Winch looked out over the water, her mouth tight. No doubt the mercenary knew very well that Southampton didn’t intend to be fair in his dealings with Georgiana and Thom. Now she was likely wondering whether he’d show her mercenaries the same type of fairness.
“Indeed,” she finally said, and took another draw from her cigarillo.
Satisfied for now, Georgiana glanced up at the airship. The polished hull gleamed in the early morning light. Not the swiftest vessel in the skies, but quick enough to chase them down in a boat.
Her gaze lifted to the balloon. As the morning passed, climbing up the cables anchoring the hydrogen-filled envelope to the wooden cruiser, and hiding atop its rounded bulk seemed less not so clever, and more no other choice. But as long as they were being foolish, she and Thom wouldn’t wait until they died of exposure. They would haul one of the lifeboats up with them, start a leak in the balloon—and when the airship settled into the sea, they could row away laughing.
Georgiana’s breath stopped. She turned to stare into the water again, her ears filled with the squawking of seagulls and the gasping thrust of the pump, and her mind filled with thoughts of leaking balloons.
It was a terrible idea. Incredibly stupid and dangerous. And it would also take away every advantage Southampton had over them. Right now, she and Thom were outgunned. But no one would dare fire a pistol on an airship with a leaking balloon. And they couldn’t have escaped in the lifeboat now, because the flyer would simply catch up to them—but not if her balloon had been compromised.
Oh, but they would be taking such a risk. A single spark could destroy them all.
Yet some chance of escape was still much better than having no chance.
She spent the next hour weighing the risks over and over, trying to minimize every one. By the time she spotted the bubbles breaking against the surface, Georgiana knew that it would be their escape plan. Not at all clever, but it was the best they had.
As long as they could delay Southampton for a little longer. It did not even have to be until that night—just until Thom recovered from his dive.
This time, Thom didn’t haul himself up the tether with the air hose coiled at his side, but gripped the edge of the platform and dragged himself out of the water, a bulging canvas sack in his left hand. He dropped it onto the boards with a heavy thunk—and the unmistakable clink of coins.
With his help, Georgiana worked his diving helmet off. His eyes were bloodshot again, his face pale and sweating.
The dome had not even cleared his head when he asked, “Are you all right, Georgie?”
She laughed. “That is my question to you. I’m fine, Thom. Are you?”
Beside them, Mrs. Winch crouched in front of the canvas sack. “You brought up what you were supposed to?”
“A bloody fortune,” Thom said. “Five thousand gold pieces and no weapons. Open it and look.”
Winch did, her eyes widening. “There’s five thousand here? Southampton said it was only half that.”
“He must have been mistaken,” Georgiana said.
“He must have.” Winch stood and clanked on the platform chain, signaling to the airship. The boards jolted under Georgiana’s feet. Her heart began to pound. The gold had been retrieved. Their task for Southampton done.
“Thom still needs to haul up his air hose, Mrs. Winch!” she called over the rattling chains. “Or he won’t be able to return for the submersible.”
Winch glanced at her. “That’ll be up to his lordship, Mrs. Thomas.”
And the bastard would either be greedy enough to stay another day, or Thom would bring it all down. Georgiana clutched his hand through the wet canvas glove and tried to resist when he subtly moved her behind him, until he said quietly, “I’m covered in brass armor, Georgie. Let me protect you a bit.”
That was sensible—and terrifying. She was almost dizzy with fear by the time the platform clanked against the side of the hull.
Wearing a cold little smile, Southampton stood waiting for them at the gangway, with the band of mercenaries behind him. “You didn’t release the tether from the wreck, Big Thom. I hope this doesn’t mean you returned empty-handed.”
“It only means that my submersible is still down there. I’ll go back for it tomorrow.”
Southampton’s gaze lit on the bulging canvas bag. “But you retrieved my gold?”
“I did. All five thousand.”
Southampton looked to Mrs. Winch, whose mouth flattened as she nodded her confirmation.
Thom continued, “You don’t have to worry that I’ll make a claim on those coins or mention to anyone that I ever laid eyes on them. But that boat down there is all I have to support us . . . and I can sell the submersible on it for thirty livre, enough to buy another ship. That’ll get my wife and me back on our feet when you return us home.”
Oh, Thom. Georgiana squeezed his hand. So very clever. At their dinner, Southampton had spoken of his noble family’s honor and duty, and now Thom appealed to him like a vassal appealing to his lord. If Thom had been appealing in fact, this would have been impossible for him—but her husband probably liked using Southampton’s supposed honor against him.