His gun was ruined as well, or so he expected, though he hadn’t looked at it recently. He drew it out of his pocket. “I will go with you.” He walked toward the door but stopped and turned. “I am not certain it is necessary that Miss Mirabelle replace her gun at this time. It isn’t as if she will need it.”

  Trent’s eyebrows shot up and his lips turned up at one corner.

  “I am certain you are mistaken.” Elizabeth offered.

  “I assume Miss Mirabelle only had it with her because of the activities of last night, to protect herself if needed, am I correct?” He directed the question to Geneviève.

  “Those are the reasons I had it last night,” she answered. “However, I never leave the house without it on my person and I would appreciate a replacement posthaste.”

  Jonathan knew his jaw dropped, yet he could not stop himself. She always had a gun? What more didn’t he know about his intended. Of course, she didn’t believe she was to be his wife, but she would become used to the idea eventually. Though this business of carrying a pistol would change. She was liable to hurt herself or someone else. She was dearly in need of care and then perhaps she would settle into the role best suited for her.

  “Also, my watch is ruined.” She unpinned a small watch from the inside of her coat. “I hate not knowing what time it is.”

  He would happily replace her watch, the gun was another matter entirely. Surely Trent would not give in to this request.

  “I’ll have a tray delivered to the room,” Trent announced. “And, secure another room for the two of us.” He indicated to Bridges. “We should all get rest before tonight.”

  Once the men were gone, Geneviève sank to the bed with a sigh. Bridges was the most aggravating man she had ever encountered, next to Bentley. She tilted her head and studied the ceiling, yellowed with age. Actually, he was just as bad as Bentley. It was good that they had not continued what they had started or he would be her husband, ruling her every action, keeping her in the house, dictating what she could and could not do. It would be a miserable life.

  “Tell me,” Elizabeth began when she sat down beside her. “How did you and Bridges pass the night?”

  Geneviève leveled herself up on her elbows. “We waited for our clothing to dry and rested.”

  Elizabeth hitched a brow. “You were unclothed,” she reminded her.

  “We remained wrapped in blankets.” Heat infused her cheeks. It wasn’t a lie, they did remain beneath the blankets, at least partially.

  Elizabeth turned more fully toward her. “John will demand more information. He will not let this go until he is assured nothing improper occurred.”

  Her face grew hotter. “It is none of his business, or anyone else’s what occurred between me and Bridges.”

  A smile quirked at Elizabeth’s lips. “So, something did happen.”

  Goodness, could her face get any hotter? Perhaps she was coming down with a fever from being frozen in the Thames last night. “It shouldn’t be a concern to anyone,” she bit out.

  “I agree if you can answer one question.”

  Geneviève prayed it was one she could answer honestly. She knew as well as anyone that if her family learned of everything she and Bridges had done her life would be over. At least the freedom she currently enjoyed would be over, as well as any happiness. “That depends on the question.”

  Elizabeth looked into her eyes. Any smile was gone. “Are you still a virgin?”

  She couldn’t believe anyone would actually come out and ask such a question. Then again, given the circumstances, she understood Elizabeth’s concern. And, had she and Bridges not talked at the exact moment, she might be offering a different answer. “Yes. I am.”

  Her sister-in-law relaxed. “Then there is no reason for anyone to be concerned.”

  “If only my brothers felt the same,” Geneviève grumbled.

  Elizabeth smiled warmly. “I’ll convince John that it is best nobody knows. It will only be more difficult for you if they learn and Bentley will surely take any choice of your future from your hands.”

  Of that, she didn’t doubt. “Thank you.”

  Geneviève bit her bottom lip and looked at her sister-in-law. One question did plague her but did she dare ask?

  “What?” Elizabeth asked.

  “There is something I am curious about but I am afraid you might take issue.”

