Georgie turned away, flustered, and gestured to Pieter. “Let’s go.” Suddenly, all she wanted was to be home. She needed to think, and her wits seemed to have gone begging in the presence of this exasperating man.

Pieter collected the marriage license from Cotton and tossed a jingling purse to Knollys, who grinned and touched his forelock.

“Nice doin’ business, milady,” he sneered. He crossed to the prisoner and began to refasten the manacles around his wrists. Wylde submitted to the imprisonment without comment, and Georgie bit her lip to quell an instinctive protest. There was nothing more she could do for him now.

She took one last glance at the prisoner. What did one say to a handsome stranger you’d just married and would never see again? It was not a situation often covered in etiquette books. She couldn’t very well wish him a good life.

“I wish you a safe journey,” she said at last. And then, on a whim, added the words she’d always said when taking leave of her father, “Fair winds and a calm sea.”

Those dark eyes met hers and held her captive for a long moment. “Thank you, my lady. If fortune is kind, perhaps we’ll meet again—under more auspicious circumstances.”

It was all she could do to nod.

Once the outer door of the prison clanged behind her, Georgie took a deep, cleansing breath. Her hands shook as she raised the hood of her domino, but a mad sense of relief washed over her. She’d done it! For six long years, she’d endured awkward matchmaking and unconvincing proposals, the never-ending sting of gossip and speculation. Josiah’s thinly veiled threats and disapproval. She’d bowed to convention, done what others expected of her, from the moment she’d entered the ton. Now, for the first time in her adult life, she was free to start doing exactly as she pleased.

Ben Wylde, criminal rogue, had given her freedom.

Chapter 5.

A disturbance in the hallway and the angry scuffle of feet was the first indication of Cousin Josiah’s arrival. His voice, low but threatening, carried through the half-open salon door.

“No, curse you, I’ll announce myself!”

Georgie sat a little straighter in her chair and braced herself for what was bound to be an unpleasant interview. Anything concerning Josiah was unpleasant.

He flung himself through the door, brandishing the brief note she’d sent him like an Old Testament prophet. “What is the meaning of this, Georgiana? It says here that you’ve married. What do you mean by writing such twaddle?”

Georgie set down her book—Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe—and glanced over at Pieter, who’d followed Josiah into the room and positioned himself in the corner, a silent but effective bodyguard. She looked up at her cousin’s irate face impassively, but inside, her heart was racing.