Close to the Wind Page 3

  It was when taking the money that she had suddenly thought of looking in the drawer Jasper always kept locked. While he was careless with his money, he kept what he termed vital documents in this drawer, the key to which hung on a hook concealed beneath the desk top. He never knew his young cousins had discovered it soon after their arrival, when they’d sought refuge under the capacious desk to escape their aunt’s tongue-lashing for a misdemeanour. While Georgiana had felt no compunction over the guineas she knew Jasper could well afford, she’d felt furtive as, with shaking hands, she’d fumbled the key into the lock. These last qualms had immediately vanished, however, as she pulled open the drawer and spied Charlie’s letter lying on the top of a pile of papers. Terrified of being caught, she’d only skimmed it before putting it back and hastily returning the key to its hidden hook. Taking the letter would have only aroused Jasper’s suspicions, but she’d seen enough to convince her this situation was all too horribly real and put iron into her resolution to foil Walsingham’s dastardly plans.

  Theoretically, Charles should even now be safe as Walsingham no longer had any reason to unleash his assassin – so long as he heard about the broken engagement in time. But she could take no chances. If Walsingham hadn’t called off his man then she would do everything within her power to save her brother.

  Her hand moved down and her fingers curled around the gold griffin which lay hidden under her shirt. Her grandmother had given it to her when she was a child, explaining that it would be her talisman through life, and its weight now comforted her. Into the darkness she whispered, ‘Come on Charles, fight the fever. Forget what the doctor said. I’m on my way.’ She refused to think that even now, her irrepressible sibling might be dead.

  The deep-bellied swaying of the ship was strangely soothing; the wash of water running past lulled her. The hoarse, unfamiliar cries of the men dimmed and become indistinct from the creaking of the timbers that embraced her. In her mind’s eye she saw the sails billow white under the moon, carrying her away from all she hated, and towards her beloved brother. The exhaustion she’d been keeping at bay stole over her and as Georgiana finally surrendered to sleep, her last thought was to wonder how Jasper had taken her disappearance.

  Not at all well, as it turned out. Jasper had been irate when woken at some ungodly hour by an urgent message that Jet, his beloved Arab stallion, was missing.

  ‘Missing? What do you mean, missing?’ he’d said, rubbing his eyes and rueing the amount of brandy he’d consumed the night before. ‘That’s impossible.’

  But when he’d flung on some clothes and gone down to the stables, it seemed that Jet had indeed vanished. Manners, the groom, was mystified.

  ‘It don’t make no sense, Mr Jasper. I groomed him meself and put him into his stable same as every night.’

  ‘This is ridiculous. Horses don’t disappear. If he’d been stolen, the dogs would surely have barked.’

  ‘Perhaps they was drugged.’

  ‘Drugged? Drugged? Good God, do they look drugged?’ Exasperated, Jasper flung a hand towards the three dogs who were straining on their chains, stridently barking and wagging their tails. Manners begged pardon and drew a line in the dust with his toe.

  ‘Could it be possible that Miss Georgiana …’ he trailed off.

  Jasper was thunderstruck. ‘She wouldn’t dare!’

  Manners’ unhappy face suggested that yes, she most certainly would. Jasper knew she would, too.

  ‘I’ll horsewhip the girl myself if she has,’ he vowed as he strode back to the house to find his unruly cousin. He still found it difficult to think of her as his intended bride.

  ‘Jet’ll be in good hands,’ Manners called after him.

  As Jasper entered the house he heard his step-mother cry out, appalled, ‘That wicked, wicked girl!’

  Running up the stairs two at a time, he found her in his cousin’s room clutching a letter.

  ‘Will you just look at this,’ she cried, thrusting the page at him. ‘She’s gone back to the circus. Well, good riddance. I did my best, but she’s defied my every effort these past seven years and humiliated me more times than I can say. She’s nothing more than a common circus brat – just like her father. Not that my sister was any better. Like mother, like daughter I always say.’

