One Night of Passion (26 page)

She shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong. She should trust him. Believe her heart. Didn’t she always tell Kit that if you were honest, you would be rewarded?

But the truth is right before your eyes, a
wicked, taunting voice whispered in her ear.
Go ahead, this may
well be your only chance.

Satisfied Colin was well occupied with his wayward brother, she stuffed her hand inside the secret opening.

The first thing she bumped into was a bundle wrapped in a piece of silk. She started to push it aside, when something about it stopped her—for she could swear her fingers were trailing over the hard edge of a shoe heel.

A shoe? Why would Colin keep a shoe in a safe?

Gooseflesh rippled up her arms.

He hadn’t . . . no, he couldn’t have . . .

I searched for you,
he’d claimed.

With trembling fingers, she pulled the bundle out and laid it on the table, staring but for a moment at it before untying the cords binding the silken bundle together.

When she saw what was inside, she gasped.

Her missing shoes.
Both of them. The one she’d lost at Bridwick House. And the one that she’d lost in the alley.

The gooseflesh now covered both her arms, sending tingles of shock and amazement down her spine.

He’d gone back the next day and retrieved her missing shoe. Which meant . . . he had searched for her.

Her fingers traced over the intricate embroidery, the silk laces, now the tangible proof of his affections, of his heart.

Captain Colin Danvers wasn’t just nice, as Kit had proclaimed. He was an incurable romantic.

A man who’d search through a refuse-strewn alleyway to find a missing shoe surely wouldn’t consign his ward to a wretched marriage . . . he couldn’t be a heartless rake. A traitor to her father’s trust.

Trust him,
her heart urged her.
Trust him with the truth.

Georgie took a deep breath and glanced back at the opening in the wall. She should stow the shoes back in and follow her instincts. Trust him and toss her doubts overboard.

Wrapping the shoes once again in the length of silk, she hastily returned them to their hiding spot.

She glanced back at the door again. While finding her shoes proved one theory about Colin, there still remained one other outstanding issue.

The fate of England. Of Nelson.
The dire words stirred something inside her. A distant memory. A call to action.

Georgie’s lips pursed. Lady Hamilton had been extraordinarily kind to them in Naples. And she knew only too well the lady’s affections for Lord Nelson. If something happened to his lordship and Georgie could have prevented it, she would never forgive herself. Not to mention what the loss of such a great man would mean to England.

Her hand pressed forward into the opening, bypassing her shoes until her fingers closed over the bundle of papers Mr. Pymm had entrusted to Colin’s care.

The fate of England . . . the fate of England.
The words urged her onward.

Letting out the breath she felt as if she’d been holding since Colin had left, she brought the papers out and stared down at them.

I shouldn’t be doing this,
she thought, fingering the string tying the bundle together. Then she thought of Kit and Chloe, trapped in the midst of all this intrigue. For their sakes she had every right to know what Colin and Pymm intended for the
Sybaris.

Satisfied with that reasoning, she plucked the knotted cord open and started sorting through the papers.

So lost in thought as she tried to uncover the answers she hoped would eliminate all her doubts, she didn’t hear the door swing open.

“Find what you were looking for?”

In many ways she had, for now she knew that Colin Danvers wasn’t the monster she suspected, but from the terrible look on his face she realized she had in the process lost his trust and faith.

And more importantly, his love.

Chapter 11

G
eorgie found herself immediately placed under arrest. The dark fury of betrayal in Colin’s eyes had been enough to silence her, especially when Mr. Pymm had come clamoring out of his cabin, delighted that Colin had “finally come to his senses and found her out.”

“Found me out of what?” she demanded.

“Oh, she’s a choice one,” Mr. Pymm said to Colin, rubbing his hands in glee.

“A choice what?” she asked.

“As if you don’t know,” the odious little man interjected before Colin could answer.

When he was about to toss her into her cabin, she clung to his arm. “What is the meaning of this? I wasn’t doing anything wrong—other than trying to determine what danger you’ve placed my sister and child in.”

Colin said nothing.

