Chapter Twelve
When the coach came to a stop in London at The Swan with Two Necks, Damian assisted Georgie to the pavement, happy to have their journey by mail coach come to an end.
However, he would need to return to Southampton in the same manner so he escorted Georgie inside, after he had retrieved their valises, and requested a schedule so that he knew when mail coaches returned to his home.
He kept his head down, hat lowered and hoped that nobody recognized him because there were people within whom he knew. Not that he was ashamed of traveling by mail coach, but because he did not want anyone to become curious about Georgie.
It was one matter to tell Panmure that she was his wife, which Damian could deny later and insist that Panmure was mistaken. But the same would not be true in London.
Once the schedule was tucked way, they returned outside where he hailed a hackney then gave direction to his brother’s home in Mayfair.
Georgie sat forward. “Why are we not going to the docks? I know from the maps that Mayfair is not located along the River Thames.”
Did she really think they would go there now? As he stared into her determined brown eyes, he realized that she honestly thought that they would.
“It is too dangerous after dark.”
“Need I remind you that my sister is there, and it is after dark?”
Damian sighed and realized that one of the reasons traveling on the mail coach had been more pleasant was because neither he nor Georgie spoke to the other, therefore, they had not quarreled. Such a reprieve had come to an end and he was reminded again how persistent his companion could be.
“She is also with Fisher. Therefore, she is not alone,” Damian reminded her.
Though Fisher was one danger to Grace, if he had not already ruined her.
“My family has a home in Mayfair. After we have partaken of a filling meal, we will get some rest then arrive at the Port of London as soon as the sun rises.”
Georgie’s brown eyebrows bore into his. “It will be the very first thing we do.”
Damian made an X over his heart with his index finger. “I promise.”
Only then did she let out a sigh and relax back against the squabs. At least he would not have to fight her on this.
“You are a curiosity, Georgie,” Damian said after a moment.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why is that?”
“Is it only you and Grace?”
“We have another sister, Glynis, who is twenty. She remained in Italy with my parents and her betrothed.”
“Are all women in Italy like you?”
“Like me in what way?” she asked wearily.
“Independent and single-minded,” he answered.
“I do not know about others but I tend to be more headstrong.”
Damian snorted at the understatement.
“At least more independent than the two women who shared the coach earlier. I can take care of myself and rarely need assistance from anyone. You are the exception because I do not know my way around the Port of London, whereas those two were clearly looking for a gentleman to take care of them.” Georgie cocked her head and smiled.
“You did not seem to have any objection to those two traveling without a chaperone or a man to protect them.”
His face heated, but he couldn’t very well tell Georgie that he had made the same assessment because a gentleman did not discuss courtesans or mistresses with innocent misses.
Instead, he answered, “They were not my concern, though most women must have someone to provide for them since they lack privileges only men enjoy, such as owning a home, and income of their own.”
“It is much the same in Italy,” she admitted with a sigh. “And entirely unfair.”
He did agree with her but there was little he could do.
Damian glanced out when the hackney came to a halt to see that they had arrived at Wyndham’s Mayfair home.
Finally, he would be able to relax, at least until he had to leave in the morning.
After assisting Georgie to the pavement and paying the driver, he approached the main door.
As the knocker had been removed because nobody from the family was in residence, he pounded because he assumed that it would be locked and he had not thought to bring a key.
It was opened a moment later by James, their white-haired, staid butler who had been here since he was a child
“Mr. Wynd, we were not expecting you.” His eyes flickered to Georgie who stood beside him, but James was too practiced and proficient in his position to show emotion or curiosity.
“The decision to travel came on suddenly and we did not have time to alert you in advance,” Damian said.
James stepped back and opened the door further and Damian gestured to Georgie to enter before him.
“I hope it is not too much trouble, but could a bedchamber be prepared for myself and one for our guest and would cook be able to prepare a small meal?”
“Of course, Mr. Wynd, we will see to it right away.” He then motioned to a footman who came forward and picked up the valises.
Damian pointed to the first one. “That is mine. The other belongs to our guest.” The footman nodded then started up the stairs followed by a maid.
The housekeeper met them coming down and all three turned to look at the entry.
“Mr. Wynd has come to London with a guest and requires two rooms,” James announced.
The housekeeper nodded and returned upstairs followed by the footman and maid.
“I will inform cook.” James gave a slight bow then departed.
“Please bring a bottle of wine,” Damian said before he made his way to the library. Georgie paused just at the entrance and took in the room and the shelves of books. “I have no doubt that you will find something better here to read.”
“I am quite happy with the book I chose,” she sniffed and wandered to a settee and settled upon it.
He knew she lied but was too proud to admit such to him. He had seen her eyes close and head bob as if she’d fallen asleep before she quickly awakened, shook her head, and kept reading.
A footman entered a moment later with a bottle of Wynd Wine and Damian retrieved the corkscrew to remove the stopper from the bottle.
“Would you care for a glass of wine?”
“Yes, please.”
After he poured, he handed the glass to her then waited for her to take a drink. Even though he had no part in the production of Wynd Wine, he was still proud of what they produced and believed it to be a superior wine, which was why he waited anxiously for Georgie’s opinion.
She frowned at him, likely wondering what he was about, before she brought the crystal to her lips and took a sip.
“What is your first impression?”
“It is good.”
“Yes, of course. I know that it is. What do you taste? What is it like?”
Again, she frowned. “Sweet and velvety over the tongue, not as sharp nor acidic as we have at home. Why?”