  Jasper, having heard similar tirades over the years, paid no attention as he skimmed the note. It was short and to the point.

  Dear Aunt

  I find I cannot marry Jasper after all. I do not think we will make one another happy. I know I have always been a trial to you, so I’ve decided to rejoin the circus. I heard they are up in Scotland so will make my way there. Tell Jasper I am sorry that I’ve had to take some of his money. I will borrow Jet, but he’s not to worry, I’ll leave him with the constable in Knavesby.

  Thank you for all you have done for me and I am sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you over the years.

  Georgiana.

  He went quite cold, despite the mild summer morning. If they didn’t marry, he’d never get his hands on the gold and Walsingham would be furious. Dimly he was aware of his step-mama still babbling on.

  ‘That ungrateful hussy! How will we explain her disappearance? Not that I’m not very pleased that you won’t be married, now. I never understood why you proposed to her in the first place. Even though you are only cousins by marriage, it still seems so very odd, you know. Celia Chasborough is by far more suitable in every way.’

  Disregarding his step-mother, Jasper ran downstairs to the second floor to his desk in the alcove of the billiards room. Sure enough, the money he kept in the lower drawer was gone. He stood, frowning. A glint of metal under the desk caught his eye and when he stooped down, he saw it was the key to the top drawer. It must have fallen from the secret hook where he always hid it. But Georgiana could never have known about it – could she? A tickle of fear ran down his spine as Jasper thought rapidly. Georgiana was not one to suffer from bridal nerves, so what really had precipitated this flight? Jasper slowly unlocked the drawer and opened it. There was Charles’s letter to Georgiana just as he’d left it last night. Jasper didn’t need to read it; the words were engraved in his mind.

  Georgie

  New Zealand is a splendid place and I’ve struck gold! We’re going to be rich, wildly rich. I’m just writing to tell you this because I’m wretchedly ill and the doctor – an old pessimist – told me to set my affairs in order. So if I shouldn’t make it, I want you to know that I’ve made my will out to you. You’ll have to come out here to Dunedin, but the journey will be worth it. Of course, I’ve no intention of dying and missing out on the most glorious adventure of a lifetime, but I am stupidly weak. Will write again when I’m on the mend, but if you don’t hear from me in six months, use the papers enclosed.

  Charles

  Georgiana had never seen the letter. It had arrived a few days earlier when she was out riding and, idly curious, Jasper had opened it, the seal being poorly fastened. That afternoon he’d proposed to Georgiana, with the letter and ownership papers in the pocket next to his heart.

  Jasper stared at the letter now, thoughts in tumult. Surely she wouldn’t have looked in the drawer. But how else to explain the key fallen from its hook? He had double-checked it as he always did when he’d last used it.

  What on earth had made her decide right at this moment to run away? After all, she couldn’t have overheard his conversation with Lord Walsingham last night. Georgiana was not the sort to skulk at keyholes. She was far more likely to be out, roaming under the full moon as had been her custom when young. He recalled how Charles would wait for her at the bottom of the tree, both thinking none knew of their midnight adventures. Jasper had known but had kept their secret. Their exploits had amused him because they annoyed his step-mama so.

  Apprehension mounting, Jasper crossed the room to the window. It had been ho
t last night and the windows had stood open as they’d played billiards – as they’d talked. Right outside was the oak tree Georgiana had always used to get to her bedroom above. Was that why she’d taken Jet? Had Sheba been tired after some midnight excursion?

  Jasper drew his hand down his face. If she’d heard, then she would know everything. He would have to warn Walsingham and Walsingham would be livid. The mere thought of his employer’s wrath made Jasper swallow, but his mind was moving swiftly. Not all was lost, not yet. Charles was almost certainly dead from his illness – Walsingham’s assassin was surely just an unnecessary precaution. Jasper had never meant to bring harm to Charles. Everything with Walsingham had just got so out of hand – but it was no use thinking about it now. He had this appalling mess to sort out. Bloody girl. What the hell did she think she was up to? His fingers crushed the letter, but Jasper forced his mind to stay clear.