  Elizabeth straightened, her face hardening with concern. “Did something happen between the two of you that you are not sure of?” She grasped Geneviève’s hand. “Perhaps you are not as innocent…”

  Geneviève laughed and pulled away. “I’ve been told the mechanics of what it takes to rid a lady of her virginity and that did not happen.”

  Elizabeth blew out a sigh. “Then what is your question?”

  Geneviève bit her lip again. How did she ask? What if Elizabeth realized she had seen Jonathan without his clothing? Would she then demand that a marriage must take place? “You must promise never to say a word to anyone, especially any of my brothers.”

  Elizabeth hitched a brow and studied her.

  “Please?”

  Her sister-in-law gave a quick nod. “I fear I might regret this, but go on.”

  Geneviève sat further up and plucked at the threadbare blanket. “You see, um…, Bridges and I had a bit of a spat…” Goodness, it was warm in here but she didn’t dare tell Elizabeth everywhere he had kissed. “About marriage.” Oh dear, how much to tell.

  “Go on.”

  “That isn’t the part that matters.” She decided to just skip ahead and leave out the pertinent details of where Bridges had been lying when the question was posed. “That is when he left.”

  “Left?”

  “Yes, he went outside and didn’t return, so I went in search of him.”

  “Where did he go?” Elizabeth asked slowly.

  Geneviève pursed her lips remembering what she had seen. “He was only at the side of the cottage, but it was strange and that is where I am confused.” She tilted her head, trying to come up with the right words before she described what Bridges had been doing. “At first I thought he simply needed to relieve himself, but I don’t think that is what he was doing.”

  Elizabeth’s face was red and she glanced away. Oh dear, she had somehow embarrassed her sister-in-law. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything, but the curiosity was too much. “He said it wasn’t my concern.”

  “I think more occurred between the two of you than you have let on,” she began and then cleared her throat. “But the fact that Jonathan was doing what you described sets me at ease about your innocence.”

  “How?”

  “You may understand the mechanics of making love, but a few pertinent facts are missing from your knowledge.”

  She turned more fully toward Elizabeth. “What?” What had her mother not told her?

  Elizabeth’s face grew red and she opened her mouth to speak a few times but quickly closed it as if she wasn’t sure.

  They both jerked at the crisp knock on the door and Elizabeth practically jumped from the bed and rushed to answer it. A maid entered bearing a tray and set it on a small table. The smell of fresh bread wafted toward Geneviève and she pulled herself from the bed. After pouring herself and Elizabeth a cup of tea, they sat to enjoy a warm yet filling breakfast of eggs, porridge, and bread. As she finished off the last of her meal, Geneviève’s eyes grew heavy. She was tired and had not slept much the evening before but Elizabeth still hadn’t answered her question.

  “You should sleep,” Elizabeth suggested before yawning herself. “As should I.”

  Geneviève nodded and stood. “You never explained what Bridges was doing.”

  Her sister-in-law blew out a breath. “I think it is best that the question is answered later.”

  She stopped in the center of the room and turned toward Elizabeth. “Why?”

  “Your husband can explain once you are married.” She crawled into one side of the bed. “Or, you might not have any questions after your wedding night.” She turned over, putting her back to Geneviève. “Get some rest.”

  Since Elizabeth wasn’t going to answer, she would just need to ask Juliette or Hélène. Surely they would tell her.

  Geneviève didn’t relish sleeping in her clothing but it wasn’t as if she had anything to change into. She shrugged out of the coat, waistcoat and pulled off her boots. All of her clothing was still damp from the swim in the Thames and she laid them before the fire. Garbed only in her long shirt, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers to her chin.

  As much as she wished to sleep, her mind remained alert with memories of the last time she lay in bed. It had been so comforting to sleep wrapped in Bridges’ arms. To enjoy his warmth and the deep, steady beat of his heart. She hadn’t lied when she said she loved him and her heart ached that he would not be hers. She may wish to spend her nights as they had the one before, but she could never be the wife he demanded.

