Page 70 of Much Ado about a Widow

“I’m not so certain about that. But perhaps there is another way.” Cautiously, Rob looked at Jemmy, still railing against his father. “Your things are already on board the Justine, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” She looked at Rob, a glimmer of hope stealing into her.

“The moment you marry your father loses all power over you.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Let us go then and get married.”

Thrilling as the words were, they were only words unless she and Rob could make them truth. “How? Father will stop us.”

“We wait for a distraction, then you slip out the door. I will wait a moment only, so it seems we did not leave together.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder, leaving her bereft for a moment, then she steadied herself. “Meet me at the kitchen larder, and we’ll be bound for Scotland with the morning tide.”

“What is the meaning of this audience?” The drawing room door flew open, and Lady St. Just strode in, carrying herself as though she were the queen. Every inch the queen of her castle, she marched toward Georgie’s father, eyes flashing with an unmitigated anger. “Why was I not informed of the Marquess of Blackham’s arrival?” She stopped directly in front of Father, who amazingly seemed to shrink back.

“Go, now.” Rob’s whisper broke the spell, and Georgie scurried out the door, dearly wishing to see this battle of wills, but not at the cost of her happiness or sanity. She sped down the corridor to the kitchen steps at the back of the house. The servants used this staircase, but she didn’t think they’d mind her presence here this once. Flying down the stairs, she made the final step, then turned a corner and almost ran into a maid carrying a coal scuttle.

“Oh, beg pardon, milady.” The girl bobbed a curtsy then hurried on her way.

Gasping for breath, Georgie jogged along the corridor until she arrived at the door Rob had showed her just yesterday, the larder behind which the smugglers’ tunnel lay. Now she must wait for Rob, for he hadn’t told her how to navigate the tunnel, and she did not want to get lost and forfeit their chance to slip through her father’s grasp.

She must wait and see who discovered her first: the ogre or the prince.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Closing the door quietly after Georgie’s escape, Rob slipped forward, inwardly smiling at his mother’s performance. He’d told her the moment the marquess had arrived, so she’d been aware of the man’s presence all along. All she’d told him was to put the irate man in the drawing room and that she’d be along shortly. Well, Mamma did love to make an entrance. He just hoped she could distract Blackham long enough for him and Georgie to get onto the Justine and set sail.

“I am abjectly sorry, Lord Blackham, for my son’s behavior.”

Now that statement did not bode well. Rob inched up beside his friend.

Jemmy glanced at him and raised his eyebrows and whispered, “What is she doing?”

“Presenting a distraction, I profoundly hope.” And nothing else.

Mamma smiled, her white teeth flashing, and Rob relaxed. That particular expression he’d seen many times before, always when Mamma was using her most dangerous wit. It told him she was indeed attempting to help with their escape. “He should have informed me immediately upon your arrival so I could have greeted you in accordance with all the honor you so richly deserve. I do hope you will forgive him and me.”

Lord Blackham’s mouth had dropped open slightly while she spoke. Either he wished to interrupt her or stood in awe of the woman so completely dominating the conversation. Rob certainly hoped it was the latter.

“I beg your pardon, madam, but have we been introduced?” Blackham’s brows had furrowed into a deep V, his full attention on the lady.

“Why yes, we have, although it was an age ago. I suppose I have changed a little.” She peered squarely down her nose at him. “You, however, are exactly as I remember you.”

Blackham cocked his head, his eyes widening with recognition. “Were you Miss Stokely of High View in Kent? Viscount Bromley’s daughter?”

“I was. I am flattered that you remember me, my lord.” His mother’s smile deepened, and Rob had to look away to bite back a laugh. She was relishing this to be sure. “You scarcely seemed to pay me any attention at all when I came out all those years ago.”

“Oh, I assure you, my lady, I noticed you beyond a doubt.” For once the marquess sounded sincere. “Such a beautiful and witty young lady was noticed by a great many gentlemen, as I recall. And you married extremely well, I see.”

“I did. The Marquess of St. Just was the perfect gentleman. We had only a brief time together, but his legacy lives on in our son.” She nodded toward Rob, who tried to look soberly at the marquess. “My son has also grown into a fine gentleman, one who would make his father extremely proud.” She patted Rob on the shoulder as she moved toward her seat. “Leave now,” she whispered sotto voce. “I think it interesting that our children have become great friends, do you not, my lord? Rob, ring for tea, please.”

“Yes, Mamma.” He strode to the bellpull, directly beside the door, Jemmy following after him.

“What are you doing? Where’s Georgie gone?”

“She’s waiting for me at the secret tunnel. Mamma is creating a diversion for your father so we can sail to Scotland as planned.”

“I’m still going with you.” Jemmy’s face took on a wary look, and Rob sighed.

“You can’t. If you leave now, your father will suspect what is going on, and we will never get away.” Pleading silently for his friend to understand, Rob pulled the bell several times. “If you wish for your sister and me to wed, you must stay here and help create the diversion. Once our ship is away, there won’t be anything your father can do.” Rob pulled the tapestry pull yet again. “I am sorry, Mamma, but it does not seem to be working. Allow me to step into the corridor and summon Myers.”

“Thank you, my dear.” His mother met his eyes briefly, nodded, then turned back to Lord Blackham. “And I have heard that both your elder daughters married extremely well. How fortunate for your family. Now the elder is a duchess, I understand. . . .”