Miss Wylde and the Wynd

A wayward spinster. A gentleman determined to set things right. An attraction too tempting to ignore.

Lord Damian Wynd had control of his world and his life. As the second born, it was his responsibility to manage the family import business, Trade Wynd. His days were spent on the docks overseeing the unloading of ships or in his offices not far away, which left Damian with little else in his life. An emptiness gnawed at him, but he had no time to determine the cause, let alone fill it. Nor was it as important as keeping order of all he supervised. However, his carefully balanced world is soon overturned when he spies a young woman sneaking away from one of their newly arrived ships.

Miss Georgiana Wylde had always had an adventurous soul, though limited in what she could pursue, grounded, intelligent, and knew what was expected of her. However, when her sister disappears in pursuit of an English rogue, Georgie must go after her before all is ruined, although she fears that it may be too late.

Damian’s first intention is to send Georgie back from whence she came, but her determination and fear for her sister pulls at something deep in his chest that might very well be his heart.

Georgiana had not expected that the most difficult and pragmatic gentleman in all of England would come to her aid. Further, she does not even like him, nor does he care for her. Yet, as their search takes them from the docks in Southampton throughout England and beyond, she finds herself coming to care, even love, the one gentleman who should be completely wrong for her.

Chapter 1

Southampton, England, August 1817

With spyglass in hand, Mr. Damian Wynd faced the unrelenting wind coming off the Channel and pushed the hair from his eyes to watch the Annabelle grow larger in the distance. Her sails billowed, and she rode low in the water due to a full hull. The Annabelle would not be the only ship to return from Quebec City filled with the ever-increasing demand for timber, but four more ships would arrive within days. The Annabelle was simply the first to return to their docks located in Southampton, which was preferrable to London where congestion and competition made being one of England’s top import and export businesses more difficult than it needed to be.

At any one time, Trade Wynd had ships sailing to and from America, Canada, the Caribbean, Cape Colony, Madeira, Greece, Gibraltar and any country on the Continent with a port.

“Where is that one from?”

Damian glanced down at the six-year-old child, Livia, who had become his shadow of late.

“Where did you come from?”

“The earl told me to keep an eye on you.”

The earl was Sterling Wynd, the Earl of Wyndham, who happened to be Damian’s older brother and Livia’s stepfather. She referred to Sterling as the earl or simply earl, when addressing him directly. Never Wyndham.

His brother had returned home only a month earlier after being gone for over a year. Sterling had left a bachelor and visited various locations on the Continent to renew trade relations, especially those that had suffered during the war with Napoleon, and to once again increase imports. His next to the last destination had been Wyndview Farm, a vineyard they owned in the Cape Colony on the southern tip of Africa, where he had met his now wife and her daughter, Livia.

Sterling had been successful in restoring those trade relations and once again Trade Wynd ships were only docked long enough to load and unload cargo or make repairs before they set sail again.

“What bounty do we have today?”

“Bounty? We are not pirates,” Damian reminded her as the crew, dock and warehouse workers were carefully, but quickly, setting the ropes, pulleys, tackles and crane to unload the cargo from the Charlotte Rose that had arrived just that morning.

Olivia shrugged. “It would be more fun if you were.”

“Dangerous and illegal you mean.”

The child blew out a heavy sigh. “What did the Charlotte Rose bring in?”

“Marble from Carrara, Italy.”

Her brown eyes lit with excitement. “Is it for Jules?”

Jules was one of Damian’s younger brothers who had started sculpting as a child when their father had given him a broken piece of marble. He had not stopped since, except for when he had gone off to war.

“If any is broken and cannot be sold, it will go to him.” Though, Jules had spent nearly two years working on a statue that nobody had been allowed to see. That marble had been purchased by him and ordered directly from Carrara—the largest block of marble to have ever traveled on a Trade Wynd ship.

“If it is not broken, where will it go?”

“Stonemasons, sculptors.” Damian shrugged.

“And makes you rich.”

“You are turning rather mercenary.”

Livia frowned. Her delicate dark eyebrows drew together over her eyes.

“Greedy,” he clarified because he assumed she did not know the meaning of mercenary. “First bounty and now becoming rich. Do you hope to be a pirate one day?”

“Maybe,” she answered. “Or maybe you will let me captain one of your ships.”

“Women do not captain ships.”

“Anne Bonny did.”

“She was a pirate. Trade Wynd is an established and respected export and import business,” Damon reminded her.

“So, no woman can be on one of your ships?”

“Not unless they are passengers such as you and your mother were.”

“Then why do you have a woman sailor?”

“We do not have any women sailors. Only men,” he insisted.

“Then where did she come from?” Olivia pointed to a sailor walking away from the Charlotte Rose, hat pulled down low on his head.

Damon was more concerned with why the sailor was leaving before all the cargo was unloaded than if the person was a woman, because he knew such was an impossibility.

“What makes you think that is a woman?” he asked to humor her.  

