Chapter Thirteen
“No thank you,” Georgie answered before she rushed out of the dining room and turned for the stairs as if she could not get away from him quickly enough.
Georgie was more of a curiosity than before. So many emotions had flitted through her brown eyes and Damian had no idea what she had been thinking before she declined his offer.
He paused at the foot of the stairs as he watched her climb them, her delightful bum swayed in the most feminine manner. He did not have to see her in trousers to know the exact roundness.
And it was a delightful bottom.
Damian shook his head and wandered into the library.
What the blazes had he been thinking? Yes, he had wanted to share a glass of wine with Georgie but the request had not been made from politeness.
He wanted to ask all the questions that had come to him as they journeyed from Southampton to London but could not because others were with them.
Questions that he hadn’t asked while they dined but should have.
Why hadn’t he?
He pinched the bridge of his nose then refilled his wine glass. He had no answer.
Then again, she hadn’t spoken either.
He also wanted to return to the subject of baking. She was quite confident in her skills, and he had believed her. After all, she had practically been raised in a bakery.
He wanted Georgie to bake something for him. He didn’t care if it was a loaf of bread or a meat pie because he suspected that it would probably be one of the best things that he had ever tasted.
Maybe that came from knowing that she had been the one to create it.
Damian sank into a chair. Now he was getting maudlin.
Georgie was only a temporary person in his life. He should not be thinking about her bum, or any other part of her anatomy, or how pretty she was, or how he would like her to bake for him.
He shook his head again.
When had his attraction for her developed? And it wasn’t so simple. It was more desire—a need. Further, it was completely unexpected and odd.
Georgie was not like any woman he had ever pursued.
Not that he had ever courted anyone because that would never happen.
But when seeking a mistress or a lover for a night, they more resembled the blonde- and auburn-haired women who had joined them on the mail coach.
Not someone with an air of innocence even though maturity accompanied her being.
He always sought someone he knew would know how to please him, not at all shy, practiced in the skills of sensuality that he could pleasure in return.
Except, it had been Georgie whom he had wanted today…and tonight.
But it was a desire that he could not and would not act upon.
If he did, what kind of protector would that make him?
He was here to help her find her sister then safely put them on a passenger ship back to Italy to never been seen again.
If he seduced her, ruined her, that would change his life as well as hers.
He had an orderly, controlled import-export business in Southampton that he needed to run.
Georgie worked in a bakery in Carrera, Italy, for her father and grandfather.
Their worlds could not be more different and he would not ruin her future nor his own.
Tomorrow would be a long day, another one spent with Georgie, that would require that he be rested. Therefore, he finished his wine then climbed the stairs to his own chamber where he stripped out of his clothing and fell into bed.
All he needed was to sleep through the night and tomorrow he would awaken with renewed determination to find Grace. He was also certain that in the light of day any desire that he may have entertained tonight would be gone.
It was that simple.
He had also been wrong.
Sleep did not remove Georgie from his mind despite his exhaustion, and the two glasses of wine and warm soup that should have sent him into a dreamless sleep failed to do the job.
Instead, she visited him. Smiling, laughing, and sometimes scolding and often stubborn.
Many times, she had been barely dressed as she teased and taunted.
And each time Damian came awake, his body ached with need.
Still, he would not accept that it was Georgie he wanted. She just happened to be the one who had been by his side constantly and the fact that he had not had a mistress or lover in nearly four months.
When Damian reached the dining room, breakfast had already been set out on the sideboard and the newssheets that he enjoyed reading when he broke his fast were at the corner of the table.
He filled a plate, poured a cup of coffee, and read as he ate.
When he heard Georgie come down the stairs, he set the paper aside, then reconsidered as he took in her appearance.
Today she wore a dress of pale yellow, trimmed in white lace, a bodice scooped lower than the one the day before, yet still modest. Her brown eyes were bright and there was an anxious smile on her bow-shaped lips, and even though her hair was back as it had been yesterday, a few curls escaped and framed her face.
Had they been present as they rode from Southampton?
Certainly, he would have noticed.
Not that any of that mattered. What did was that she was quite fetching and desirable and his dreams flooded his memory.
He should not lust after Georgie.
He would not!
With that thought, and determination, he picked up the newssheets and attempted to continue reading while he reminded himself that he would not seduce an innocent miss that he was supposed to assist and protect.
*
Georgie ate a meal of eggs, porridge, and ham without conversation, then drank a cup of tea, eager to be on her way, while Damian took his time and read one of the newssheets stacked at the corner of the dining room table.
The sun had been up for nearly an hour and there was no reason why they should not be on their way to the Port of London right now, therefore she focused on Damian and hoped that he could feel the weight of her stare through the paper.
A moment later he folded it and looked at her, his blue eyes as icy as they had been the first time they had met. He then picked up another newssheet and continued to read.
He had actually been pleasant at times yesterday but now possessed the same personality as he had in Southampton.
Maybe the wine that had been in his blood had soured.
Georgie blew out a sigh and poured herself another cup of tea.
She would just leave him to his reading and venture out on her own, if she knew which direction to go.
She wished she would have brought her map.
Then again, she could return upstairs, dress as a man, hail a hackney, and have the driver take her to the Port of London.
