“Oh, no, but I would advise you not to undo his bindings until you’re a good way out from port. He may be rather reluctant at first, but I’m sure he’ll come around if you put him to work. He really ought to be made to pay for his passage, don’t you think?”

The captain chuckled and gestured to the ship’s longboat, which carried a noisy assortment of livestock for the crossing—pens for sheep and pigs in the bottom, ducks and geese on a deck laid across the gunwales, and on top of all, crates of hens and chickens. “Very good, ma’am. He can make himself useful tending to the animals.”

Georgie chuckled. “Perfect, Captain Moore. How long do you think it will take you to reach Boston harbor?”

“As long as the weather holds, we should make excellent time. Nineteen to twenty days, I should think, now we have our new chronometer to chart the course. You can tell Mr. Harrison it works beautifully, ma’am.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so glad you think so.”

She went to the rail and indicated for Benedict to escort her cousin aboard. Josiah glared at her over his gag and clearly tried to remonstrate, or perhaps beg forgiveness, but she was in no mood to listen.

“Josiah, stop.” She fixed him with a baleful glare. “I have had quite enough of your foolish spite and jealousy. The only reason I am not having Mr. Wylde take you straight to Bow Street and charging you with unlawful kidnapping and the attempted murder of a peer”—she paused, to let the severity of that sink in—“is because it would reflect badly on the rest of the family.”

Josiah’s eyes widened as he realized she was serious.

“I have no desire to see you incarcerated in Newgate and hanged from Tyburn tree, but if I see your face on these shores again, I will not hesitate to press charges. Nod if you understand me.”

Josiah’s head bobbed up and down.

“Good. I am hoping that once you have been forced to make your own way in the world, you will appreciate the value of hard work and find a measure of the happiness that has eluded you here.”

She nodded to Juliet, who passed her the reticule Benedict had filled. “Because I am not entirely heartless, I will not send you away with nothing but the clothes on your back.” She opened the drawstring and pulled out the diamond and emerald necklace. “This I will keep”—she glanced at Wylde—“because it has fond memories attached to it, but I give you the rest as a gesture of goodwill. There’s also fifty pounds in there.” She shot Benedict an accusing glance.