“Nothing more than spying for the French, you vile girl,” Pymm said over his shoulder.

“Spying for the French? Are you mad?” She looked again to Colin. “You don’t think I’m a spy, do you?”

The look on his face told the entire story.

What a muddle she’d wrought of everything.

“I could get the entire story from her, if you would like,” Mr. Pymm offered, his beady eyes sparkling with glee.

“Oh, do be quiet or I’ll close that foul mouth of yours myself,” she told him, her fist waving in warning under his nose.

Mr. Pymm bounded back, his nose twitching like a cornered rabbit.

“You’ll be given a fair trial in London,” Colin said. “I promise you that.”

“London?” she asked again, this time fear replacing her anger. “No, I think not. Return us to Naples. Lady Hamilton and even Lord Nelson will vouchsafe my honor. I am no spy.”

“Naples, she says. What, so you can carry out your vile plans?” Pymm mocked.

“Colin, please,” she begged.

He shook his head. “London it is.”

“Put me ashore in Bonaparte’s lap if you must. I will prove my innocence.”

“Oh, that would be convenient for you,” Mr. Pymm said. “As if you haven’t been trying all along to have your French friends come to your aid.”

Georgie was growing quickly short of temper with the man. “I’ve done nothing but try to protect myself.”

“Well, a court will decide that,” Colin said, before closing the door in her face. He ordered one of the men to stand guard and then she heard his footsteps retreat to the sanctuary of his own cabin.

A few minutes later the door opened, and for a wild moment Georgie thought it was Colin returning to discuss the matter, but it was only Mr. Livett bringing in Chloe’s cradle.

It was with a bitter heart that Georgie laid her daughter down inside the gift that had swept aside her own doubts about the man she loved.

The rest of the night, Georgie paced the space between the two bunks.

If only Colin believed her. If only he trusted her.

With each step, she knew she was only ignoring the obvious.

If only
she
had believed in him.

Exhausted, she lay down, her hand on Chloe’s cradle, a constant reminder of what she had lost.

Oh, what was she to do? How would she ever convince him that she wasn’t a spy?

She closed her eyes and wept silent tears. And in her misery, she fell into a deep sleep. For once her dreams didn’t haunt her, for how could they compare to the horrible mess of her life?

Yet if her situation had seemed dire in the darkness of night, dawn brought a new disaster.

Georgie caught herself just before she tumbled out of her bunk, the
Sybaris
leaning hard to larboard, the ship’s timbers straining and creaking as it raced to cut through the waves at a dizzying speed. Overhead and in the corridors, she heard the crew scrambling about, as if they were racing against the devil.

She climbed out of her bunk and up to the porthole.

Closing in on their position was a sloop. Hardly a problem enough for such a drastic course change, but she soon realized the little ship wasn’t alone, for when she glanced ahead, there was another speeding toward them like a crafty little hawk.

Georgie swallowed. One sloop with only twenty-four guns was one thing, but a second would present a problem even to the larger and better armed
Sybaris.
If Colin was half the captain she suspected him of being, he’d have no difficulty dispensing both ships before they brought too much harm to bear.

Still, there was something in the pitch of the ship and the frantic tattoo of footsteps above deck that made her suspect something more was amiss.

She glanced over at the bunk opposite hers, where Kit was softly snoring. In her cradle, Chloe slept nestled in her blankets.

Quickly and quietly, she dressed. Cautiously opening her door, she found that the guard stationed there had left his post, so she made her way up onto the deck without being stopped.

As she climbed up the ladder to the rear deck she spied Colin standing beside the wheel, his legs set apart, his arms across his chest. He wore dark breeches and a white shirt, his unruly dark hair tied back in a queue. He’d tucked two pistols into his belt, and strapped on a sword as well.

He stole her very breath, her fears having found a champion to chase them away.

Beside him, Mr. Pymm buzzed like a fly. “You must flee,” he complained. “We cannot be captured.”

“Don’t you think that’s what I’ve been trying to do since dawn? But we may not have a choice,” he warned. “Like I said, be prepared to do what we discussed. If they board us, you’ll have no other option.”

