Georgie closed her mouth against the urge to do precisely that. He had a fair point. He was far more experienced in this sort of thing. And his desire to keep her safe from harm was rather sweet. Misguided, of course, but sweet.

As they rounded the end of the street, the wide bowl of the harbor came into view. Georgie grinned at the familiar sight of bobbing, jostling ships and tugged him toward the wharf. There was always something happening here. Cranes and winches were busy unloading crates of produce, while the air swirled with the smell of the refuse floating in the grey-brown water. She shuddered at the bobbing corpse of a bloated rat. She’d once seen a group of boys playing a disgusting game whereby they actually threw the inflated rats at one other, like some sort of revolting exploding missile. It was so unsanitary, she couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. No wonder people said the docks were no place for a lady.

And yet her father had always allowed her to come here with him to watch their ships come in. She’d found it endlessly fascinating, spinning tales in her imagination of all the exotic and wonderful places the goods had come from.

Wylde took her arm, his fingers gentle at her elbow, and they dodged a couple of sailors with tarred pigtails and an oyster seller with his wheelbarrow. Georgie pointed to a vessel farther down the wharf with a proud smile. “That’s one of mine.”

He shielded his eyes against the low, weak sun and read the painted nameplate on the bow. “The Lady Alice.”

“Named after my mother.” Her smile was bittersweet. “Father was always aware that he couldn’t provide her with a real title, despite his wealth. He knew the ton looked down on her for being ‘tarnished by trade.’ This was the only way he could make her a lady.”

“There’s a measure of security in a title,” he agreed easily. “Just as there is in wealth.”

She nodded, glad he understood. “That’s why Mother’s so keen for my sister to marry a peer. She wants Juliet to have all the advantages she never had.” She gave a half laugh, half sigh. “It drives me mad, but I can’t fault her for it.”

Wylde nodded at the vessel. “What kind of ship is she?”

“A brig. They’re popular among pirates because of their speed and maneuverability, but we use them as standard cargo ships. She’s just about to head off to Boston.”

They stood side by side and watched as men loaded crate after crate of oranges onto the deck.

“What are the oranges for?”