Page 9 of Much Ado about a Widow

“The carriage just pulled into the yard. I ran back immediately to inform you.” Crawford pressed his hand to his side.

“Very good, very good indeed.” Travers started for the door, then caught sight of himself in the small tabletop mirror. His cravat was undone, his shirt stained, and his black hair stuck out at odd angles. “Perhaps I should freshen up a bit before meeting my bride.”

With face flushed, Travers held out his arms, waiting impatiently while the valet stripped the blue superfine jacket and shirt off him and headed into the bedchamber. They had been fresh when Travers had donned them that morning, but as the day had worn on, and his thirst had increased, he’d spilled more than one drink on them. Must be at his most presentable to meet Lady Georgina, though.

Once the old jacket was removed, he plied the brush to his tangle of thick, curly hair. His ruddy cheeks didn’t seem to be subsiding, however. “Cold water, Crawford.”

“Right away, my lord.” The man entered from the bedroom holding the brown merino, then hurried back into the chamber and emerged once more with basin and cloth.

Bracing for the cold onslaught, Travers dunked the cloth, wrung it out, and pressed it gingerly to his cheeks. The cool water stung his heated flesh, but only for a moment. After two more applications he convinced himself the red had begun to recede and dropped the cloth into the basin. “My coat. Now.”

Crawford slid his master’s arms into the sleeves with tremendous care and pulled the brown jacket up over his shoulders, then deftly smoothed out the material.

A glance in the mirror persuaded Travers that he was tolerably presentable. He straightened, raising his chin. He’d greet his bride with the commanding presence she should quickly come to know well. He threw open the door and strode from the chamber, anticipation of the meeting now overpowering his nervousness.

Tottering down the stairs, Travers eagerly envisioned Lady Georgina’s terrified or, more likely, outraged face when he made himself known to her. He’d begin calmly by explaining that there had been a change in plans and escort her into the inn. Show her to her room and, once she was inside the door, inform her that the room would actually be theirs for the next several days, while he and she became very, very well acquainted.

He reached the first floor and hurried through the tap room where several travelers were drinking and talking. Middling sorts, no one of the ton to be seen. No one for her to beg assistance from. Good.

As he reached the doorway, the sun came from behind the clouds, shining bright light onto what seemed to be a scene from Bedlam.

Bill Cole lay flat on his back beside the black lacquered carriage, his mouth opening and closing like that of a landed carp. Four horses milled around, although John Brown, the coachman, seemed to be trying to control the skittish beasts. None of his other servants were in evidence. The carriage door hung open, but Lady Georgina was nowhere to be seen.

“What the deuce is going on here?” Travers turned from the sight to Crawford, who shrank back from his master. “You said they had arrived. You didn’t say she had gotten away.”

“I . . . I didn’t see that part, my lord.” Crawford’s face had taken on a pasty look, and he backed away until he bumped into a box of goods and had to stop. “I left to inform you, you see.”

Drawing a ragged breath, Travers stomped over to Cole, towering over the downed man who looked white as chalk as he lay gasping for air.

“How in blue blazes did you let her get away?” Travers leaned over, peering directly into the man’s face. “You had one job alone. To deliver Lady Georgina to me. And you have failed. Disastrously.”

Wheezing, Cole drew in a shuddering breath as he rolled onto his side. Several minutes passed before he regained enough breath to speak, and then the news was every bit as bad as Travers had feared.

“Must ’a been layin’ for me, your lordship. Started kicking up a ruckus, and I had to get to ’em quick like so they wouldn’t draw no crowd. I climbed in the carriage to shut her mouth, and she kicked me like an ornery mule. I landed on my back, and it drove all the wind out of me.” He drew a painful breath. “The others must have gone after her, milord. They’ll catch her quick, mark my words.”

“Worthless.” Travers straightened, glancing at the coachman, who was relinquishing the wild-eyed horses to the inn’s grooms. “You had best be right, Cole.” He peered into the carriage, then below it. “Are those her trunks?”

“Aye, milord. She didn’t have time to take ’em with her.” Laboriously, Cole creaked to his feet, his face in a deep scowl.

“Of course she didn’t, you imbecile,” Travers barked, “but that doesn’t mean she won’t want them. You and Brown stand guard. She may sneak back to try to retrieve them. When she does, bring her to me, or I’ll make tallow out of your hide.” Travers spun on his heel and headed back into the inn. Day was getting worse and worse. Skewering the innkeeper with a glare, he growled, “Send another bottle to my room, and be quick about it.”

* * *

The sight of her brother’s tall, handsome friend with the disturbing gray eyes took Georgie completely aback. Mouth gaping, she could only stare at him, trying to determine whether or not he was a ghostly apparition brought about by her panic. The rock-hard chest she had just rebounded off of persuaded her the man was real. Manna from heaven, in fact, in her desperate situation.

“Lady Georgina.” His eyes had widened at the recognition, their unusual color reminding her of a stormy day on the water. “What a surprise to find you here.” He looked over her head. “Is Brack with you?”

Of course, he would think her with his friend. She shook her head. “Alas, he is not. I am with my maid and Lulu.” She set the spaniel on the ground, then glanced over her shoulder. The kidnappers could come into view at any moment. Although she had not held Lord St. Just in high esteem before, beggars could not be choosers about anything, including their champions. She grabbed his arm. “My lord, you need to hide us.”

“I beg your pardon. Did you say hide you?” His dark, thick eyebrows swooped up, looking like startled birds, while his mouth twitched in an annoying way. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“Let us talk as we walk, please.” Speeding down the planked walkway, Georgie held tightly to the strong arm in her grasp. Surely her brother’s friend would know of a place they could hide and avoid Odd Fellow and his gang of ruffians. If only she had time and a safe haven, she could devise a way to return to Blackham Castle. The marquess would not be pleased to discover his youngest daughter had been kidnapped. Quite likely he would find a way to blame her for her misfortune. Well, she’d have to cross that bridge when she came to it. First things first. “I need your help, my lord. You see, earlier today, my maid, myself, and Lulu were kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” St. Just stopped so abruptly Clara plowed into Georgie’s back, and Lulu yelped as her collar choked her. “Are you sure? Who would do such a thing?”

“Please, my lord. They were right behind us.” Tugging on his arm, Georgie managed to propel him once more down the walkway. “Yes, I am certain they were kidnapping us. Clara can verify it, if you doubt my word.”

The marquess cut his gaze toward the maid, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly, which somehow irked Georgie to no end. She had never seen a gentleman with such expressive brows.