Close to the Wind

by Zana Bell

  Georgiana frowned at her hand, placing her fingers on one card, then changing her mind and pulling out another instead. She lost the first game which made the other players very fond of her and she was plied with good advice from all sides. The second game she played with more confidence and when she beat them in the third game, Harry heard their delighted praise. They were all immensely proud of their pupil’s quick progress. Then a young man appeared at her elbow and begged she join their table for a few hands. She glanced at Harry. By now he was resigned to his designated part and grunted consent, clearly showing that all this fuss over his sister was ridiculous.

  For the rest of the evening, though he pretended indifference, he watched her progress around the room, admiring the deft way she lost sufficient numbers of games so as not to arouse suspicion while steadily accumulating a handsome profit. Her frequent moves to other tables meant that no one realised just how much she had actually won over the course of the evening.

  Harry’s skills were more obvious and though he passed off his wins as a lucky streak, few who played him were deceived and he attracted the higher players, the more hardened gamblers. However, he was not out to amass a fortune and when he decided he’d won enough, he made his way to Georgiana’s side.

  She glanced up at him. Tonight her remarkable eyes were the same dark blue as the ocean under Sally’s keel, and now they were alight with gaming’s challenges and success. Her smile was dazzling. Despite his still smouldering fury, he couldn’t help smiling back. She had been outrageous to come but clearly the night belonged to her. As soon as her game finished she rose, gathered her winnings into her pouch then thanked the men most warmly for their assistance. They all made their bows with fervent hopes that they might see her on the morrow.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ said Harry in quelling tones, ‘we’ll be leaving at cock crow. But thank you for allowing my sister to play with you. I only hope she hasn’t plagued you too much.’

  He was assured most heartily that she had not and it was only after some difficulty that Harry extracted his sister from her numerous admirers.

  Out on the street she peeped up at him. ‘Did you have a successful evening, Harry?’

  ‘No thanks to you. You put me clean off my game,’ he said, pulling her hand through his arm.

  She leaned into him. ‘Pooh, you shouldn’t have taken my arrival so badly.’

  ‘Badly! Do you know how ugly things might have got?’

  ‘But you were there to protect me.’

  He wanted to shake her, he really did. After he’d kissed her, as thoroughly and soundly as she deserved. ‘The sooner I get you to your real brother’s protection, the better. You are nothing but trouble.’

  Merriment brimmed in her eyes. ‘You haven’t met Charlie. He’d have thought it a splendid idea – would probably have thought of it first, in fact!’

  ‘The more I know of you and your brother,’ said Harry roughly, ‘the more your poor aunt has all my sympathies. You are entirely incorrigible, Georgie.’

  She laughed and blushed as though he’d paid her a compliment and he bit back a smile. It was impossible to dent her buoyant sense of triumph and suddenly he found he didn’t want to. Spirit like hers was all too rare. Images chased through his mind of pressing her hard up against the side of the building they were passing and covering her beautiful shoulders and neck with kisses, firing her spirit even more.

  When they reached their accommodation, however, he quenched all such thoughts in a superlative demonstration of self-control. Grabbing his bedroll and big overcoat, he headed for the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To the stables.’

  ‘Harry! We’ve already talked about this.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘You’re being needlessly scrupulous.’

  He paused, looking down into her eyes. There was an expression in them he couldn’t place. All mischief had disappeared and for a second he thought he saw a woman’s invitation there. Which only made it ten times worse.

  ‘I can’t stay.’

  He removed her hand from his sleeve, then unable to resist, he pressed the inside of her wrist to his lips. He wanted to lick it, nibble it but let it go with a soft kiss. He had to leave, right now, before it was too late.

  The door closed after Harry and for a second, Georgiana just stared at it, cradling the wrist which still burned with the imprint of his lips. Part of her yearned to run after him, pull him back. The other part let him go. Now was not quite the right moment. He was too torn, too conflicted. She sank down onto the bed, feeling both the exultance and the strange deep calm of victory. Finally, she had rattled Harry Trent out of every last vestige of his composure. Thank you, Consuela. But it was more than that. Something had indeed shifted. For the first time in their relationship, she felt the sense of power equalise. She was now as sure of his feelings as she was of hers. Tonight she’d shattered his defences. Now all she had to do was storm his scruples, the last stronghold of his heart.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  They were up before dawn, slipping through the silent streets so that no one would see Trent leave, not with a glamorous young sister, but with a boy with his hair too long.

  ‘You look tired,’ Georgiana ventured, glancing at Harry from under the brim of her hat.

  ‘There wasn’t much hay so I didn’t sleep well.’

  It hadn’t been the hardness of the boards, though, that had kept him awake a large part of the night. It was something far, far worse. In the dark, fetid air of the stable, he had finally confronted the truth. He was a man in love. He didn’t want it. Heaven knew he didn’t need this added complication to his life. But Georgiana had never let the convenience of others dictate her actions. She had just come in and stolen his heart. It was as simple – and damnable – as that.

  As a consequence, life suddenly arrowed down into a single goal. First and foremost, he had to prove his innocence. There was no question now of going on the run, should this venture be unsuccessful. He could never condemn Georgie to such a life.