  With Charles out of the picture – one way or another – he could talk Georgiana back into marriage. No woman could resist him and she’d be all alone in the world. He just needed to find her and not for a minute was he buying the story of the circus – he knew exactly where she was going. If he could beat her to New Zealand, be the shoulder for her to cry on when she discovered her brother was dead, all would be saved. It would. Feverishly reassuring himself, Jasper once more ran up the stairs to his step-mother, calling, ‘I think I know where Georgiana is headed and I’m going there to bring her back.’

  Chapter Four

  Georgiana woke with a yelp the following morning when her hammock was flipped, tumbling her onto the boards below.

  ‘Up you get, boy. The captain’s on the foredeck, waiting for us.’

  She scrubbed a hand over her face and staggered to her feet. The night in the hammock had left her feeling stiff. Her mouth was dry, she felt filthy, but otherwise she was still in one piece. She must have slept like the dead for she hadn’t heard the sailors coming down to their hammocks, nor rising for their watch. Her nightmares had been vivid though, of dark chases and unknown assailants. Charlie had been there too, but always in the far distance and though she’d been screaming to him, he hadn’t heard her warnings.

  ‘Come along,’ the sailor growled with a jerk of his head for her to follow. Despite his considerable girth, he was nimble as he threaded his way through the barrels and chests and judging by the pungent trail he left in his wake, Georgiana was not the only one in need of a wash.

  On deck, Georgiana joined the jostling crowd of men. They were oblivious of her, but she couldn’t help eyeing the brawny arms, the tattoos and the long tangled hair with some awe. Several men sported wicked looking scars, but the general feeling was of rough companionship which reminded her of the circus men she’d known as a child. From this she took small comfort.

  A strong voice rose over the creaking of the timbers, the sound of wind and water. ‘Right. Your attention, men.’

  The crew immediately fell silent and Georgiana looked up to see Harry standing astride above them on the small foredeck. His black hair was tossing in the wind, which also moulded the soft, worn material of his shirt to his chest. Trousers rode loosely on his hips, his legs looking even longer than she’d remembered. Etched against a huge sky, he rode the pitching of the ship easily.

  ‘Having set sail for New Zealand sooner than anticipated, we are now headed to Madeira where we’ll pick up provisions.’ He paused, his smile wry. ‘I must tell you that I have made an enemy and left England with the law on my heels.’

  There was laughter and catcalls.

  ‘Nothing new in that, Cap’n.’

  ‘Wha’? They still remember us from a few years back?’

  Harry shook his head. ‘No, this is unrelated to past activities. At this stage I am not prepared to say anything more except the stakes are high. If my mission to New Zealand is successful, I’ll have enough money to restore Sally and there’ll be double pay for everyone.’

  The men sent up a cheer, but the captain sliced this with a swift chop of his hand. ‘However,’ he continued, ‘I will not mislead you. My enemy is a powerful one and the odds are stacked heavily against us. If I fail, the voyage will have been for nothing and the coffers will be empty. Added to that, while I believe in the old girl,’ and here he slapped the railings affectionately, ‘Sally is not, as you all well know, in the best of shape to go around the world. Therefore, if any of you would prefer a more secure future, I am happy to pay you out in Madeira.’

  Mutterings and head shakes broke out around Georgiana and she frowned. Was the man mad? Honesty was all very well, but what if the crew took him up on his offer? Unknown missions with little chance of success might be the stuff of adventure novels, she thought as she hitched her brother’s trousers a little higher, but they were hardly sensible undertakings in real life. If there was a mass exodus in Madeira, where would that leave her?

  Then the seaman who’d woken Georgiana called out, ‘Tisn’t the first time we’ve left a port with the law chasing us, Cap’n, and it won’t be the last. But you’ve never steered us false and I’m willing’—he looked around at the nodding heads—‘we’s all willing to stay.’

