotten Rob to frank it, and sent it off in the daily post packet to Penzance. That unpleasantness done, she’d joined Rob as he’d gone about the many duties for which he was responsible for the continued prosperity of the estate.

The first morning after breakfast they had gone to the tin mine to deliver the urgently needed parts that had taken him to Portsmouth in the first place. She’d been fascinated by the mining operation, although she’d declined a closer look when Rob suggested she go partway down a shaft.

The next day he’d asked her to accompany him as he visited some of his tenants who were dairy farmers. The cows were in from pasture, making the workload somewhat more taxing now than during the summer months. A conscientious master he liked to check in on them every month or so. Georgie eagerly agreed to this visit and was fascinated as much by the tenants as the cows. This time Rob managed to persuade her to try her hand at milking. The hilarity that ensued had kept not only Rob but the tenants laughing for at least ten minutes as she tried and tried to squeeze the milk out. At last the cow had had enough and simply walked off, stepping on her half boot in the process. Her toes still ached, but then Rob complained that so did his sides from all the laughter.

This afternoon, instead of a local errand, he’d suggested he show her around the castle. She’d seen very little of it, in fact, beside her room, the breakfast and dining rooms, and of course, the maze. Since she’d arrived, they had been busy outside the castle walls, so perhaps it was time she saw more of the home in which Rob had grown up. Seeing his world had made her long even more to be a part of it, but she had reminded herself several times that her particular fairy story might not have the happy ending she wanted so badly.

They started in the foyer, with what turned into a history lesson about the Kerr family.

“These weapons and shields date back to the fifteenth century, when the Kerrs were just plain knights.” He waved his hand at the swords, battle-axes, daggers, and lances positioned high up on the walls. “I’m positive they have been cleaned, but I daresay most of them have been dipped in blood at one time or the other.” He raised his eyebrows in mock horror. “You aren’t particularly squeamish about such things, are you?”

“Not particularly, no.” Georgie laughed, but looked closer at the point of a broadsword hanging directly over her head. Was that a spot of rust or . . .

“I wouldn’t stand so directly under that if I were you, my dear.” Gently he took her arm and pulled her from beneath the weapon. “I do not know how long it’s been hanging there, but if the fastening happened to come loose, well . . . a bit messy, don’t you think? Best to be safe.” He took her arm and looped it through the crook of his elbow. “Perhaps a less dangerous tour is in order. Let us go look at the library.”