Page 40 of Much Ado about a Widow

“But she resided at Lyttlefield Park for some time last autumn. Perhaps—”

“No, Jemmy.” Elizabeth silenced his protest emphatically. “Lyttlefield has been closed since Charlotte’s wedding last month.” Her hand tightened on his, and she bit her lip. “I pray nothing untoward has befallen Georgie.”

He squeezed his wife’s hand. In her condition she should not worry about anything. “I’m certain it has not. We simply have not thought this through. Are there other places she might go?”

Frowning, Elizabeth shook her head. “Jane is still here and, in any case, has only Lord Theale’s townhouse as her residence. Georgie would not go there after Fanny’s tale of his treachery. And as for Maria, well . . .”

His wife gave him a speaking look. Another of their widow friends had caused a tremendous scene at a house party last October, and actually eloped with one of the guests. Again, not someone Georgina would have gone to, even under duress.

Worry lines appeared around Elizabeth’s eyes. “Jemmy, what if she has truly been abducted?”

“I doubt that very much, my dear.” He patted her hands. “Father made no mention of any sort of a ransom demand. And the country is very settled. No highwaymen about as they were last century.”

All the same, a tickle of unease twitched the hairs on the back of his neck. Still, he wouldn’t alarm his wife unduly.

“Do not fret, love.” Jemmy smoothed out the wrinkles in her brow. “I am certain there is a good explanation for this behavior. Georgie is well-known within the family for possessing an endless supply of those. Meanwhile, I shall write to Father and tell him I will go to Byfleet and see if I can discover anything of her whereabouts there. My sister will feel the sting of a cane on her derriere if this is some lark she is attempting on her own.” Despite his carefree words, however, Jemmy’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of Georgie in actual danger.

“Who is your other letter from?” Elizabeth nodded at the remaining piece of folded stationery. Quite different paper, foolscap in fact, the direction splotched and the seal half broken.

“Let me see. I don’t think it’s from Georgie—Oh, good show. It’s from Rob.” Jemmy popped the remaining piece of red sealing wax off the letter with such force he sent it flying up into the air. “Please be seated, my love. I don’t want you to fatigue yourself. I’ll be just a moment reading this.”

“I had no idea a letter from Lord St. Just would be deemed so exciting.” Smiling at last, Elizabeth sat back in the chair and took a sip of tea.

“His letters do not always elicit such a reaction, I assure you,” Jemmy said, settling back into his chair and unfolding the page. “But I wrote to him some time ago with the request to help me think of some way to stop Georgie from wedding Travers.”

“Lord St. Just has knowledge of such schemes to jilt a man?” Delicate eyebrows raised, Elizabeth set her cup back into its saucer. “I shudder to think what escapades the gentleman has engaged in.”

“Why will women think ill of Rob?” Jemmy said absently, smoothing out the page with his friend’s message. “First Georgie calls him a pirate, and now you, my own wife, is deeming him unsavory.” Raising his head, he tried to look sternly at Elizabeth, but failed miserably. “I will have you know, my best friend is . . .” Pausing, he stared at the opening lines of the letter, reading them again. And again.

“Your friend is what, my love?”

“A pirate!” Jemmy crushed the sheet of paper in his fist.

“What?” Elizabeth jerked toward him.

“A blackguard.”

“Jemmy!” Her eyes were like blue saucers.

“A fatherless cur.” By God, he couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call the scoundrel.

That had brought his wife to her feet. “Jemmy, for goodness sakes, what has he done?”

“He’s taken Georgie.”

“What? No.” Elizabeth sank back into her chair. “But why? He’s your friend, Jemmy. Why would he do such a thing?”

“All I can think is that he’s run mad.” Mad as a hatter. That was the only explanation Jemmy could muster.

“What does he say?”

Prying his fingers from around the crumpled paper, he thrust it at Elizabeth. “You read it. I cannot . . .” He couldn’t believe it. As though someone had ripped out his very soul, the betrayal left a gaping hole in him. Rob had kidnapped Georgina. God have mercy on his soul when Jemmy laid hands on him.

With shaking hands, Elizabeth seized the letter and read it aloud.

Dear Brack,

I must inform you that I have your sister, Lady Georgina, with me on the Justine currently anchored at Portsmouth Point. I will be setting sail with her on the evening tide bound for St. Just Castle in Cornwall.