  There was a general noise of agreement and a few ‘hear, hears’ tossed in.

  Georgiana should have been relieved by this loyalty from such an unkempt, hardened crew. Instead she now had to wonder what sort of men they were to so enthusiastically embark on a wild goose chase to the other end of the world just because the captain – a man wanted by the law, no less – thought he might find an unspecified fortune in an unspecified way? Then Captain Trent – fists on hips, legs astride – looked down at his men and grinned.

  Her breath hitched.

  It was a grin that invited camaraderie, promised adventure. There was suddenly about him a reckless insouciance that reminded her of the heroes of her childhood: Raleigh, D’Artagnan, Robin Hood. A man who laughed at risk and danced with danger.

  ‘Thanks, Bert, thanks all of you,’ Harry cried out. ‘To New Zealand it is, then!’ and he raised his fist in a warrior gesture. ‘May fair winds bless our voyage.’

  The men cheered, punching the air above their heads, but as they quietened, Harry was serious as he added, ‘Sally and I are indeed lucky to have such a loyal crew. I assure you, I will not let you down.’

  It was just a trick of the light, she knew, but it seemed at that moment he gazed straight down into her eyes and she experienced a strange breathlessness that had nothing whatsoever to do with the band tightly binding her breasts.

  ‘Back to your duties.’

  The men dispersed and this time she most definitely did catch the captain’s attention, for he frowned down at her. ‘I’d forgotten you, Master Miller. Come up here.’

  Georgiana scrambled up the ladder, collecting her senses as she went. She was George. George the schoolboy. There could be no momentary lapses for the sake of a raffish grin. Charlie’s life depended on it. Harry must never, even for a second, suspect anything.

  It was not easy to maintain her masculine façade, however, as she looked into the captain’s face and experienced a most decidedly feminine breathlessness all over again.

  Piratical stubble darkened his long jawline and squared chin, though his high cheekbones and long nose lent his face a certain autocratic severity despite his careless appearance. But when she looked into his dark blue eyes she was dismayed to find the reckless adventurer seemed to have been replaced by a displeased school master.

  ‘I can’t think what madness made me bring you along last night, George. However, you are here now and you’re about to find out what life on board is really like. It won’t be pretty, I can tell you that now. The crew won’t accept you for a start. They don’t like little gentlemen.’ Harry’s own tone carried disparagement on the last word.

  ‘But you’re one.’ The words were out before she could stop them.
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  For the briefest second, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes. ‘Not quite,’ he said coolly, ‘and not for many years. The men have long since learnt to accept me.’

  ‘And they’ll learn to accept me as well.’

  He stared at her for a moment. She glared back. The corner of his mouth twitched.

  ‘We shall see. So Master Miller, tell me now what use you can be. I take it you’ve never been out of England before?’

  Georgiana shook her head.

  ‘Nor on a ship before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ever worked at anything apart from school books?’

  She hesitated, then said, ‘Not yet, but I’m about to.’

  Humour sparked in his eyes, but his tone was pointed as he asked, ‘Is there anything you can do?’

  Georgiana thought for a second. ‘I can climb.’

  He nodded. ‘Let’s see you go up the main mast, to the crow’s nest, then.’

  She swarmed down the ladder, ran across the deck to the base of the mast and looked up. The crow’s nest seemed very small in its wide frame of sky, but she remembered her father’s advice.

  ‘The height, it does not matter. It is all in your head. There is no difference between walking the rope a foot off the ground or thirty feet. Only your head and your heart tell you differently.’

  Even as a young child, she had climbed the trapeze with her father to perform simple somersaults. Without hesitation, she began scaling the mast. Little Monkey was what her father used to call her, and as she went higher and higher up the rope ladder, Georgiana relished the sensation of stretch and balance. For once she was glad of her height and long limbs as she reached for secure foot and hand holds, trying to accommodate the unfamiliar rocking of the ship with every shift of her weight. The deck was far below, but she only noted the height with interest, not fear.