“You can tell from the bum.”

Damian nearly dropped his spyglass. “What did you say?”

“The earl said that a woman cannot hide in a man’s clothes. All you have to do is look at the bottom.”

“He told you this?” Damian practically sputtered.

“He told momma. I just overheard him.”

He would need to tell Sterling to make certain that Livia was not about when he was having private conversations with his wife. “He liked my momma in trousers. He sketched it and I found it hanging in his dressing room.

Damian gaped at the child. “What were you doing in the earl’s dressing room?”

“I was looking for Momma.”

It was a reasonable explanation, he supposed.

“Momma found me there and then scolded the earl for putting the drawing where anyone could see, but he said that the only people who knew it was there were him and his valet, to which Momma said that it was one person too many and insisted that he take it down. The earl then told Momma that it was a reminder of the perfect day that they had climbed Table Mountain and she said that if he liked her in trousers so much that she would start wearing them. The earl liked that idea very much, but Momma just stomped off and said the earl was infuriating.”

Damian could only stare at Livia as she regaled him with what had transpired, and he was fairly certain that she hadn’t even stopped long enough to take a breath.

“Do you want to know how you can tell?” she asked innocently.

“Tell what?” he asked.

“If it is a woman,” Livia answered, her voice bordering on exasperation that one would associate with someone much older. “So, do you?”

Damian could form a guess but since he had never seen a woman in trousers, britches or anything other than a skirt, or naked, he was not certain he would know, and he was not going to ask a child. However, he was nearly certain that the sailor Livia pointed to was no more than a lad of thirteen or so, slight and not quite fully matured. Likely a cabin boy or someone who was working his way up in rank to one day be an officer.

“A gently rounded bum,” she answered with confidence and a nod of her chin.

If Damian hadn’t been so shocked, he might have laughed.

Those were also words that Sterling would use and not a six-year-old girl.

“Just like that sailor.”

It was impossible that there had been a woman on one of his ships, but Damian lifted the spyglass to get a closer look so that he could point out to Livia where she was wrong.

“You cannot even see a bottom, not that I should be looking anyway.”

“Because she fixed her coat. I could see it when she bent over to pick up her valise and when she straightened, she tugged at the back of her coat to cover her bum.”

Damian focused on the sailor walking away, certain that it was a lad, who he needed to identify and possibly sack for leaving before the cargo was unloaded.

Except, the sailor had a different gate and balance than a man or boy who had served years on a ship. The feet were smaller, limbs more delicate and their hips swayed much like a female as she tried to sneak away without being noticed. While he could not tell what the bum looked like because the coat was too long, there was no doubt that the person walking away was female.

“Bloody hell.”

“You are not supposed to swear in front of me.”

Damian rolled his eyes. The child was just explaining bums to him and he could not say bloody hell in front of her.

He handed the spyglass to Livia. “Take this to the earl. I have a stowaway to catch.”

“How do you know that he is even here.”

“Because you would not be up here if Sterling was not in the offices.”

She gave a shrug, smiled then skipped away holding his spyglass. Damian followed and took the stairs to the docks then followed the stowaway, closing the distance as he hoped to catch her before she disappeared.

***

She’d always dreamed of traveling and venturing beyond her village to experience more of life before she took over her grandfather’s bakery, but Miss Georgiana Wylde never anticipated that the first time she sailed away from Italy that it would in the cargo hold of a ship.

With the straps of the canvas satchel over her shoulder so that the weight rested in front of her body, Georgiana adjusted her coat so that it was no longer bunched and covered her body as much as it could, pulled the knitted cap down and made certain that none of her hair escaped then walked away from the ship, old worn valise in hand. Her instincts were to run, to get away before she was caught. She also resisted that urge because doing so would most certainly draw unwanted attention and see her being discovered. Instead, she kept her pace determined, with each step taking her further away. Once free of the port, ships and dock, she would locate an inn where she would plan what to do next now that she was in England. 

She would also need food. When she had left home, her satchel had been loaded with various breads, dried meats and canteens filled with water. Now, it only contained empty canteens and her carefully concealed and necessary funds.

It would also feel good to sleep in a bed again and bathe. She’d spent the past three weeks in the bowels of the ship surrounded by crates and marble slabs. More than a few times she feared being crushed by the cargo shifting when the ship rose and fell over taller waves. Thankfully that never happened as the slabs had been stored in such a manner that they did not move.

If she had not been so frightened of being caught, Georgiana likely would have admired the transportation of the coveted Carrera marble, and enjoyed the thrill of her first real adventure, but her greatest concern had been reaching England without discovery—a task she had accomplished.

“You, sailor.” A man yelled from behind.

Georgiana did not even pause but kept walking. The man could have been calling to any sailor given the docks were full of them.

“Why are you leaving the ship?” The voice was nearer and her stomach tightened as she suspected the voice was calling to her. Still, she did not alter her pace and pretended she had not heard anything.