  A lone tear escaped the corner of her eye and trailed to her temple.

  Chapter 25

  Jonathan nursed an ale in the common room. After he had replaced his pistol, he returned to the coaching inn and slept. It hadn’t lasted long because dreams of Geneviève kept invading. Why did she have to be so stubborn as well as beautiful and desirable? Blast, she was going to drive him to madness. After they retrieved the stolen goods from the smugglers he would return to London. There, his life would continue on at the warehouse as it had before, and Geneviève would return to her family. They might not even see one another again.

  Just the thought sent a surge of panic. How had he gotten attached to her in such a short time? How long would it take until he could put her from his mind?

  He already knew the answer. He would never forget her and probably spend his life wanting Geneviève.

  Jonathan picked up the tankard and drained the ale. Bloody hell. He had to convince her to marry him. Perhaps if he got her with child quickly she would put the silly thought about being his partner away. What type of woman even thought like that?

  Trent took a seat beside him and ordered an ale. It also answered his question. Trent’s wife thought like that. He had brought her along to the warehouse and they worked side by side from what he could tell. But that was different, wasn’t it? Could he relax if Geneviève spent her days at the warehouse, in his office?

  No. First of all, she would be too much of a distraction and he would get nothing done. Plus, it was dangerous, as well as dirty. The waterfront was no place for a lady.

  Yet, she would not relent until he agreed to a partnership. Which returned his mind to the only possible solution – to get her with child.

  It would certainly be no hardship to go about the act of begetting an heir. He still ached with the need to finally be in her. Last night, at the side of the cottage, had been a very poor substitution of what he really desired.

  The barkeep filled his tanker and slid it before him. How much had she seen and did she understand what he was doing?

  “It is growing dark,” Trent observed. “I hope Valentine received my message and is on his way.”

  “Perhaps we should go on ahead and keep an eye on the place,” Jonathan suggested. “They know that I, or at least someone, tried to follow them last evening. What if they move everything before we arrive?”

  Trent nodded. “It has been a concern of mine as well.” He took a deep drink of his ale. “Only Elizabeth and I know where it is.”

  “You and I could go ahead and Elizabeth can show Valentine when he arrives.”

  “I thought of that but I am afraid Valentine won’t follow her lead.” He turned to Jonathan. “He doesn’t know her as anything but my wife.”

  “How is that even possible? He did ask for your help.”

  “No,” Trent chuckled. “He asked for help through the Home Office. Valentine had no idea he would be working with me until I called upon him.” He took another drink and swallowed. “Nobody ever knows of Elizabeth’s involvement unless it cannot be helped.”

  Jonathan nodded. “He’s not likely to go with her.”

  “Which is why I am going to go ahead and you remain here with my wife.”

  He nodded. The plan did make sense. “And, I, with Elizabeth, will lead Valentine to the smugglers.” It was a good sound plan. “When we are finished, we will return, collect Miss Mirabelle, and return to London.”

  Trent eyed him out of the corner of his eye and his lip quirked. “Somehow I don’t think it is going to be that easy.”

  Of course, it would, unless Trent anticipated danger. “Perhaps you should give me the direction and Mrs. Trent can remain here safe with Miss Mirabelle.”

  Trent fully laughed this time. “If you think either lady is going to remain behind, you are a bigger fool than I ever imagined.”

  He straightened, a bit affronted. He was no fool but going after smugglers, who were probably very dangerous, was no place for a lady. Surely they would realize that.

  Jonathan took a deep swallow and then groaned. He was a fool. Of course, Geneviève would insist on accompanying them. She came to the waterfront, dressed like a male, and jumped into his boat. Somehow he had to convince her to remain behind. It would kill him if something happened to her.

  Trent finished his ale and stood. “I’ve had another tray delivered to the ladies. We should eat while we have a chance.”

  “How are they?”

  Trent shrugged. “They rested as we did and are anxious to be going.”

