She let out a relieved sigh as the prisoner’s pen moved confidently over the paper. Ben Wylde’s signature was surprisingly neat. Perhaps he’d been a secretary, or written dispatches in the army? She shook her head. It wasn’t her job to wonder about him. He was a means to an end, that was all.

He straightened, and his brown eyes were filled with a twinkle of devilry. “There, now. Just one further question, before we get to the vows, Miss Caversteed. Just what do you intend for a wedding night?”

Chapter 4.

Heat flashed across Georgie’s skin, both at the impertinent question and the way the rogue’s cheeky gaze moved over her. Laugh lines crinkled the corners of his brown eyes. She was used to such speculative ogling from her years in the ton, but not once had her body reacted as it did to this blackguard’s leisurely perusal. Her breath quickened.

Pieter growled again and took a step forward, but the man grinned and held up both hands in an expression of innocence.

“Can’t blame a chap for trying.” He chuckled. “Jus’ tryin’ to scratch an itch.”

“There will be no wedding night,” Georgie said firmly. “I want your name, Mr. Wylde, not your—”

“Cock?” he suggested cheerfully.

“—company,” she finished, proud of her cool tone.

His teeth flashed white as he smiled. “Why not? You’ll never see me again. No one will know. Exceptin’ these fine gentlemen, of course, and I’m sure they’d give us a few moments of privacy—”

“I am not having … marital relations … in a dirty prison with a stranger I just met!” she ground out.

His eyes twinkled. “Aww. Have pity. Give a poor wretch one last, ’appy memory of England. I might not even make it to Australia. I could be wrecked, or taken by sickness—”

Georgie narrowed her eyes. “I know precisely how perilous the oceans are, Mr. Wylde. My father died at sea.”

The teasing laughter disappeared from his eyes. “Forgive me. I am sorry for your loss.”

She waved away his sympathy. “In any case, my answer is still no.”

“Will the marriage be legal if it ain’t consummated?”

Georgie bit back a curse. She had no idea if consummation was actually required, but this man wasn’t going to be around to cast doubts on the validity of their union. And she certainly wasn’t going to mention it to anyone. “I’ll take the chance, Mr. Wylde,” she said briskly. “Now shall we begin?”

He bent at the waist in a parody of a gentleman’s bow, which somehow managed to look entirely natural. “Why not, Miss Caversteed?” There was an ironic edge to his voice. “I have nothing else planned for this evening, save counting the lice in my cell.”