“Why are you leaving the ship before all cleaning and repairs are made, not to mention helping in the unloading of the cargo?”

Now she knew the man was calling after her and his voice was even closer yet.

Georgiana wanted to run but had no real direction since she’d never been here before. Instead, she kept her head down and looked for areas in which she could disappear and then run before the man caught up to her.

“I said wait.” A heavy hand settled on her shoulder, though gently and just enough for her to know that she’d been caught.

Her heart sank. She had been nearly free.

“Did you not hear me?”

Oh, she had heard him very well. She had just chosen to ignore him, not that she would tell him that.

His hand lifted as he came around to stand before her. Georgiana did not look up. Instead, she stared straight ahead and directly at his chest. It was broad, firm and tan from being in the sun. He was not wearing a suitcoat, and his waistcoat was open over a light linen shirt, minus a cravat, revealing a portion of his firm, upper chest. Goodness, she was only used to seeing men properly attired. Not that she minded as she appreciated the smooth muscles…

Her face heated. She should not be admiring this man’s chest. She was simply shocked, that was all and panicked because she had been caught.

“Who gave you permission to leave the ship early?”

“Capt.…” Georgiana tried to recall the name of the captain. She knew that she had heard it but the name escaped her.

“Jenkins would not let a sailor go until the work was done.” The man insisted.

There had to be an excuse that he would believe but all words failed Georgiana. Further, she was afraid to speak because she feared her voice would give her away. So far this man in front of her believed her to be a male and he must continue to believe that.

“Are you going to answer me?”

Instead of saying anything Georgiana dropped her chin further.

“Deserters forfeit their pay, especially if they leave a job undone.”

As Georgiana had never expected wages, and was not really a sailor, that was not a hardship.

“And since you are sneaking away, I can only assume that you have a nefarious purpose for doing so.”

At his implied assumption Georgiana gasped before she could control her response.

“Perhaps I should search your belongings to see what you may have stolen from my ship.”

She placed a protective hand over the satchel as she tightened her grip on the valise, which held nothing more than her clothing.

She could not under any circumstances allow him to look inside either. Not because she had stolen anything but because half of her clothing was for a female and he would realize that she was not the lad she hoped to portray.

“Come along. I am returning you to the ship.”

Georgiana shifted her eyes to the left, to the right, and beyond him. There was no way she could allow him to take her back. She needed to disappear.

“Do I need to haul you back there or will you come along with me?”

Ahead to the left was an alley and Georgiana could only pray that it did not end at a wall but would give her access to another street where she could disappear.

“Are you coming with me?”

She gave a quick nod. The man returned to her side, expecting her to follow. Instead, Georgiana darted past him, running as fast as possible, and ducked down the alley.

“Come back here,” the man yelled.

Georgiana did not look back but kept running, noting the opening ahead and the location of the sun with every intention of turning to the right where there would be more shadows. But just as she neared the opening to the street, her toe caught on a raised stone and she stumbled forward. Georgiana let go of her valise as she thrust out her hands in hopes of stopping her fall just as her knees slammed against the hard cobblestone. Her palms scraped against the ground as her hat flew off her head. Georgiana scrambled forward to grab it and stuff her braids underneath then reached for her valise. As she came to her feet ready to run again, Georgiana was forced to halt because the man had already caught up to her, his feet planted, blocking her escape.

She slowly looked up. His arms were crossed over his chest as he scowled down at her. His straight nose was perfectly aligned with his other features of strong cheekbones and lips pressed firmly together in disapproval.

“Do you care to explain how a female came to be aboard one of my ships?”

“I would rather not, if you do not mind.”

His cold blue eyes narrowed. “Oh, I mind very much.” He held out a hand to assist Georgiana to her feet. “You either return with me to Trade Wynd or I call for the constable and he can take you before a magistrate to decide your fate. Which do you prefer?”

Georgiana swallowed against the tightness of her throat. A constable would see her in a jail cell, and she honestly did not know the punishment for being a stowaway. At the very least, she would likely be shipped home, which could not happen.

She stared up and into his blue eyes, shadowed by strands of auburn hair, and prayed that he was understanding and would let her go.

“I will answer you here,” she said decidedly.

“Trade Wynd or constable,” he repeated, auburn eyebrow arched.

Once again Georgiana swallowed against the tightening of her throat.

“Trade Wynd,” she finally answered.

He motioned for her to turn around so they could go back the way they had come. She trudged ahead of him slowly, her knees sore from hitting the pavement. But she did her best to ignore the discomfort and planned for another potential escape.

“Do not even think about going in any other direction or I will chase you down and carry you back to the office and keep you there until I have my answers,” he warned as they reached the street at the end of the alley.

Georgiana hesitated and looked to her left where more streets branched off to various areas of Southampton. To her right were the docks. She could attempt to run away again but concluded that she would be even less successful this time especially since the man already anticipated her flight. With a sigh of resignation, she turned toward the docks.

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