  Moreover, he knew now that if he did prove his legitimacy, he would have to take up his title and estates. A man had to have something more to offer a wife than life aboard a leaky old ship. But if he did that, everything would change. It was hard to begin to imagine what his life would be. Yet the thought of losing Georgiana was intolerable. Never had he so much to gain, or lose, in his life.

  And because he loved her, Harry resolved not to talk of his feelings until he could come to her as a free man, a man without the shadow of the gallows hanging over him. The road ahead was still fraught with danger. Though he was sure Tom had not overtaken them, he was still out there, and Harry knew Mellors would stop at nothing to complete his appointed task – even murder. Harry couldn’t embroil Georgiana any further. He would deliver her to the safety of her brother’s arms, then go on alone in his quest. When – if – he was successful, then he would return to Georgie. Until then, the least said, the better. Only a cad would wake passions in an innocent girl then leave her to mourn his death.

  Such had been his resolve last night, but it was proving devilishly difficult to maintain his friendly calm as they rode side by side.

  Georgiana, too, was unusually thoughtful. The minx of the night before had been packed away with that outrageous dress. He glanced often at her but she rode steadily on, hat pulled low over eyes that stared only at the road ahead.

  Why had she gone quiet? Had she retreated in embarrassment – either over her behaviour or his kiss? He didn’t think so. There had been no shrinking shyness when they’d met at dawn. In fact, there’d been an almost tangible sense of resolution about her.

  He did not know what to make of this new, poised, contemplative individual, but this was one of the reasons he loved her. Georgiana was not one woman, nor ever would be. A quotation tickled. What had Shakespeare sai
d about Cleopatra? Something about age not withering her nor custom spoiling her infinite variety. He liked that. A man might be annoyed, frustrated, even infuriated by Georgiana, but he would never be bored. That seemed a very fair deal.

  Georgiana’s introspection only lifted at the end of their very long day’s ride, as they finally drew into Dunedin. She stretched in her saddle and rose in her stirrups to look about her. ‘Isn’t it beautiful.’

  ‘Stunning.’

  The harbour spread before them, blue and luminescent as a stained-glass window in the early evening. Steep hills of brilliant green tumbled to the shoreline. The air was cooler down here, the bite of ice underlying it; a reminder the Antarctic was not so very much further south.

  ‘It doesn’t seem fair that New Zealand should have quite so many beautiful corners tucked away,’ Georgiana remarked. Her contemplative self was almost visibly peeling away as she became animated, as always, by a new place to explore. That was another aspect about her Harry loved. He realised too that she must be looking forward to a reunion with Charles. His own role with her was nearly done. He was surprised by the pain he felt at such a thought.

  Dunedin, heart of the gold rush, was both higgledy-piggledy and clearly booming. The streets ran up the sides of impossibly steep slopes and there was every stage of building to be seen. Muddy foundations sat next to beautiful stone buildings that looked like they might have been there for centuries. Other wooden buildings appeared to have been flung up within a few days. There were solid, worthy-looking banks, some elegant shop frontages, a large number of hotels, ranging from the grand to the deplorable, and numerous bars which were loud with custom.

  Even more than Christchurch, this was a town of young men, generally very disreputable. They wore shabby clothes for the most part and many sported whiskers that had clearly not seen a razor for months. Harry, with his unshaven cheeks, looked right at home with this crew. Some hurried on seemingly urgent business, their strides eager and determined. Others lolled against street lamps, smoking and eyeing up the women who passed by with baskets of shopping, pretending they did not notice the hot looks that followed them. There were road stalls and wagons and newspaper boys calling out the evening headlines.

  The town reeked of energy, although when Georgiana shared this observation with Harry, he suggested the reek emanated from the town’s evidently poor sanitation.

  But Georgiana was not to be put off. She was charmed by the town, though she could not say why. She relished the sense of jaunty opportunity and reckless energy that enveloped the town.

  ‘We’ll find a hotel for tonight,’ said Harry as they threaded their way up what appeared to be the main street. ‘What do you say to a hot bath and a decent meal, Georgie?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking of little else.’

  This was not true. Very different thoughts had occupied Georgiana all day. The thought of a bath sounded like heaven now, however. She twisted in her saddle to ease her back. ‘It’s time for me to become Georgiana again, isn’t it?’

  She cast him a look, but he was studying the double-storied hotel in front of them and his reply was non-committal. ‘Yes, it’ll be easier to ask around for Charlie. What do you think about that hotel?’

  Georgiana leaned back in her saddle and pushed her hat back as she took in the wide flight of stairs and elegant balconies. ‘Can we afford it?’

  ‘We can, thanks to the gambling skills of my sister.’

  She laughed but protested, ‘You made far more than I.’

  ‘I can cover all the necessities. Your winnings tip us into luxury. Come on, what do you say? Shall we treat ourselves? It may be our last evening together.’

  He was planning to leave her again. She’d suspected as much during their ride today. He had been quite unreachable. Despair hollowed her resolution but she forced her voice to stay bright. ‘In that case, yes indeed.’

