Page 78 of This Earl of Mine

Water streamed down his face in rivulets, and his shirt clung to him, almost transparent in the moonlight. With a grin of triumph, he lifted her up on tiptoe against him, hard against his chest. His kiss was savage, joyous, and Georgie responded in kind. Her legs went weak, and she clung to him like a barnacle as their tongues tangled and danced. A wild, exultant fever warmed her blood, and her head started to spin.

Benedict drew back, panting, his eyes glittering in the darkness, and Georgie opened her mouth to tell him exactly how she felt about him. “Benedict, I—”

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her admission of love.

“Wylde! You’ve brought me my submarine. Good man!”

Admiral Sir George Cockburn strode along the shadowed wharf. Benedict saluted the older man, and when he lowered his arm, the admiral caught his hand and shook it enthusiastically. He turned to Georgie and did the same to her. “And with the help of this young fellow. Well done lad, you’ve done a fine job here tonight. You have the Admiralty’s deepest thanks.”

Georgie had lost her cap somewhere along the way, but her hair was still tied back in a low sailor’s pigtail. She kept her head down, praying that the admiral wouldn’t recognize her.

Benedict indicated the sinking vessel. “You may need to drain it out.”

The admiral shrugged. “A bilge pump will sort that. What matters is that we’ve stopped that blackguard Johnstone from carrying out his dastardly plan. Exceptional work, fellows. Invaluable service. Rest assured, I shall be recommending both of you to His Royal Highness for a reward.” He turned to Georgie. “What’s your name, lad?”

Georgie groaned inwardly and tried to pitch her voice an octave lower than normal. “Um, George?”

Her wobbly baritone didn’t fool the admiral for a moment. He gasped at Benedict in shock. “Is that agirl?”

Since further subterfuge was impossible, Benedict stepped forward and made the introductions. “It is indeed. Admiral Cockburn, may I present Miss Georgiana Caversteed, owner of Caversteed Shipping.”

Curtseying would have been ridiculous, given her attire, so Georgie straightened, met the admiral’s eye, and inclined her head in greeting.

“Good Lord. Well, I never,” the admiral blustered. “What is the meaning of this?”

Benedict was unfazed. “I asked Miss Caversteed to accompany me. She has an exceptional grasp of allthings maritime, as I believe tonight’s success has demonstrated. I had complete faith she could accomplish the mission.”

Her heart swelled with pride at his praise.

“Most irregular, sir,” the admiral muttered. He sent Georgie a paternal glare, his white whiskers twitching. “Does your mother know you’re gallivantin’ all over town dressed as a powder monkey, my girl?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Benedict spoke first. “If I might have a word?” He sent her a wicked, conspiratorial look, and she justknewhe was about to do something scandalous.

“I should tell you, sir, that Miss Caversteed has done me the very great honor of agreeing to become my wife. I trust I can rely on your discretion?”

Georgie’s gasp was drowned out by the admiral’s jovial chuckle. “Married, eh? Well, congratulations, Wylde. Capital.” He pumped Benedict’s hand again.

Georgie stifled a snort. Discretion? She didn’t believe for one moment that the admiral could keep such momentous news to himself. He wouldn’t be able to resist telling his wife, and Clara Cockburn was the worst gossip in London. The news would be all over thetonby breakfast. Benedict might as well have taken out a full-page announcement inThe Times.

The admiral nodded. “You look as if you could do with a change of clothes, Wylde. There are some spare uniforms in the mess if you’d care to use them.” He indicated a series of dark buildings behind them. “And no doubt you’re keen to get the lady home. I’ll arrange for a carriage for you.” He turned and strode down the dock.

Georgie lost no time in rounding on Benedict. “Why did you go and tell him that? Now there’s bound to be a dreadful scandal.”

He gave an infuriating shrug. “There’ll be a scandalwhatever happens. It’s your fault. You were the one who insisted on an adventure.”

She was about to berate him some more when he shifted into the light and she caught sight of his shirtsleeve. It was stained pink with blood. “Oh! I forgot. You’re hurt!” She reached for him, but he stepped away from her questing hands. He tugged the neck of his shirt off his shoulder and inspected the damage.

“It’s nothing, look. Just a graze. Not even a through-and-through.”

It was as he said. The bullet had gouged a deep furrow on the outside edge of his bicep. The torn flesh was ugly, still seeping blood, but it was better than Georgie had feared. “Well, you still need to clean it out and bandage it,” she said. “That river water is revolting. It could easily become infected.”

He untied the neckerchief from around his throat and handed it to her. “You do it. I can’t with one hand.”

Her fingers shook as she secured the square of linen tightly around his upper arm. The touch of his skin made her shiver. On impulse, she slid her hand over his collarbone and then flattened her palm over his heart. His pulse beat, strong and steady beneath her fingers, and she bit back a sudden sob of relief. “You took a bullet meant for me!”

He frowned down at her and gave a dismissive shrug, as if embarrassed. “I would have done the same for Alex. Or Seb.”

“You could have died,” she persisted, her voice a little quivery.

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