Chapter Six
“She is a danger to herself,” Damian complained to Sterling as he poured a glass of wine.
“What kind of woman sneaks onto a ship and hides in the cargo area and remains there for three weeks? Does she even realize how lucky she is. Sometimes it has taken two months to cross the same distance, depending on time of year and weather.”
“A woman worried about her sister,” Sterling stated the obvious.
“Woman!” Damian snorted. “More girl, and likely just out of the schoolroom.” He shook his head and took a drink. “Nearly a child with those freckles and braids. A girl who had no business leaving her home on such an adventure.”
“How old do you think she is?” Sterling asked.
“She can be no older than nine-and-ten, but that is assuming she is the older of the sisters, but likely younger.”
He stopped when Sterling laughed.
“What?”
“Do you never pay attention to the debutantes or any female on the marriage mart when you attend the Season?”
“You know that I do not.”
“Clearly, because I would wager that Georgie is no younger than twenty and likely one-and-twenty.”
Damian snorted. “She is a girl who should be at home with her parents. Not chasing a sister across the Atlantic.”
“Maybe if you weren’t always looking for a mistress instead of a potential wife, you would be able to tell the difference.”
“As I have no intention of marrying, there is no reason to look for a wife.” He took a drink of wine and thought over what his brother had just said. “What do you mean that I would be able to tell the difference?”
“I have seen the women you escort about. Not a curl out of place, not a wrinkle on their gowns, lips and cheeks rouged, and bodices cut to entice. Then there is the way certain women have when looking at a man when they are seeking a lover or protector. And, because Georgie was dressed as a man and wearing braids when you first met, you assume she is barely older than a child and you are wrong.”
“I am not!” Damian insisted.
Sterling just chuckled and sipped his wine
Damian ignored his brother because he knew Georgie was young, no matter what his brother believed. “What of her father? She has one. He was mentioned. Or, a mother, who was not mentioned.” Had she lost hers?
“Maybe he was not in a position to travel,” Sterling offered.
“But he would allow his daughter to go after another that had run off?” Damian hadn’t meant to raise his voice but he was incensed. “No doubt, she will leave tomorrow for London.”
“She is looking for her sister,” Sterling reminded him as if he did not care.
Then again, Damian should not be surprised since Sterling at one time had always looked at each situation without emotion, deciding right or wrong, black or white, in the blink of an eye, just like their father.
Damian had always tried to be as unemotional but had never achieved the ability to remain removed and cool when risks were involved.
He tended to think through situations longer and often had questions.
His wanting of answers was how he ended up with Georgie.
“Do you know what kind of danger she could be in if she went off on her own?” Damian demanded.
“I am quite aware, but do you think you can keep her here?” his brother countered. “Or do you think she would willingly allow you to put her on the next Trade Wynd ship sailing to Carrera?”
No. He may have only met her, but Georgie’s determination to save her sister was unflinching.
He took a drink of his wine and pushed his hair from his eyes as he wandered to a window to look out over the gardens at the back of the house.
It was almost too dark to see the blooms. In the distance were the stables and to the side was a conservatory, lights still burning within and where Avery, their youngest brother, was likely to be found conducting experiments on plant growth.
Georgie was not Damian’s responsibility. She came here on her own and could search for her sister on her own. Just because she used a Trade Wynd ship to get to England did not mean he must be accountable for what happened to her after today.
“When are you going to cut your hair?”
Sterling’s voice pulled Damian from his thoughts and he turned around. “What?”
“Your hair,” he said. “Have you given up cutting it?”
Why did Sterling even care? “No time,” he dismissed.
“I only mention it because you keep pushing it out of your eyes.”
Yes, well, it was a nuisance and maybe he should have one of the footmen trim his hair. Or he could just comb it out of the way.
Bloody hell! This was not the time to be thinking about his hair when an impressionable young woman, innocent and foreign to England, was abovestairs likely planning how she was going to get to London as quickly as possible without bothering to ask anyone’s opinion.