Except, she wouldn’t know where to begin to look and the reason that she had agreed to allow Damian to come along yesterday.
Maybe that was why he was in a foul mood. If so, then it was his own fault. He could have stayed in Southampton.
Damian set the newssheet aside and stood. “Shall we leave?”
“Yes,” Georgie said between clenched teeth. He knew how important it was that they arrive as early as possible—before her sister was lost forever, but it was if they were scheduled for nothing more than a stroll.
When they stepped outside, Damian hailed a hackney and they were quickly on their way.
Damian turned his face to the window, a clear indication that he did not want to speak with her.
Well, she had no interest in conversing with him.
With a sniff, Georgie turned her attention to the window beside her and beyond.
Rows of houses, similar to Wyndham’s London home, gave way to busy streets filled with hackneys, carriages and horses.
People walked along the street, both gentry and commoners but what was most noticeable was the noise.
Voices, bells, carriage wheels on the street, vendors selling their wares.
Everyone was going about their daily activities while she rode by.
It was a bit overwhelming. Then again, she had never been in a city this large and wasn’t certain she could even walk from one end to the other in a single day. She was also certain that she would not want to live in such a place.
“How do you even know where to look?” she asked as they neared the port. The scenery had changed, water was near and ships could be glimpsed in the distance.
“We have a warehouse that Trade Wynd uses when we must bring cargo to London. We prefer Southampton but sometimes London cannot be avoided. That is where we will go first since we have two employees who may be able to provide direction.”
He answered her question, explained, all without looking at her.
Damian was not only unpleasant but rude as well.
When the carriage came to a halt, Damian stepped out and assisted her before escorting her inside a building with no windows except for those above the first floor. The door they had entered simply had the words Trade Wynd on a sign hanging above.
What was beyond was an empty, cavernous warehouse.
On the far wall there appeared to be wide doors, not currently open.
She assumed the River Thames was on the other side and that this was where the ships unloaded whatever exports they brought in.
To the right was a set of wooden stairs that Damian climbed and she followed.
It opened to a platform that apparently held the London offices since two men were present, both seated at desks beside the windows.
The room was sparse and the men were relaxed, reading newssheets, not working.
Was there nothing for them to do since the warehouse was rarely used?
She would hate to have a position that she was required to be at every day, or most days, but with nothing to keep her occupied.
When one of them glanced up to note her and Damian, he folded the newssheet and stood. “Mr. Wynd, we were not expecting you.”
“Is a shipment expected?” The other man asked as he stood. “If so, we will need to make other arrangements.”
“No. Whatever agreement you have made for use of the warehouse is of no consequence.” Damian waved away his concern. “I am here on another matter. Which passenger ships are bound for America and will be sailing soon or may have already, within the last sennight.”
The two men frowned. “We have a list, including the other ships and cargos you have asked us to track.” One man said as he opened a cabinet and withdrew a ledger. There were several others stacked within.
“Why is America so important?” the other man asked. “Fisher was here the other day asking for the same information.”
Hope rose in Georgie’s breast. “Was he with anyone?”
“A woman who kept close to him.”
“What was her name?” Georgie asked.
“He never said,” the man with the ledger answered.
“What did she look like?”
“Brown hair, brown eyes, about the same height as you.”
It was the same description she had received from everyone and it also described Grace. They would find her today she just knew it.
“Did Fisher tell you why he needed a passenger ship?” Damian asked.
An explanation had been offered from the man Fisher had shared a set of rooms in Southampton, but she couldn’t believe it was an accurate reason, and perhaps Damian hadn’t believed it either or he wouldn’t be asking a question for which he already knew the answer.
“Fisher and the woman were determined to sail to America but they only had enough funds for one passenger ticket. Fisher hoped to be hired on a ship that would also take the woman.”
The destination hadn’t changed. “Why America?” Georgie asked. She could not understand why the two would want to sail so far away.
“He did not tell us,” the man with the ledger answered. “Nor did we ask.”
“Young love,” the other man scoffed. “Likely with dreams of setting out and finding their fortune in distant lands.”
Oh, Grace would be susceptible to such a romantic notion. Georgie just hoped they found her before she set out on such a foolish journey.
“But none would hire him on,” the man with the ledger said.
“What do you mean?” Damian asked. “How do you know?”
“He came back and told us and wanted to know which port would be best to find passenger ships to America,” the guy with the ledger answered. “We told him Liverpool. More sail out of there than here.”
Georgie did not even know where Liverpool was. When she was studying the maps, she was only concerned with a route from Southampton to London and did not recall seeing a town called Liverpool.
“He thanked us and said that they would travel to Liverpool.”
“And this is five days ago?” Damian asked.
“Thereabouts,” the man answered.
“How far away is Liverpool?” she asked.
Damian blew out a sigh and shook his head, almost as if he was defeated, but Georgie was not about to give up
“Approximately two hundred miles,” he finally answered.
She did not want to get on another mail coach, but she would if it would take her to Grace.
“Then I am off to Liverpool. Thank you for the information.” She turned and marched out of the office, down the stairs, and out to the hackney Damian had paid to wait.
The only thing she didn’t know was whether Damian would insist on going with her or if she would finally be free of him.