  As was he. They took a seat at a table in the common room. Jonathan declined another ale. He had already drunk two and needed his wits about him when Valentine arrived and they set out for the smugglers.

  “Geneviève was readying her new pistol when I left them.”

  Jonathan groaned again.

  “I am going with you,” Geneviève insisted. She and Bridges had faced off in the chamber assigned to her and Elizabeth. The man had the audacity to come in here and advise her that she would remain behind while the three of them went ahead.

  Bridges stepped forward and gently grabbed her upper arms. “I would have you safe. We don’t know what kind of men these are.”

  She pulled back. “Of course we do. They are smugglers.”

  “Which means they are dangerous,” he bit out.

  “I have a gun,” she reminded him.

  “Which puts us all in danger because we will be worrying about you,” he practically yelled.

  “You do not need to worry about me.” She jerked away from him and marched to the other side of the room and turned to Elizabeth. “Are you worried about me?”

  She bit her lip and turned to her husband.

  Geneviève strode over to her brother. “Are you going to make me remain behind?”

  He stared into her eyes. “If I insist, will you do so?”

  She glared at him.

  John sighed. “Then you shall go with me.”

  “Here, now, Trent…” Bridges began but John held up a hand.

  “It is safer if we know exactly where she is.” He turned to Bridges. “If there is shooting, which I do anticipate, I would rather know exactly where my sister is than wondering if she is wandering about on her own and possibly getting caught in the cross-fire.”

  As if she would do anything to put her or them in danger, but she held her tongue. At least John was not insisting that she remain behind.

  “As soon as Valentine arrives, follow us. Hopefully, the smugglers are still there and have not moved the goods.”

  With a satisfied grin, Geneviève pulled on her coat and put the gun into an outer pocket for easy access.

  “It’s not far,” John said as he opened the door. “We will go on foot.”

  The two of them left quietly by the back stairs and slipped into the darkness. John did not lead her to the road but stayed in the shadows.

  “It’s time that you and I had a talk, little sister.”

  She bristled at his firm tone but held her tongue. He was including her so she would hear him out.

  “What is between you and Bridges?”

  “Nothing.”

  He snorted. “I am no fool.”

  “I never claimed you were.”

  “Why did you turn down his offer of marriage?” he asked quietly into the darkness as they walked adjacent to the road but within the shadows of the trees.

  Geneviève sighed and let her head drop. “He wants the type of wife as everyone else. I cannot be that.”

  “Everyone else?”

  “Gentlemen who prefer their wives think of nothing beyond menu planning, shopping, and gossip.”

  “And you, what do you want?”

  At least he wasn’t condescending to her but seemed genuine in his questions. “I need more. I need to have a purpose.”

  “Seeing to a home isn’t a purpose?”

  She stopped and looked at him. “No. I did that for my mother and my sisters. I was in charge of the accounts and the servants at the age of fourteen because my mother couldn’t be bothered. I need to do more than that.”

  “Did you tell Bridges as much?”

  “Yes, for all it mattered.” She turned and began walking again. “I thought when he asked me to marry him that it would include my helping with his business as well. He will not have it. Instead, he would have me wait for him to return each night, filling my days with nothing.”

  John was silent beside her for the longest of time. Was he in agreement with Bridges? His wife worked by his side, surely he would understand.

  “Do you love him?” Again, this question was asked quietly.

  Tears welled in her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. “Yes,” she answered in a whisper.

  “You would rather have a purpose and be without him than have him and relegated to the role he has chosen.”

  It was a tough decision because she did want to be with Jonathan. She wanted to spend her nights with him, to sleep in his arms again, to discover everything there was to know about him. But, if he kept his days separate from her, was he really sharing everything? They would live separate lives except at night. It would begin to eat at her over time and she feared bitterness would emerge. Geneviève would rather they parted now than have her heart shattered, bruised, and possibly destroyed in a few years. “I just wish it didn’t have to be one or the other.”