Were all females so independent in Italy? Such would drive him to madness.
“There is nothing wrong with Damian’s hair,” Caroline said as she joined them in the library, once their father’s domain and now Sterling’s.
Sterling shrugged. “It got his mind off of our guest for a moment.” The corner of Sterling’s mouth tipped.
Damian shook his head and turned to look out the window again.
Sterling had smiled more since he returned.
More in this past month than he probably had in the year before he left.
And, he was relaxed, and affectionate toward his new wife.
He’d also found humor and if Damian were to be honest with himself, he was having difficulty reconciling his brother with the man he had been before he sailed and the one who had returned.
No doubt it was because he had fallen in love.
Love! A concept Damian had never considered for his future, nor did he expect to wed. After all, it was Sterling who was required to do so and that was because he was the earl and needed heirs, so everything had worked out as it should.
As for Damian, he had Trade Wynd. It was orderly and necessary for the family, and what he had been raised to do, even if it carried an odd emptiness of late.
“Is our guest getting settled?” Sterling asked as if he was not inconvenienced, whereas before, he would have bristled at upset in the household.
“Yes. She was going to rest before dinner and plan the next part of her journey.” Caroline wandered to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of wine.
“What do you mean plan?” Damian demanded. How could she do so from a bedchamber when Georgie had never been to England before?
“She asked one of the maids for maps of England, routes to London, a map of London and the docks, if we had those.”
Caroline settled on the settee and smiled.
Damian did not know Caroline all that well yet, but he was certain there was humor in her brown eyes. Did she not realize how dangerous it was for Georgie to travel on her own?
Further, Caroline seemed as unconcerned as Sterling.
Was he the only person in this household who was sensible and understood how dangerous Georgie’s intentions were?
He pushed his fingers through his hair again and took another drink.
Foolish women doing foolish things that would see them harmed and there was nothing he could do. It didn’t matter that he had just met her, Damian could not allow her to simply go off unprepared.
To think that at one time, when he was younger, he had wondered what it would have been like to have a sister instead of just brothers. No doubt, he would have been driven to madness as soon as she attended her first Season given his reaction to a near stranger who had stowed away on his ship.
*
After her hair had been washed and her body scrubbed, Georgie relaxed in the hip bath until the water started to cool too much to be comfortable. Just being clean lifted some of the anxiety that she had carried on the ship, from the fear of being found to worrying about what had become of Grace.
Her concern for her sister remained, but with clean hair and clean clothing, she was better able to relax, comfortable in her dressing gown as she sat before the blazing fire and combed the tangles from her hair.
She then gathered maps the maid had delivered and studied them, making notes on potential routes she could take to London, while she hoped that her hair dried quickly.
And, as much as she hated the idea of walking all the way to London, she really had little choice in the matter, unless she was able to ride on the back of a wagon, or maybe someone would be kind enough to offer her a ride.
Though, was it wise to ride with strangers in a strange country?
Likely not.
However, if she continued to travel as a man, which she intended to do, it was likely nobody would notice her gender was not what she portrayed so all should be well.
Oh, she hoped that it was so simple.
With a sigh, she put her journal and the maps aside then checked the dampness of her hair.
Thankfully it was fully dry. Unfortunately, it was also full of curls inherited from her mother.
They were nearly unmanageable, and the reason she often braided her hair, but she would not do so tonight.
Instead, she settled at the dressing table and arranged her hair into a simple chignon but was unable to control the smaller curls on her forehead or before her ears, which were thankfully also in style.
Satisfied that at least her hair was presentable, she lifted the lavender dress that she had pulled from her valise and once again shook it in hope of the wrinkles falling away, but they were as stubborn as she and remained.
As there was nothing else that could be done, she dressed for dinner after pulling on stockings and simple slippers.
Oh, it did feel good to be dressed as a woman and she would enjoy it for tonight because tomorrow she would be wearing trousers again.