He smiled and handed her the bottle. She took it and read the label. “Wynd Wine. Your family makes wine?”
“We do not only import marble.” He chuckled. “This bottle is from our vineyard in the Cape Colony, Wyndview Farm. We own another in Madeira.”
She blinked at him. “I had no idea.”
“Our ships were not as successful in competing against the East India Company, though they tried, and when one of our ships attempted to sail around the Cape of Good Hope, it received severe damage and had to return to the closest port, which was Cape Town. Many of the crew had been killed or injured and the ship was beyond repair. The story told was that it was a miracle that the ship hadn’t sunk before arriving in port. ”
He’d been fascinated when he’d first been told about how his family had arrived at the Cape Colony and established themselves there.
“My great-grandfather, Simon Wynd, was captaining the ship and while he recovered in the Cape Colony, he fell in love and married a woman whose father owned a vineyard. She was the only child and when his father-in-law died, Simon inherited the estate. A Trade Wynd ship never tried to sail around the Cape again, and we became wine merchants, and increased our import and exports on the Continent and by crossing the Atlantic, but no further.” He took a sip. “Wine is in our blood.”
*
There had been pride in Damian’s voice when he told her of his ancestors. His entire persona changed when he spoke of the wine and family history and was not at all like the unpleasant man she’d met in Southampton.
It was also the first wine that she had ever drunk that was not Italian, and she rather liked it.
Wine was in their blood.
She smiled at his claim and took another sip just before the footman announced dinner.
In the dining room they were greeted by a plump older woman, deep wrinkles about her eyes, and with gray hair who clutched her hands before her, a worried frown above her brow.
“Is something amiss, Cook?” Damian inquired.
“I do apologize, Mr. Wynd. This is not a meal that should be served to you, your family or guests but suited for someone more common. Unfortunately, there is not much in the larder as we were to visit the market tomorrow, and with the hour so late, I feared that you would not want to wait so long for us to purchase meat, and proper vegetables.”
Damian chuckled as a footman came forward to hold Georgie’s chair. “I am certain that whatever you have prepared will be delicious, as your meals always are.”
“I promise that you will have a proper breakfast and supper tomorrow, if you are to remain in Town.”
“I have no doubt that you will provide what you promise,” Damian assured her as he took his seat.
Only then did footmen place large bowls of white soup before them, along with a platter of bread with pats of butter and a dish of various fruits and cheeses.
Whatever the soup was, it smelled delicious as the aroma of celery and onions drifted toward her and caused her stomach to grumble with hunger before she brought a spoonful to her lips.
Georgie nearly moaned as the creamy goodness of butter, milk, potatoes, pork, and onions caressed over her tongue. Rich, warm, and perfect after the day they had. It was comfort. Warm, filling, and relaxing her in a way the wine hadn’t been.
She wasn’t certain if it was because they were both tired or simply hungry, but not a word was spoken between her and Damian as they finished their soup, ate bread, and enjoyed the cheese and fruit.
Oh, she wanted to ask more about his family, but she should also not become too close to him.
They had grown close enough already. Physically at least and more than she had shared with anyone, yet she couldn’t deny the comfort of sleeping against his shoulder, his fragrance…
Georgie would not allow her thoughts to continue because they were dangerous.
She was exhausted, had spent the entire day by his side, often pressed together.
It was no wonder that she had a heightened awareness of him in a way that she’d not experienced with any other male who was still nearly a stranger.
Further, their forced physical proximity to the other was indicative of an intimacy they did not share, even if she had traveled as his wife.
Further, she was certain that he did not care for her and entertaining such thoughts about Damian made her no different than those two women who had shared the coach with them.
They had openly studied him with appreciation, as if they would like to see Damian without any of his clothing, as would she.
She nearly choked on her wine. Where had that thought come from?
“Would you please ask cook to see me?” Damian requested the footman who had hovered near the entry.
Why would he want her now? Had he been displeased? The woman had explained why the meal was simple, not that Georgie minded because she thought it perfect.
The door between the dining room and likely kitchens slowly opened as Cook entered, her head down.
“I commend you on what is likely the best soup I have ever tasted,” Damian announced. “I do hope it is served again. I promise that nothing was lacking in this meal and I appreciate that you were able to provide us with something delicious without warning and I will inform my brother.”
Georgie suspected that the cook was about to collapse from relief when her body nearly went slack.
“I would like you to know that my guest…Miss Georgie Wylde, and I will be leaving shortly after sunrise to travel to the Port of London, but I anticipate that we will return later in the day and stay at least another night.”
“I will make certain there is something for you to break your fast before you depart,” Cook assured him.
“It is also possible that when we return tomorrow that we may have a second guest.”
“You will have a second guest,” Georgie corrected. They must find Grace tomorrow, or she was not certain what she might do.
“It is a possibility,” he emphasized.
“I will make certain there is enough prepared for you and two guests,” Cook said before she quickly left them, likely because she did not want to witness an argument.
Damian may not believe that they would locate Grace tomorrow but Georgie would not allow him to leave the port until they had.
Damian pushed back from the table and stood. “I intend to enjoy another glass of wine before I retire. Would you care to join me?”
She looked up and into his blue eyes, uncertain. If she were to be honest, the first had relaxed her far more than she had been in weeks, and should one share another glass of wine with a bachelor, in his home, without a chaperone?
He was only here under duress, and his own obligation to see her protected, therefore, she had no fear that he may be bent on seduction.
Except her thoughts had already wandered to the most improper…
Oh, dear, she was very tired and if she remained to drink another glass of wine, she might very well…