“Board us?” Mr. Pymm squeaked. “I would hope you have no intentions of letting them get that close.”

“I’d prefer not to,” Colin said, his gaze taking in the sails overhead. “But the wind is dying and they’ve still got the advantage.”

Board them? Capture? Why would he even be considering giving up the
Sybaris
to a mere pair of sloops? Georgie scrambled up on the quarterdeck, only to discover the true reason for Colin’s gloomy prediction.

They were about to be cut off.

She’d seen the two smaller ships from the porthole, but what she hadn’t seen was the ship-of-the-line bearing down on them. Her gun ports were open and at the ready, and she had every inch of sail stretched and filled, making good use of the last vestiges of the morning breeze. With the advantage of the wind, the French ships were drawing their net closed tight.

Oh the devil with it all, when she’d told Colin yesterday that she hadn’t cared if they were put ashore in Bonaparte’s lap, she’d been lying. Uncle Phineas’s and Lord Danvers’s machinations were one thing, but dealing with the French was an entirely different matter.

And though her mother had been French-born, as had Mrs. Taft, they’d been raised in a France that no longer existed. Georgie had heard her fair share of stories since the Revolution from frightened emigres about French atrocities. The passing regimes over the years had wiped away the veneer of civility that had once held the country together.

“But we must get to London, sir,” Pymm was complaining, as if his tea had just been brought to him cold.

“The Foreign Office is going to find it most inconvenient if we are delayed, not to mention how annoyed they will be if I am captured.”

“Someone get him out of my way,” Colin said, sweeping past the man and climbing up on the railing to gain a better look at their position.

Livett elbowed Mr. Pymm aside and handed Colin a spyglass.

Georgie crossed the deck, her hands gripping the railing as she got a full view of the desperate situation before them. “Can’t you slip through? Make a run for it?”

Colin glanced down from his survey, his annoyance at Pymm growing to outrage at the sight of her.

“What are you doing up here?” he barked. “I gave orders for you not to leave your quarters.”

“You also gave orders for all hands,” she shot back. “And if you think I am going to sit below and wait to be blown to kingdom come by those dogs, you’re wrong. I can help. I know how to rig sails. I can carry powder. Just let me.”

His gaze narrowed. “I think you’ve helped enough. Besides, I thought you would be thrilled to see your friends coming to your rescue.”

Georgie’s hands balled into tight fists at her sides. “I am not a French agent, you mutton-headed—”

She never finished her curse, for just then the great ship sent forth a volley, her cannons roaring to life, sending one ball after another ripping through the shrouds.

Colin finished her curse for her, then hopped down from the railing and paced to the middle of the quarterdeck.

“Mr. Livett,” he shouted, “get the men ready. I intend to blast these devils to hell.”

“You can’t fight them,” Georgie said. “They’ve got you outgunned.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sloops now taking up flanking positions fore and astern. “They’ve got you surrounded.”

“Madame, get below. This is the last time I’ll tell you.” He turned his back to her, dismissing her as he had Pymm.

“I will not. Not until you come to your senses. Have you forgotten your daughter is aboard?”

Colin stiffened. As he slowly swung around, his gaze bore into her, hard and glittering. “Suddenly this morning she’s my daughter? How convenient.” He strode past her and began shouting more orders.

Georgie sped after him. “Don’t be such a lobcock. Of course she’s your daughter, just look at her.” She caught him by the shoulder and spun him around. “If it were just me aboard, I’d tell you to send them to the bottom, but there are Kit and Chloe to think of. I won’t have them hurt, or worse.” She took another glance at the ship-of-the-line now looming darkly toward their position. She swallowed and took another deep breath. “If we are captured, I can’t believe they’d harm a babe or a young girl.”

“I fear your trust is sadly misplaced,
that
is exactly why I must fight.” He offered her the spyglass. “Take a look for yourself. ’Tis the
Gallia.
I know her captain. Bertrand. Perhaps you know him?”

She shot him a withering glance. Why did he persist in assuming she was a spy?

Well, because he caught you snooping like one,
she told herself.