Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lord Geoffrey left his house headed for White’s Club, the notes in his breast pocket. He saw his friends who were secret members of the Saints, through the window, sitting at one of the larger tables. He entered. The wager book lay in front of them.

“Come bet with us?” one friend asked.

“No, I cannot.” He scanned the room, his eyebrows arched in warning. “I have critical news, and I have urgent need of your skills. My life depends on your help. Since you are my true friends, I warn you there is imminent danger. It cannot be overheard. Come with me to my home.”

The seven men left with him, and scurried down the street to his town house.

Neville held the door open as the gentlemen filed inside. He pointed to Lord Geoffrey’s study. Their hats, gloves and canes were placed on the side table.

“My lords, I will bring cognac in a moment.” Neville nodded to the footman as the doors were closed. “Fetch me three decanters and sufficient glasses.”

The footman rushed to the liquor cabinet.

In his paneled study, Lord Geoffrey spoke in a fervent tone. “First, I will tell you I have fallen in love with a beautiful lady and I intend to offer her a marriage proposal.”

All his friends laughed and sought to congratulate him.

Geoffrey outlined Serena’s circumstances. “I say in all truth, it is an impossible rescue, but perhaps not for the Saints.”

Neville entered the room and filled the Waterford glasses with the amber liquor.

“In seven days’ time, my lady is to be forced into marriage with Lord Leland LeBran, a man she does not love. She has told her maid that, if so, she will throw herself into the sea before completing the nuptials.”

“Good God, Geoffrey, this information has been verified? Do you have proof?” Lord Carleton asked in disbelief.

Geoffrey offered a sly smile. “I would ask each of you to help me as you know I would do for you.” He methodically related the entire incidents from when Emma and her intended groom returned the pup, Serena’s letters, sketchbook and portrait. Geoffrey searched their faces. Each of the men remained serious, lips taciturn, determined.

Lord Carleton spoke first, “Count on me.”

Geoffrey cleared his throat and continued, “Our skills in weaponry are well-known. I propose we storm the keep and rescue her. I have dispatched letters to the magistrate to secure a waiver for marriage. The documents should arrive by hand tomorrow. There is an abbey near Brighton where if I survive, we will marry.”

He shot questions at them as he paced, his hands behind his back. “Do we know anyone who comes from the Portsmouth area who has knowledge about the fortress? Can we get architects’ drawings? Do we approach by sea or by land? If by sea, do we commandeer a schooner?” Geoffrey explored their eyes.

The room grew quiet. Lord Cedric, pushed the toe of his boot against the hearth. “Well, Geoffrey, you do not do things in a small way, do you?” He took a hefty drink of the liquor. “I have a cousin who taught at the Naval Academy there. He lives nearby and I can find out what he knows. I’m in.”

All were young men in their thirties, unattached, so to speak, except for a mistress or two, and each friend pledged to help. Their loyalty touched Geoffrey.

“I have asked Neville to clear out the dining area and we will use the larger room as a base for operations. The thought occurs to me, Cedric, if your cousin could lay his hands on a structural fortress model, it would save us much time. They are designed to break apart and the schematic shows each and every room and lower bastions.”

Lord Alvin spoke. “We may need more men if we are to approach by sea. Do you have a map of southern England? I am pleased to investigate a landing by sea with you.”

“I can look into the land route.” Sir Watson scanned the room. “We will also require a topographical map in addition to the one you have here. My mapmaker should have one.”

Geoffrey placed the single available map he had on a side table and at first glance, it showed one route could be Portsmouth to Portsea Island.

“I will secure the weaponry,” Lord Kevin, a military major stated. “We’ll need maces and axes as well as crossbows, in addition to our personal guns and swords. Gunpowder could present a problem, because of the strict laws that protect illicit use, but I can deal with it.”

Lord Carleton patted Geoffrey on the back. “I am happy to hear that Serena has always been true to you. I found it difficult to believe the woman could change so, after how you spoke about her. You were a worry to me with your grief. People usually do not regret what they do, they regret what they did not do. You would never forgive yourself if you did not do everything in your power to secure her safety.”

“Aptly put, Carleton.” Geoffrey exhaled, held his friend’s gaze and a sly grin crossed his face.

Three other member Saints offered to assist, which meant Geoffrey had a total of eight men for the dangerous assault of the fortress. Excitement punctuated the air as they planned for the difficult mission. If anyone could succeed, the Saints would, Geoffrey was sure.

After more planning, everyone agreed to meet in three hours.

Geoffrey wanted Serena with his heart, soul, and aching body. If he had to die, he would. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her in the past seventeen days. What a pity if his death denied two people, meant for each other, from being together. Would the details of the planned rescue be worth a wager in White’s Club books?

Time would tell their story.