  ‘Good. Fortunately, it seems a popular hotel. With so many people coming and going, no one will notice a lad going in and a lady coming out.’

  Georgiana wasn’t sure about that, but Harry proved to be right. Another scruffy youth went entirely unnoticed and she was able to slip into the room Harry had secured for her. For a second she stood still, hardly able to cope with the seeming opulence after the past days on the road, the past months at sea. The bed was large with a red coverlet and fat pillows. The curtains were thick and likewise claret-coloured. There was a carpet and rather bad watercolours of flowers on the walls.

  For a second she thought she did not deserve such a splendid room. Then, with a shiver of delighted surprise, she realised that yes, she did. She had paid for this room out of her own winnings. She was a woman of independent means, even if only for a short time. It felt surprisingly good and she could feel her tired spine straighten as she walked over to the dressing table. One glance in the mirror, however, swept away any feelings of accomplishment.

  With a moan of horror, she tossed the hat aside. Her hair lay in dusty, sweat-flattened curls. Despite the brim, she had caught the sun, her complexion colouring in a most unladylike way. Even worse, when she looked closer, she was sure she saw freckles! There was no time to despair, however. She needed to get ready for tonight.

  She had been thinking about it most of the day. The time for subterfuge and masquerade was over. No longer was she Miss Bellingham, Master Miller or Miss Trent. If tonight was to be their last night, then she wanted Harry Trent to spend it with Georgiana da Silva.

  When they’d met at dawn, Georgiana had seen instantly that her plan had not worked. She may have knocked Harry off kilter but it was quite clear to her that he’d regained his equilibrium overnight. The Harry who greeted her was as charming – and as infuriatingly controlled – as ever. This was the Harry who sailed the seven seas alone. If she wasn’t careful, she’d land up with a millinery shop, a husband and a baby named after its godfather. Well, not this time, Harry Trent!

  Georgiana had work to do; woman’s work and it would begin with summoning a maid. With stern resolve, she tugged the tasselled bell pull before beginning to divest herself, once and for all, of her male garb.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  When Harry knocked at Georgiana’s door a few hours later, he was staggered by the stunning young woman who opened it. Georgiana was wearing her green silk and her eyes reflected the same wild-sea colour. She stood tall, her hair shining gold-brown, her face sun-kissed, shoulders white and smooth, the griffin standing in proud relief just above the neckline that skimmed the upper mounds of her breasts.

  ‘My God, Georgie, you are beautiful.’

  The words slipped out before he could stop them. After all his resolutions not to declare his feelings, he was perilously close to revealing his love to her.

  Georgiana blushed but met his eyes. ‘You are looking splendid yourself – but then, you always do.’

  The urge to press her backwards into her room, kicking the door behind them, was almost overpowering. To offset the air that seemed to crackle between them, he said, ‘And who are you being tonight?’

  Her head lifted and she looked straight into his eyes. ‘Tonight I am me. Georgiana da Silva.’

  A strange happiness filled him; like the ending of a journey – or perhaps the beginning of one. He made a formal bow. ‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss da Silva. I believe I had the fleeting pleasure of meeting you once in Madeira.’

  Her smile was blinding and she gave a small nod as if to acknowledge that he hadn’t disappointed her. ‘Indeed you are right, but what a long time ago that seems.’

  He grinned back as he extended his arm to her. ‘I see I will have to ready myself for more possible skirmishes with ardent admirers tonight. Is this to become a habit, Miss da Silva, that I must continually keep eager young blades at bay?’

  She laughingly disclaimed and together they made their
way down the stairs into the dining room. Being strangers in town, Harry was more than happy for people to mistake them as man and wife, especially as a quick glance informed him that he was indeed with the most beautiful woman in the room. A waiter darted forward, admiration of Georgiana clear in his freckled face as he led them to a secluded corner behind one column. Heads turned as they walked past and Harry knew it was because of the stately young woman on his arm. Georgiana seemed unaware. This surprised him as he was used to the self-conscious manner of beauties. Then it dawned on him that years of seeing herself as plain and awkward had left Georgiana refreshingly unaffected. Last night she’d been the gorgeous but impossibly disingenuous younger sister. Tonight, as herself, Georgiana was in a class all of her own.

  She settled herself into her chair, sitting tall and graceful even though she must ache, as he did, after the long days in the saddle and nights of sleeping rough. There was nothing even remotely tired in the eagerness with which she perused the menu.

  ‘I’m so starving I could eat a horse.’

  ‘Given the nature of this town, no doubt it can be arranged. In fact, I suspect half the dishes on the menu may not be all that they seem.’

  She made a small comical grimace but objected, ‘Given the price you paid for our own horses, I very much doubt it. What are you going to have?’

  They took their time over making their choices. The range of dishes seemed decadent and the food, when it came, was surprisingly well-cooked.

  ‘I checked when I was booking our rooms and they assured me the chef was one of the best in the town. I wasn’t sure what standards they were measuring by, but it seems Dunedin can boast a few decent meals at any rate. And I have a treat for afterwards. We are going to the theatre – I hope you aren’t feeling too tired.’