She waited for more, but he did not elaborate. Clearly Mr. Wylde was a man of few words. His story was probably like that of thousands of other soldiers who had returned from the wars and found themselves unable to find honest work. She’d seen them in the streets, ragged and begging. It was England’s disgrace that men who’d fought so heroically for their country had been reduced to pursuing a life of crime to survive.

Was the fact that he was not a condemned man truly a problem? Her original plan had been to tell Josiah she’d married a sailor who had put to sea. She would have been a widow, of course, but Josiah would never have known that. Her “absent” husband could have sailed the world indefinitely.

If she married this Wylde fellow, she would not immediately become a widow, but the intended result would be the same. Josiah would not be able to force her into marriage and risk committing bigamy.

Georgie narrowed her eyes at the prisoner. They would be bound together until one or the other of them died, and he looked disconcertingly healthy. Providing he didn’t take up heavy drinking or catch a nasty tropical disease, he’d probably outlive her. That could cause problems.

Of course, if he continued his ill-advised occupation, then he’d probably succumb to a knife or a bullet sooner rather than later. Men like him always came to a sticky end; he’d only narrowly escaped the gallows this time. She’d probably be a widow in truth soon enough. But how would she hear of his passing if he were halfway across the world? How would she know when she was free?

She tore her eyes away from the rogue’s surprisingly tempting lips and fixed Knollys with a hard stare. “Is there really no one else? I mean, he’s so … so…”

Words failed her. Intimidating? Manly?

Unmanageable.

“No, ma’am. But he won’t bother you after tonight.”

What alternative did she have? She couldn’t wait another few weeks. Her near-miss with Josiah had been the last straw. She’d been lucky to escape with an awful, sloppy kiss and not complete ruination. She sighed. “He’ll have to do. Pieter, will you explain the terms of the agreement?”

Pieter nodded. “You’ll marry Miss Caversteed tonight, Mr. Wylde. In exchange, you’ll receive five hundred pounds to do with as you will.”

Georgie waited for the prisoner to look suitably impressed. He did not. One dark eyebrow rose slightly, and the corner of his mobile lips curled in a most irritating way.

“Fat lot of good it’ll do me in here,” he drawled. “Ain’t got time to pop to a bank between now and when they chain me to that floating death trap in the morning.”

He had a fair point. “Is there someone else to whom we could send the money?”